CHAPTER 3

EUDORA

TWO YEARS LATER

Being married to Desmond was worse than I had imagined.

I lost my job.

Not because I took time off but because he went there himself and convinced my boss to fire me.

And he didn’t stop there.

He made sure no one else would hire me. Every application I sent out was rejected almost immediately, like my name had been marked somewhere. Even my own father refused to give me a position in his growing company.

Just like that, my life was stripped down and rebuilt into something I didn’t choose.

A housewife.

Not by desire. Not by agreement.

By force, due to my husband’s influence.

All I had left was Desmond’s money.

To anyone looking from the outside, it would seem like I had everything. I wasn’t starving. I lacked nothing money could buy. Expensive clothes, designer bags, jewellery, anything I needed to match his image in public, he provided without hesitation.

But none of it was mine.

Every single purchase was made under one name.

Camellia Dawson.

Even the diamonds.

I was living a life meant for someone else.

Breathing in spaces that were never created for me.

The silence of the house makes me want to go crazy. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to talk to.

Just thoughts.

Too many thoughts.

Frustration clawed at my chest as I reached for another bottle of vodka, my second for the night. I twisted the cap open and took a long swallow straight from it.

The burn didn’t bother me anymore.

If anything, I welcomed it.

I could feel it already, the slow, dizzy warmth spreading through my body.

I was getting drunk.

And I didn’t care.

Today marked two years and five months since my sister disappeared.

Two years.

And somehow, even after all this time, everyone still found a way to remind me of what I had done. Of how my existence had been nothing but a curse from the moment I was born.

So yes…

If I wanted to drown myself in alcohol just to quiet the noise in my head_

Then maybe, just for today,

I deserved it.

Almost done with the second bottle, my vision had already started to blur.

Everything around me felt distant… unreal.

A wave of heat spread through my body, making my skin feel too tight, too warm. I tried to drop the bottle, but even that simple action felt difficult. The floor seemed farther away than it should have been.

A soft laugh slipped out of my lips.

I tried again… and again… until the bottle finally slipped from my hand and hit the ground with a dull sound.

Breathing heavily, I reached for the tie of my robe and loosened it, desperate to feel the cool air against my skin.

But the heat didn’t stop, if anything, it grew worse.

I grabbed the bottle again and pushed myself up, my body swaying as I struggled to stay upright. My hand dragged along the wall for support as I stumbled toward the bedroom.

When I finally reached the bed, I let myself fall onto it, the mattress dipping beneath me.

I closed my eyes, my mouth slightly open as I tried to steady my breathing.

For a while, I just lay there.

Then, slowly, I lifted the bottle again and finished whatever was left, then tossed it aside carelessly.

For a brief moment… everything felt light.

Detached.

Like I wasn’t really there anymore.

And then_

I felt it.

A hand.

Warm.

Slowly tracing up my thigh.

A soft giggle escaped me before I could stop it.

It felt… nice.

Confused but curious, I forced my eyes open, trying to see what was happening.

There was someone.

A figure.

Close.

Too close.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make out a face.

I reached out, my fingers stretching toward him, but they passed through empty air.

That was when I realized I was dreaming.

A faint smile curved on my lips.

A wet dream.

Why not?

The hand moved again, slipping beneath the fabric of my nightdress, the tip of his finger brushing my lace thong, while his other hand curved behind me back to pull me into a seated position, his mouth finding mine.

He smelt awfully familiar, but I couldn’t figure out who or where.

I returned the kiss with the same intensity, attacking his lips, my body hot from the alcohol consumption.

He groped my breast with his other hand, squeezing and fumbling…

My hand went to his belt, quickly unbuckling it, which made him snicker. He slipped off the straps of my nightdress, leaving my breast exposed.

I felt chills, goosebumps sprouting on my skin, but I didn’t give two fucks about that. I was too consumed by desire to care about that.

“You smell so nice,” he slurred in my ear as he pulled off the rest of my rest, my thongs following it.

Shoving me down the bed, he leaned lower, taking my lips into his again, his other hand disappearing inbetween my thighs.

“You are so wet for me…” he mumbled before slipping off his finger.

I felt the crown of his dick brush my entrance, teasing me slightly before he rammed it all in at once, causing me to whimper out of pleasure.

