The scandal enraged the Gilbert patriarch. He demanded Paul take responsibility and marry me. Paul knelt in the ancestral hall for three days and endured dozens of lashes, but the old man wouldn't budge.
We were to be married.
From that day on, Paul's eyes held nothing but pure hatred for me.
On our wedding night, he didn't make love to me. He punished me. He tormented my body until dawn, venting his rage.
Just before darkness claimed me, my phone lit up with a message from Anna.
[Sister, if you think you can just break off the engagement with Paul, you need my permission first.]
[I won't let you get what you want. Paul will hate you for the rest of his life—you'd better be prepared.]
My vision blurred as I read the messages. A chill settled deep in my bones, freezing the blood in my veins.
After Paul took over the company, he became a ghost in our home. On the rare occasions he returned, it was only to spew venom. He called me scheming and sinister, a woman who used dirty tricks to climb the social ladder.
He said looking at me made him sick.
Yet in the bedroom, he was ruthless. Paul never used protection. Whenever he discovered I was pregnant, he dragged me to the clinic to scrape it away.