When His Love Became My Torture

ated me like a ghost. He flaunted his affair with his mistress, Kasey,

a contract that would give me back our g

g her children, then had t

ragged me to a museum for his

t. Then he hung me upside down for the w

hidden cameras. Or the powe

dead, but they on

pte

Anders

ars since the accident stole him from me, leaving a cruel stranger in his place. A man who sat across the gallery, openly displaying his

leaned into him, a possessive hand on his arm. This scene was a tableau I had grown accustomed to, a daily b

as a potential buyer approached. This gallery, once our shared dream, was now my cage. I was Addison Anderson, renowned art gallery owner,

. Davies?" I asked, my voice steady, betra

n, the investment potential. My words flowed, professional and confident, a stark contr

not to support, but to dismiss. His eyes, once ful

nt only for my ears. "I thought you' d have graduated to something with actual me

in my stomach. I felt my face flush, but I forced my expression to r

t be so harsh. Addison tries her best, I' m sure." Her gaze flickered to me, a flash of malice in

haotic piece of her own hanging prominently. It was strategically

asey purred, addressing Mr. Davies directly, effectively hijacking my client.

r substance. Her art was flashy, superficial, devoid of genuine emotio

to check a notification. My fingers trembled slightly as I palmed the device,

cold and sharp, shot

e. It was quick, gone almost before I registered it, but it was there. He knew me too well

to maintain. "I have some papers for your signature. Just routine acquisition do

t. His lips curled. "More of your adm

ye contact. "Legal deadlines, you understand. Wou

't even glance at the document before scribbling his name, his signature bold and sprawling. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was s

our gallery, was mine. He had signed over his controlling interest, disguise

ething, isn't it? Running this place into the ground with your 'vision'." He gestured around the elegant space, his ey

he kissed his cheek, her eyes fixed on me, a taunt in their depths. "Do

disrespect, their sickening affection. My stomach churned, a knot of revulsion tightening in my gut.

bing my wrist. His touch, once gentle, was no

his eyes narrowing. "Don't you have something

ls digging into my skin. I winced

whispered, my voi

. "Let go? After everything? After you've man

th a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and a searing pain erupted at the base of m

ound, you pathetic creature," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "You think a few tears w

try woven into the fabric of my life these past five years. I had endured it all, clinging to the ghost of th

h. My vision cleared just enough to see Kasey watching, a smirk pl

e signed contract like a lifeline. I ha

ay my hands trembled. "So eager to run away, are we?" he challenged, his voice dri

essional tone, pushing down the rising panic. "The gallery requ

r happiest moments, was a cruel twist of the knife. Each syllable scraped against my raw nerves, ripping open old wounds. My breath caught in my th

eeding air. Needing to breathe without

rush off just yet. There's something I need your expert opinion on." She held up a small, exquisitely carved wooden bird, a d

our first anniversary. My stomach clenched, bile rising

ace flush, my hands clenching into fists. The urge to scream,

he expert opinion, please. Kasey values your... insights." His tone w

y in my palm. My fingers brushed against the smooth wood, a ghost of memory, a whisper of a time

. My voice was hoarse, strained. I hated the sound of my own s

ed in it. A flicker of something predatory, almost satisfied, crossed his face. He leaned cl

he still trying to read me? A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I felt a tremor run th

ls, perhaps you could re-arrange the display for my new collection? The lighting could be... more

My hands, still clutching the small wooden bird, tightene

n, even if her own art sense is lacking. Get to it, Addison." His voice was flat, devoid

urned violently, and my head pounded. I felt a wave of d

over me. No. Not yet. I had come

dy. "Anything to ensure the collection receives the attention it deserves." I placed the carved bird bac

icion now. It was something darker, something almost... dis

ard. "You're... quiet today. Di

emotion. "I accept the reality of my situation, Ethan," I re

d it. He turned to Kasey, his arm wrapping around her waist. "Come, Kasey. Let's leave Addison to her... 'duti

issive flick of his wrist. "And try not to make this pl

arble floors. Kasey leaned her head on Ethan' s shoulder, her eyes darting b

focating. I felt the familiar burn of humiliation, the slow, agonizing erosion of my spirit

mine. His eyes, cold and hard, locked onto mine. "Oh, and Addison," he called out, his voice carrying just loud e

ip in its marble top where my head had hit. A fresh

d, his voice laced with venom, "And know this, Addi

tire body stiffened, a cold dread washing over me. He owned me. He truly bel

rted to tremble uncontrollably. He had signed it. He had signed away his claim. But his words, his absol

s, this place, once a testament to our shared love for art, had been a

d, layer by agonizing layer. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of him leaving with Kasey, t

n my hand. He thought I was broken. He thought I was defeated.