This is surely going to be a long night, and I am not sure I want to wake up just yet.

***************

I woke up with a pounding headache.

I deserved it.

After everything I drank last night, there was no way my body was going to let me escape without punishment.

Eyes still closed, I had a flash of the dream I had last night and grinned widely, almost giggling to myself.

Don’t blame me.

Desmond had never touched me since the day we got married. Not once. Not even accidentally. And it wasn’t like I wanted him to.

But I am still human.

Don’t blame me, Desmond has never touched me, not that I want him to, nor can I have sex with someone outside marriage…

So I think it is fair to say I would rather dream about it.

I exhaled slowly, still smiling, then finally opened my eyes.

I turned slightly, reaching for my pillow_

And froze.

My smile vanished instantly.

Desmond was lying on the other side of my bed.

Bare-chested.

Asleep.

Covered only by the duvet.

For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

Then my hand flew to my mouth, muffling the scream that almost escaped me.

No.

No, no, no.

Slowly, I pushed myself upright, my body suddenly cold as my eyes darted past him.

His clothes.

Scattered across the floor.

His shirt. His trousers.

Everything.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt.

I blinked rapidly, trying to force logic into the situation. Trying to rewind my memory of last night. Trying to find anything that explained how he ended up here.

In my bed.

In my room.

With me.

His soft snoring pulled my attention back to him.

I stared for a moment longer, then leaned in slightly, almost unconsciously, and caught his breath.

He smelt like he finished a barrel of wine.

He had been just as drunk as I was.

Maybe even worse.

A breath I didn’t know I was holding slipped out.

No.

There is no way I am staying here for this conversation when he wakes up.

I slipped out of the bed as quickly as I could, careful not to make a sound. My bare feet touched the cold floor, sending a faint shiver up my spine as I tiptoed toward my night dress and robe. My fingers had just curled around the fabric when a low, strained groan broke the silence behind me.

The sound froze me in place.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, I turned.

Desmond was awake.

His eyes, heavy with sleep and confusion, locked onto me. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak just stared. Then his gaze began to travel, inch by inch, from the thin strap of the night dress hanging loosely around on my fingertip, down the length of my exposed body.

The confusion in his expression twisted into visible disgust. “Are you going to cover up?” he snapped, but quickly winced, one hand flying to his head.

My body jerked back into motion as I hurriedly pulled the night dress over myself, my movements clumsy and rushed. I bent quickly, snatching my thong from the floor before reaching for my robe, wrapping it tightly around me.

Behind me, Desmond pushed himself upright, his movements slow and strained. One hand remained pressed against his temple as he fought through the hangover. With the other, he lifted the duvet slightly, glancing beneath it.

His brows drew together.

“Please don’t tell me we…” he muttered under his breath.

I didn’t know what to say.

Did he want an answer? Did he expect one?

I stood there, stiff and uncertain, my fingers twisting together as I watched him.

Then his head snapped up.

“How dare you?” he growled, his eyes locking onto mine.

The anger in his voice forced me to take an instinctive step backwards.

“Didn’t I make it clear when we got married that this marriage was not meant to be consummated? How dare you take advantage of me while I was drunk?”

Take advantage? Me? I let out a tight breath, forcing the anger down just enough to speak clearly. “I did not take advantage of you,” I said through clenched teeth. “Look around you. You’re in my room. On my bed.”

“You could have brought me here,” he shot back.

A bitter laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. “Why would I want to sleep with a man who has spent the last two years despising me?” My voice rose slightly. “We were both drunk. Things happened. That’s it.” I shook my head, my gaze dropping for a second before I forced it back up to him. “And if I could undo what happened between us, believe me, I would.”

He pushed himself off the bed abruptly. Grabbing his trousers from the floor, he pulled them on in quick, impatient motions, then reached for his shirt and the rest of his things.

“You expect me to believe that?” he scoffed. “a manipulative evil bitch like you did not plan this whole shit?”

I sucked in a breath.

“What is it you want?” he continued, turning to face me fully. “An heir? You think having a child will suddenly change everything?”

“Jesus Christ! I did no_”

“If you say a single word about what happened here,” he interjected, “I will make your life far worse than it already is.”

Before I could respond, before I could even gather my thoughts, he turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.