Every night, I tossed and turned, listening to the sounds of their pleasure filtering through the wall.
To quell his anger, I endured it all without a word.
I hid under my blanket and cried in secret until sleep finally took me.
Just a little longer, I told myself. As long as I get pregnant, everything will be fine.
I clung to that hope like a lifeline. It was all that kept me standing.
Somehow, word of Connor's cruelty reached his grandfather. Jacob didn't hesitate—he evicted Jade immediately and forced Connor to stand under the scorching sun for three hours, cast and all.
Naturally, Connor blamed me.
That night, he ordered me into the master bedroom. Not for reconciliation. He drugged me, arranged my limp body into degrading poses, and photographed every moment.
"Try anything behind my back again," he said, holding up the phone, "and these go viral."
I pleaded until my throat was raw. Only then did he agree to delete them.
The aftermath broke me. By the second night, I was burning with a fever of 104. The nanny tried to take me to the ER, but Connor refused. To protect his reputation, he locked me in the bridal suite and told the staff to let me "fend for myself."