The soft melody of the jazz quartet died away, cut off by the sharp, ugly crack of a hand striking flesh. A burning pain exploded across my cheek. I stumbled backward, my heels sliding on the polished floor, and crashed into the sharp corner of a dining table before sprawling onto the cold marble.
Gasps broke through the elegant ballroom of the Starlight Room high above downtown Chicago, turning the champagne-soaked air into something tight and suffocating. My colleagues at the next table stared in horror. My husband’s family stared too, but their looks were not horrified.
They were satisfied.
My mother-in-law, Sharon Miller, did not gasp. She smiled. There was no concern in her voice, only a quiet, poisonous satisfaction as she spoke over the stunned silence.
‘Someone had to teach her a lesson,’ she said, her tone almost relaxed. ‘Go on, Kevin. What good is a wife who thinks she’s better than her own husband? No matter how successful you think you are, Grace, at home you’re just the wife. And tonight, not even anyone up there is going to step in to help you.’
Humiliation burned hotter than the sting on my skin. At the lowest point of my pain and shame, I fumbled blindly for my phone. My hand shook so badly it almost slipped from my grasp as I dialed the only number I could think to call.
My brother.
My voice was barely a whisper, shredded by tears.
‘Ethan… please save me.’
God did not save me that night in Chicago.
My brother did.
It’s almost absurd to think that this nightmare had begun just thirty minutes earlier, during what I had believed was the happiest moment of my life.
That evening, in the opulent Starlight Room overlooking the glittering expanse of the city, I truly thought I was the luckiest woman in America. My name is Grace Anderson, and I was wearing a stunning emerald silk gown that my husband, Kevin Miller, had picked out for me himself. I sat surrounded by applause and congratulations.
The party was for me.
After seven relentless years of pouring everything I had into my career, I had finally been promoted to Vice President of Project Development at one of the country’s largest real estate firms. My colleagues clinked their glasses, my CEO smiled at me, and the Chicago skyline sparkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows like it was celebrating with us.
I glanced at Kevin, at my in-laws, at my smiling sisters-in-law. I honestly believed my success was their pride. I thought seven years of being a patient daughter-in-law and a devoted wife had finally earned me their acceptance.
I was wrong.
That miscalculation would almost cost me everything.
The celebration was in full swing when my CEO, a kind middle-aged man who had been my mentor since my first day, stood and raised his glass.
‘If I could have your attention for a moment,’ he said, his voice warm and easy. ‘I am truly overjoyed and immensely proud to have an employee as exceptional as Grace Anderson. She is not only brilliant and talented but has a will of iron.’
He turned to Kevin and clapped him on the shoulder.
‘Kevin, my friend, you are one lucky man to have a diamond like this for a wife. You’d better hold on tight.’
The room erupted in applause. I beamed, cheeks warm with happiness, and turned to my husband, ready to squeeze his hand and thank him for his support.
But when our eyes met, my smile froze.
There was no pride in his gaze. No joy. Only something dark simmering beneath the surface – a sour mix of jealousy and resentment.
His jaw was clenched tight. He held his whiskey glass so hard his knuckles were pale. Only then did I realize that Kevin had been drinking nonstop since the moment we’d arrived.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mother lean in close. Sharon’s lips moved against his ear, too soft for me to hear, but I watched the way her eyes flicked toward me and the small, triumphant smirk tugging at her mouth. Whatever she said, it was not meant to calm him.
She patted the back of his hand, not in comfort but in encouragement, feeding the fire already burning inside him.
Kevin shot to his feet so fast his chair scraped loudly against the marble. He swayed slightly, then lurched toward me. The smell of expensive whiskey rolled off him as he leaned down.
‘So good, aren’t you? So impressive,’ he snarled, voice just loud enough to make the nearby tables fall silent. ‘You’re the big boss now. On top of the world. And what does that make me? Your husband? I’m nothing in your eyes, right?’
‘Kevin, what are you talking about?’ I whispered, stunned, trying to reach for his arm. ‘Everyone is watching. You’ve had too much to drink. Please sit down.’
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page to discover the rest 🔎👇