just the

Anders

ars since the accident stole him from me, leaving a cruel stranger in his place. A man who sat across the gallery, openly displaying his

leaned into him, a possessive hand on his arm. This scene was a tableau I had grown accustomed to, a daily b

as a potential buyer approached. This gallery, once our shared dream, was now my cage. I was Addison Anderson, renowned art gallery owner,

. Davies?" I asked, my voice steady, betra

n, the investment potential. My words flowed, professional and confident, a stark contr

not to support, but to dismiss. His eyes, once ful

nt only for my ears. "I thought you' d have graduated to something with actual me

in my stomach. I felt my face flush, but I forced my expression to r

t be so harsh. Addison tries her best, I' m sure." Her gaze flickered to me, a flash of malice in

haotic piece of her own hanging prominently. It was strategically

asey purred, addressing Mr. Davies directly, effectively hijacking my client.

r substance. Her art was flashy, superficial, devoid of genuine emotio

to check a notification. My fingers trembled slightly as I palmed the device,

cold and sharp, shot

e. It was quick, gone almost before I registered it, but it was there. He knew me too well

to maintain. "I have some papers for your signature. Just routine acquisition do

t. His lips curled. "More of your adm

ye contact. "Legal deadlines, you understand. Wou

't even glance at the document before scribbling his name, his signature bold and sprawling. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was s

our gallery, was mine. He had signed over his controlling interest, disguise

ething, isn't it? Running this place into the ground with your 'vision'." He gestured around the elegant space, his ey

he kissed his cheek, her eyes fixed on me, a taunt in their depths. "Do

disrespect, their sickening affection. My stomach churned, a knot of revulsion tightening in my gut.

bing my wrist. His touch, once gentle, was no

his eyes narrowing. "Don't you have something

ls digging into my skin. I winced

whispered, my voi

. "Let go? After everything? After you've man

th a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and a searing pain erupted at the base of m

ound, you pathetic creature," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "You think a few tears w

try woven into the fabric of my life these past five years. I had endured it all, clinging to the ghost of th

h. My vision cleared just enough to see Kasey watching, a smirk pl

e signed contract like a lifeline. I ha

ay my hands trembled. "So eager to run away, are we?" he challenged, his voice dri

essional tone, pushing down the rising panic. "The gallery requ

r happiest moments, was a cruel twist of the knife. Each syllable scraped against my raw nerves, ripping open old wounds. My breath caught in my th

eeding air. Needing to breathe without

t rush off just yet. There's something I need your expert opinion on." She held up a small, exquisitely carved wooden bird, a

our first anniversary. My stomach clenched, bile rising

ace flush, my hands clenching into fists. The urge to scream,

he expert opinion, please. Kasey values your... insights." His tone w

y in my palm. My fingers brushed against the smooth wood, a ghost of memory, a whisper of a time

. My voice was hoarse, strained. I hated the sound of my own s

ed in it. A flicker of something predatory, almost satisfied, crossed his face. He leaned cl

he still trying to read me? A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I felt a tremor run th

ls, perhaps you could re-arrange the display for my new collection? The lighting could be... more

My hands, still clutching the small wooden bird, tightene

n, even if her own art sense is lacking. Get to it, Addison." His voice was flat, devoid

urned violently, and my head pounded. I felt a wave of d

over me. No. Not yet. I had come

dy. "Anything to ensure the collection receives the attention it deserves." I placed the carved bird bac

icion now. It was something darker, something almost... dis

ard. "You're... quiet today. Di

emotion. "I accept the reality of my situation, Ethan," I re

d it. He turned to Kasey, his arm wrapping around her waist. "Come, Kasey. Let's leave Addison to her... 'duti

issive flick of his wrist. "And try not to make this pl

arble floors. Kasey leaned her head on Ethan' s shoulder, her eyes darting b

focating. I felt the familiar burn of humiliation, the slow, agonizing erosion of my spirit

mine. His eyes, cold and hard, locked onto mine. "Oh, and Addison," he called out, his voice carrying just loud e

ip in its marble top where my head had hit. A fresh

d, his voice laced with venom, "And know this, Addi

tire body stiffened, a cold dread washing over me. He owned me. He truly bel

rted to tremble uncontrollably. He had signed it. He had signed away his claim. But his words, his absol

s, this place, once a testament to our shared love for art, had been a

d, layer by agonizing layer. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of him leaving with Kasey, t

n my hand. He thought I was broken. He thought I was defeated.

just the