The day my husband’s plane crashed into the sea, I broke down. I followed him into the waves, ready to die. It was only after they pulled me from the water that I remembered it was April Fool’s Day. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I heard the teasing voice of his mistress. “Oh, darling, your wife is just madly in love with you,” she purred. “Can you imagine how she’d freak out if she knew you were just messing with her?” He chuckled. “Freak out? Please. After giving birth, Nora’s become tamer than a rabbit. Just make sure none of you let this slip. This is the last time I need to test her love for me.” A wave of laughter followed, along with promises to keep the secret. Lying on the stretcher, I found I had no more tears to cry. What my husband, John, didn’t know was that this was also the last chance I was giving him. From that moment on, my love for him flatlined. 1 I woke up in a hospital room. A perfectly peeled apple sat on the bedside table. In the past, whenever I was sick, John never showed his face. He’d just send his assistant with a pile of expensive supplements. Seeing my blank expression, he picked up a slice of apple and held it to my lips. “So happy to see I’m not dead you’re speechless?” I turned my head, my eyes catching a faint love bite on his neck. My voice was calm, eerily so. “John, let’s get a divorce.” His hand froze. He popped the apple slice into his own mouth, crunching it loudly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Then he made a call right in front of me. Soon, his assistant brought our son, Leo. In the few months since I’d last seen him, he’d shot up in height. But he was still a stranger to me. I’d barely finished nursing Leo when John’s grandfather took him away. I was only allowed to see him during holiday dinners at the family estate. I knew why John had brought him. In the past, whenever he’d taken his fun a little too far, and I’d given him the silent treatment, he’d send our son to placate me. I’d lost count of how many times he’d used that trick. But that trump card was no longer my weakness. Seeing Leo, who had grown a little chubby, sparked no joy in me. He frowned, a perfect miniature of his father. Even the way he said my name carried John’s dismissive tone. “Nora, you’re still so boring. Dad, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and have Miss Lily play with me…” Miss Lily? No wonder he never called me “Mom.” He already had a replacement. John’s eyes narrowed. Leo immediately clammed up and tried to crawl into my arms. “Daddy’s being mean to me!” I would have always defended him before. But this time, I pushed him away. “Go cry to your Miss Lily.” Two identical faces, one large and one small, stared at me in shock. I pressed on. “John, I’m serious about the divorce. This isn’t a joke.” A flash of anger crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by a sneer. “Nora, if you play hard to get for too long, it’s not going to end well. Piss me off, and you’ll never see your son again.” So that was it. He thought this was another one of my tactics. I remembered last year, when news broke that he’d sent some starlet to the hospital with serious internal injuries. I’d demanded a divorce then, too. He’d locked me in a room for six months, refusing to let me see Leo. That’s when I finally learned my lesson. And that’s when I realized I couldn’t love him anymore. “John, after I’m discharged, I’m moving out.” I said it again, my voice firm, my gaze locked on his. Sensing I wasn’t playing games, his expression turned grave. “You want a divorce? You’ll have to earn it.” Only after he left with Leo did I pick up my phone and text a number I didn’t have saved. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll leave after the dance competition next week.” After leaving the hospital, I went back to the villa to pack a small bag before heading to the dance studio. Now that I had made my decision, I wanted no more entanglements with John. 2 When I walked into the studio, everyone stared at me with an unreadable expression. A colleague pulled me into a corner, her voice low with concern. “Nora, what did you do to tick off Mrs. Sterling? She not only stole your spot in the competition, but she also had the director fire you.” Mrs. Sterling? I followed her gaze to the center of the stage. There stood Lily, dripping in gold and diamonds, looking every bit the pampered mistress. I’d almost forgotten that she paraded around the studio calling herself “Mrs. Sterling.” Right now, she was basking in the admiring glances of the other dancers. Then she saw me in the shadows. “Oh, Nora,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “I’m so sorry. I guess my dancing is just a better fit for the competition. That’s why the director gave the only spot to me.” I didn’t care what games she played before, but this competition was important to me. I wasn’t about to let her have it. “Lily, what level is your dancing at, exactly? The level where you perform for men in private rooms? And while we’re at it, why don’t you tell everyone who you really are?” She had started as a small-time influencer, a livestreamer showing off her “talents.” She’d only gotten into this prestigious studio because of John. She used to be meek as a mouse around me. The fact that she dared to challenge me now was the last straw. Lily’s face flushed crimson. She was speechless, tears welling in her eyes. Just then, a hand snaked around her waist. John. He looked at me, his eyes radiating pressure. “And who are you to question her?” My lips moved, but the words were bitter in my throat. His mother had died because of me. Nine years of marriage, even giving him a son—it wasn’t enough to repay that debt. He’d once grabbed me by the throat, drunk and furious, and snarled, “Nora, you married into this family to atone for your sins, not to enjoy a life of luxury. Don’t you ever forget your place!” Seeing me lost in thought, John leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Nora, if you want to keep this job, you will move back home.” That’s when I understood. He was the “director” Lily had been talking about. He’d given my spot to her and then threatened the studio owner to fire me. He was trying to break me, to force me to take back my words about the divorce. When I didn’t react, a cold smile twisted his lips. “Feeling bold now, are we? Think you can fly away from my control? I’ll just have to break your wings. Then let’s see… how… you… fly.” He made a quick call. A moment later, a text came from my best friend. “Nora, I think I pissed someone off. I just got promoted last month, and