Forever HEAVEN: The Billionaire's Nectar

Aneeka's life was falling apart right before her eyes.

Damon, her husband of four years, had always been cold in public. But tonight was worse. He barely looked at her. When he did, his eyes held nothing but irritation before moving on to the champagne, to the guests, to Lily.

It was his brother's wedding. The celebration was in full swing, filled with laughter and joy. But inside, Aneeka felt empty. The happiness around her only made it worse. It was like trying to breathe underwater.

Anne, her best friend, glowed in white lace, clinging to her high school sweetheart. Four years ago, that had been Aneeka standing with Damon, staring at him like he was her whole world. She remembered how her hands had shaken as she fixed his tie that morning. How he had smiled at her then, really smiled, like she mattered.

Today was their anniversary.

But as usual, Damon didn't remember. Or he didn't care. He had been glued to Lily all day. Before the wedding, at the church, and now at the reception. Lily worked at his firm as a paralegal. She was everything Aneeka wasn't - confident, loud, unafraid to take up space.

Aneeka remembered the first time Damon mentioned Lily's name. It was three months ago over dinner. His eyes had lit up when he talked about her brilliant legal mind, her quick wit. That same light had died years ago when he looked at Aneeka.

"Perfect!" Scott, Damon's best friend, shouted, sloshing whiskey from his glass.

Aneeka's fingers dug into her thighs. The burgundy dress she wore had been Damon's choice. He picked out most of her clothes now, claiming she had no taste. The fabric felt like a costume for a role she no longer wanted to play.

Across the room, Damon traced Lily's wrist with his fingers, leaning close. "Gorgeous," he murmured, like it was a secret meant for her ears only.

Too bad everyone heard.

Aneeka collapsed into a chair behind them, trying to drown out their voices, but she couldn't.

"You're extraordinary." Lily's giggle followed.

"Flawless." His thumb traced her knuckles.

Aneeka thought about knocking his hand away, but she didn't. She couldn't. The last time she had confronted him about another woman, he had grabbed her wrist so hard it left marks for a week. She wore long sleeves to work until they faded.

A fresh pain shot through her ribs, not from her heart, but from the bruise Damon had left last night when she'd begged for one dinner together. Just one anniversary dinner. He had shoved her into the kitchen counter, hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

"You're pathetic," he had snarled. "Begging like a dog."

Scott tapped her shoulder, yanking her back to reality.

"What's Damon's favorite color?" he asked, too loud, grinning like he was mocking her.

Aneeka's mouth went dry. Four years. Four years of memorizing his coffee order, his meeting schedules, the way he liked his shirts folded. Four years of becoming smaller and quieter, trying to be the perfect wife. And she couldn't even name a color.

Her mind raced through possibilities. Blue? He wore a lot of blue ties. Black? His car was black. Gray? Like his suits. But which one was his favorite? Had he ever even told her?

"I don't know," she mumbled, her face burning with shame.

Lily's laugh was like a scalpel. "It's white. Right, D?"

The nickname made Aneeka feel sick. It was terrible, but it also stung. She'd never dared call him any nickname. Not after the first time he'd corrected her with that sharp tone that made her feel like a scolded child.

"Call me Damon. We're not children."

She had been trying to be playful, affectionate. The look he gave her killed something inside her that day.

Then Anne's hand appeared, steady on her arm. "Come inside." No pity. Just a lifeline.

Aneeka let herself be led away, Lily's voice chasing after her.

"It's sad, really, D. How do you even marry someone who doesn't know you at all?"

The door shut. Silence.

For the first time all day, Aneeka could breathe.

The door hadn't even clicked shut before Joy, her other best friend, exploded.

"That bastard!" she shouted, storming into the kitchen. Her fists were clenched so tight, Aneeka was afraid she might hurt herself.

Joy had been suspicious of Damon from the beginning. She was the one who noticed when Aneeka stopped wearing sleeveless tops. The one who asked pointed questions when Aneeka canceled plans for the third time in a row because Damon needed her home.

Aneeka collapsed on the couch, her body shaking. The dam broke. Hot tears carved rivers through her carefully applied makeup as she stared at the ceiling, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.

She thought about her mother, who had died alone in a tiny apartment, surrounded by empty wine bottles and photographs of the men who had left her. Aneeka had sworn she would never end up like that. But wasn't this worse? At least her mother had been alone by choice, not trapped.

Joy returned with a damp cloth and painkillers, her rage a living thing.

"You're leaving him. Tonight." It wasn't a request. It was a command.

Aneeka's voice broke. "I can't. I'm just so tired."

She was tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushing tired. Tired of walking on eggshells. Tired of apologizing for existing. Tired of making herself smaller and smaller until she barely recognized herself anymore.

Joy's hands trembled as she lifted Aneeka's shirt, then froze.

The bruises were bad. Very bad.

Angry purple marks, fresh from last night. One especially vicious mark swirled like a dark galaxy across her ribs where the counter edge had caught her.

Joy's breath hitched. "This isn't love," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It's a death sentence."

Aneeka flinched as the cloth touched her skin. The pain was white-hot and blinding.

"When you finally leave him," Joy hissed, tears spilling now, "I swear to God, Aneeka, don't let it be in a body bag."

"What now?" Joy's voice had dropped, but the fury was still there.

Aneeka wiped her eyes, smearing mascara everywhere. "I'll watch my words better. He was just..."

"Upset?" Joy finished flatly. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Yeah. Keep telling yourself that."

No matter how much her friends tried to help, Aneeka couldn't imagine a life without Damon. She defended him every time, convincing herself she deserved it. The isolation had worked. He had slowly cut her off from everyone who might tell her the truth about what love should look like.

It was really simple in her mind. If she were thinner, prettier, quieter, then he'd love her like he used to. Like he had during their first year together when he brought her flowers and called her beautiful.

And if he didn't? Well, that was her fault too.

Damon was her only source of validation now. She clung to him, terrified of being alone like her mother had been. But the cruel irony was that she had never felt more alone than she did right now, sitting in his house, wearing his ring.

But now, with Joy and Anne staring at her with such fierce love and determination, she wondered if Damon was really worth dying for.

Anne's hands tightened around Aneeka. "We can help you," she said softly. "You don't have to keep doing this. Let us help."

Joy sank down beside her, exhausted. "This is your chance. Report him. Take back what's yours."

"I can't!" Aneeka flinched like she'd been struck. Just thinking about Damon, about standing up to him, made her freeze with terror. "You don't understand. He'll destroy me. Please don’t make me do this please. He was just upset"

Anne pulled her into a gentle hug. "It's okay. You're not alone. Not anymore."

For the first time in years, Aneeka felt a small flicker of hope. It was fragile, barely there, but real. The weight on her chest lifted just enough for her to take a full breath.

Then they heard footsteps, heavy and fast. Laughter followed. Damon was the loudest and most excited. Then came the unmistakable sound of applause.

The three women froze. Through the thin walls, they could hear champagne glasses clinking and someone shouting congratulations.

Aneeka's blood turned to ice. She knew that tone. She knew what it meant.

Damon sounded exactly the same way he had the night she paid him to propose.

He'd laughed at first, thought she was joking, until the bank alert came through. Then he laughed again.

Loud. Wild. Just like now.

"Congratulations!" someone shouted through the wall.

Her hands started shaking.

She knew that tone. It meant Damon was announcing something or doing something big.

And very, very wrong.