Chapter Four

By the time Richard got home, I had already curled up in bed, too drained to pretend anymore. The candles had long melted down to nothing, the food sat untouched on the counter, and the wine remained unopened. I lay in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, staring at the ceiling, wrapped in silence and a sinking ache I couldn’t name.

  I heard the door click open, his familiar footsteps on the hardwood, and then the soft creak of the mattress as he sat beside me.

  “Tessa,” he said gently, his voice warm against the cold wall I was building inside me. “I’m sorry.”

  Before I could turn, he slid beneath the covers and wrapped his arms around me from behind. His scent, that familiar mix of cedar and bergamot, filled my lungs. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, then held something out in front of me... small, velvet, and unmistakably expensive.

  A jewelry box.

  I hesitated. My fingers brushed against the fabric before I slowly opened it. Inside lay a bracelet delicate white gold encrusted with tiny, gleaming diamonds. It sparkled like a ribbon of ice.

  “I didn’t forget,” he whispered. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

  I swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to…”

  “I wanted to.” He kissed my temple. “I’m sorry for working late. The client was demanding. I didn’t mean to miss dinner.”

  I nodded slowly, my fingers tightening around the bracelet. I wanted to believe that the hospital receptionist had made a mistake, or that there was another Richard Anderson visiting another Stacy. I wanted to believe that love was still enough.

  Maybe Stacy was just a friend. Maybe he hadn’t told me about her because he didn’t want to worry me. Maybe…

  He turned me in his arms, and I faced him. His eyes searched mine, gentle and unreadable. I wanted to kiss him, to feel something familiar, grounding. To bury all my doubts in the warmth of his touch.

  But then he smiled and murmured, “Close your eyes.”

  Before I could ask why, he gently covered them with one hand, then leaned in to kiss me. His mouth was soft, persuasive, and strangely... coaxing.

  When he pulled back, he loosened his silk tie and looped it around my eyes.

  “Let’s try something different tonight,” he said, voice low.

  I froze for a moment. “Richard…”

  “Trust me,” he whispered, brushing his fingers down my arm.

  He tied it gently around my eyes like a blindfold.

  “This okay?” he asked.

  I nodded slowly, the sound of my own breath loud in my ears.

  He kissed a trail down my jawline, pausing at the corner of my mouth, then moved to the hollow of my throat. My skin tingled with every featherlight touch, the soft rasp of his breath ghosting over my collarbone.

  “You’re so beautiful like this,” he said against my skin.

  I let out a quiet exhale as his hands traced the curve of my waist, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my nightgown. He took his time, guiding it up my body, brushing his knuckles across my stomach and ribs, until he pulled it over my head and tossed it aside.

  As his lips found mine again, his body pressed against mine, warm and firm. He groaned low in his throat when our skin met, his hands cupping my hips as he whispered my name.

  That’s when I felt it... his breath catching, something unspoken in his tone. Something… off. But before I could speak, he kissed me again, deeply this time, pulling me into him fully.

  He moved inside me slowly, reverently, like he didn’t want to break me. And for a while, it felt like love. Or something close enough.

  I clung to him, eyes still covered, swallowing the lump in my throat. I kissed his shoulder, dug my nails lightly into his back. In a moment of heated rhythm, my hand gripped his nape harder than I intended, and my nail accidentally scraped across his cheek, near his eye.

  He hissed softly. I whispered a rushed apology, but he only chuckled under his breath, brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

  “It’s just a scratch,” he said. “I like when you leave marks.”

  When he finally collapsed beside me, his breathing heavy and arm slung across my stomach, he stilled, just for a moment.

  I felt his hand on my face again as he removed the fold. Not covering my mouth. Not holding my jaw.

  Covering my eyes, fingertips brushing against the lower lashes.

  His thumb gently traced the curve beneath one eye. “So perfect,” he murmured. “Still the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  The next day, I sat alone in the kitchen, sipping tea that had long since gone cold. I stared out the window as the sunlight streamed through, casting golden streaks on the floor, but all I felt was numb.

  My thoughts were broken by the sharp sound of the doorbell.

  I opened the door to find my stepmother standing there, draped in a wrinkled shawl, her perfume clashing with the bitterness of her expression.

  “Tessa,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. “I was in the area.”

  I resisted the urge to sigh. “Come in.”

  She stepped into the living room with the air of someone entering a museum... judging, disapproving, as always. Her eyes immediately found the bracelet on my wrist.

  “Well, well,” she said, smirking. “Diamond already? Richard must’ve had a good night.”

  I said nothing, choosing instead to set a teacup in front of her.

  She sniffed, unimpressed, then leaned forward. “I’m here because your father’s debt is getting out of control. The collectors are circling. I thought maybe… since you’re living in all this luxury…” She gestured vaguely around the room. “You might be able to convince your husband to help.”

  I tensed. “You mean bail him out again?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You owe him, Tessa. We gave up a lot for you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She gave a dry laugh. “Of course you wouldn’t know. You were unconscious, blind, and helpless. Everything happened around you like you were royalty.”

  I stared at her. “What happened?”

  Her gaze flicked to my bracelet again, her lips curling.

  “You want the truth?” she said flatly. “Fine. Your father went bankrupt trying to restore your eyesight. He sold nearly everything we had. And when the money still wasn’t enough, he found a desperate family willing to sell their daughter’s eyes after she was declared brain-dead.”

  My blood turned to ice.

  “What did you say?” I whispered.

  “She was in an accident,” she continued, as if reading off a shopping list. “Poor thing. Her name was Stacy, I think. Her parents agreed to sell her eyes to cover medical bills. Your father paid a fortune for them. All so you could see again.”

  I dropped the teacup. It shattered against the floor.

  Stacy.

  The name echoed in my mind like thunder.

  “I... I didn’t know,” I breathed, sinking into a chair. “They told me it was a donor from another country. They never said her name. They never…”

  “Of course they didn’t,” my stepmother said with a shrug. “What good would that have done? Make you feel guilty? She was practically gone anyway.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “She’s not dead. She’s alive. In a vegetative state.”

  She paused, her smile fading. “How do you know that?”

  My hands were trembling. “I think Richard’s been visiting her.”

  Silence stretched between us.

  “Could it be the same Stacy?” I whispered. “The one who gave me her eyes?”

  My stepmother stood abruptly. “Well. That’s none of my business. I only came here about your father.”

  But I barely heard her anymore. Everything inside me was spiraling. The bracelet on my wrist felt suddenly heavy. My sight, this life, my marriage... everything I had built since the transplant… it all felt like it was balancing on a truth I had never known.

  Stacy.

  Was she the woman Richard had spent our anniversary with?

  The name Stacy kept echoing in my head.