my boss just called me in and said they’re letting me go…” My lips pressed into a thin line. I went to gather my things. As I was leaving, I heard Lily’s mocking voice behind me. “See, Nora? You’re just like me, dependent on a man. And here I thought you had some backbone.” My hand, clutching the handle of my suitcase, tightened. I shot back, “Have you forgotten? We’re not divorced yet. He’s still my husband.” Suddenly, John’s hand clamped down on my arm, his grip like iron. “Nora, who gave you the nerve to bully Lily right in front of me? And have you forgotten everything I’ve warned you about?” A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced my heart. In all our years of marriage, he had never publicly acknowledged me as his wife. People knew he was married, but they also knew he was never short of beautiful women on his arm. If I couldn’t compete, then there was no reason to wait another week. The thought brought a small measure of relief. Before returning to the villa, I stopped by a law firm and printed out a divorce agreement. I sent another text to that same number. “Don’t need to wait a week. I’m leaving in two days.” 3 Back at the villa, I sat on the sofa, lost in a daze. John came home unusually early. He stood in the entryway, his eyes meeting mine. It was like seeing a ghost of my former self. The wife who would sit in the living room, waiting late into the night for her husband to return. The wife who would smile and rush to help him with his coat and shoes. “Honey, are you tired? I learned a new massage technique, would you like…” For years, when I wasn’t teaching dance, my life had revolved around him. An endless cycle that never earned me so much as a kind glance. Now, stepping back and looking at it all from a distance, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. Seeing my lack of reaction, John frowned. “What are you thinking about? Running away?” I almost laughed. “And if I was? What would you do?” He walked toward me, then suddenly pushed me down onto the sofa, deftly changing the subject. “You don’t like our son. Let’s have a daughter. A daughter would be quieter. She could keep you company. It would make your life here easier.” When I first married into the family, the staff saw how indifferent John was to me. Combined with my quiet nature, they treated me like dirt, dumping all the hardest chores on me. I had been so in love with him then, I never complained. He saw my predicament, but he just watched, a cold, detached observer. My thoughts snapped back to the present as he pulled down my nightgown. His kisses fell on my skin. Fierce and dominating, with a punishing edge. But no matter what he did, I felt nothing. I realized then that when you don’t love someone, your body doesn't respond. Losing interest, John got off me. “Nora, I know your body. This isn’t how you should be reacting.” He tilted my chin up, his eyes scrutinizing me. “Tell me. Have you been with another man?” John played around, but he was a possessive hypocrite. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching a woman he’d slept with. A security guard at the studio once complimented my dancing. John saw it. The guard was fired the same day. I bit my lip, a bitter laugh escaping through the humiliation. “Yes. It’s exactly what you think. I’ve slept with every man at the studio. Are you going to have them all arrested?” John’s eyes narrowed, his voice turning husky. “Is that so?” Suddenly, he swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom. He actually believed me. “If you’re dirty, then we’ll just have to wash you clean.” He threw me into the bathtub and turned the showerhead on my face, drenching me in ice-cold water. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. I struggled, but I couldn’t break his grip. The shock of the cold water triggered my PTSD. The image of my parents’ plane crashing when I was thirteen flooded my mind. I trembled, curling into a ball in the corner. John thought I was faking it. “Nora, don’t forget why you married me. You’re here to atone, not to live in luxury!” There it was again. The same line he’d repeated countless times. Our entire relationship in a nutshell. Nine out of ten things he said to me were laced with malice. Seeing my eyes glaze over, my body lurching toward the wall, John finally panicked. He pulled me out and laid me on the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happening to you…” “John, you’ve tormented me enough over the years. Let’s just let each other go!” Rage consumed me. I grabbed the divorce agreement from the nightstand and threw it in his face. He stared at the signature line, then snorted. “In such a rush to divorce me. You have another man waiting, don’t you?” I said nothing. He slammed the door on his way out. Tears streamed down my face. But it was alright. After tomorrow, I would be free. 4 The next day, John sent me a text. “If you want my signature, come to the Hilton. Suite 708. I’ve had the staff prepare an outfit for you.” It was a modern cheongsam, tailored to accentuate my slender waist and shoulders. I pushed open the door to the suite and was met by a wall of noise and a crowd of leering faces. Lily’s smile was particularly blinding. “Oh, Nora. Mr. Parkinson wanted to see someone dance, but I sprained my ankle. I’ll have to trouble you.” A man’s eyes devoured me, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. So this was John’s plan. To have me dance in Lily’s place. “Nora, you want a divorce, don’t you?” John’s voice was a low whisper in my ear. “Fine. I’ll grant your wish. As soon as you’ve danced to his satisfaction, I’ll sign the papers.” He then pushed me toward Mr. Parkinson. Mr. Parkinson’s arm wrapped around my waist, his eyes glazed with desire. “They say a dancer’s waist is a thing of beauty, and today I see it’s true. Don’t worry, I promised John. I’ll just get a little feel, I won’t do anything to you. You just dance for me tonight until I’m happy, and I’ll agree to contract with Sterling Corp for the next six months.” I stared at John in disbelief. Everyone in their circle knew about Mr. Parkinson’s… obsession. He couldn’t control himself around a woman with a slender waist. A client had once gifted him such a woman; she’d ended up in the hospital with a broken back. I tore myself from Mr. Parkinson’s grasp and tried to run, but John caught me before I could get far. “Nora, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a touch. It’s not like you’ll lose a piece of flesh. This is your bargaining chip.” So, this was the price of my freedom.
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