TWO: My Husband Traded Me To His Business Partner

LYRA

For a minute, everything existed in echoes and blurs. I expected Aaron to laugh and tell me he was joking, or to tell me he had dismissed Raguel immediately and that they were currently hunting for another investor. 

But my husband did none of that. 

He continued driving through the quiet road while glancing at me occasionally. 

“That's ridiculous.” My voice was quiet, and I could feel myself shrinking. 

“Yeah, but not uncommon,” he replied, “couples do it all the time. You won't believe the number of elite wives who have opened their legs for investors to save their husbands' companies. I just never thought someone would find my wife desirable enough for a trade like that.”

I ignored the pang in my chest and how my stomach tightened. I could already feel the tears brimming in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. This wasn't happening. Aaron wasn't addressing a dishonor addressed to me like this. 

“I'm sure you told him no already,” my voice was tight as I swallowed an invisible lump. “Don't worry, another investor will come around. A better one that won't request something you can't do.”

“Who says I can't honor his request?” he asked quietly, and that was when I noticed that he had parked at the side of a deserted road, and he was fully looking at me. 

“Of course, we can't honor him. He wants to sleep with me, Aaron. Can you really trade your wife for a business deal?”

“Who says I can't?”

“What?” My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach, and it wasn't in the tiny way that it does whenever Aaron discards my feelings. This one was really horrifying. 

“Listen, Lyra, we don't have all day. We're to meet him in exactly 10 minutes. We're already running late, and he hates tardiness.”

“What are you talking about? It's our wedding anniversary. We're going for a getaway and…”

I trailed off. The look in his eyes confirmed everything, and my heart literally just shattered. The changes in the last month. The spa sessions. The grooming and all. My husband didn't buy me that pair of lingerie to take it off me on our wedding anniversary. He bought them for his business investor to take it off me in exchange for an investment. 

I clamped a hand over my mouth. 

“Aaron? On our anniversary night? You want me to sleep with…”

“He picked the date,” his tone was still dismissive, like we weren't talking about another man sleeping with his wife, “It was his only free day. I couldn't get him to change it.”

“You're not joking. You're really trading me to… You're selling me to…”

“Don't be dramatic, Lyra,” he replied in that dismissive tone that he always used for me whenever I complained about something, “it's just one night, and it's sex. It's probably going to last for a couple of minutes. Just close your eyes and do it for me. For the company. I mean, we're talking about millions of dollars here. One night pales in comparison with it.”

My mouth dropped open. My thoughts were all over the place. I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe that I looked forward to this night and worked so hard for it, only for my husband to tell me that he wants to trade me for a night with some frail older man with some fetish kinks. 

“I'm getting out of here,” I told him, and I grabbed the door handle, but it didn't budge. He had central locked it. 

“Open the door, Aaron. Let me get out of here, and I'll pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Calm down.”

“Let me go, Aaron.” I fumbled with the doorknob harder than while screaming at the top of my voice to let me go, and he repeatedly told me to calm down until pain exploded on my face and forehead. I stilled. 

It was an instinctive reaction to freeze my tears from falling over and to lessen the effect of the pain. 

“God! Look at what you made me do again, Lyra. I wouldn't have had to slap you if you had just calmed down and listened to me.” 

I hiccuped, my body still still as he grabbed my chin and turned my face towards him. He observed it with a calm interest. 

“You need to touch up your powder and lipstick.”

I complied, body numb and detached like my normal reaction to his volatile actions. It doesn't happen often, and it never extends beyond a slap or a shove. 

And it always happens whenever I make him angry. So I just had to stop making him angry. 

“You're going to do it. You're going to sleep with Raguel Whitebrock. You're going to do whatever he wants from you tonight. It's the only way for my company to survive. Without his investment, the company will have to fold. We'd have to get a divorce, and I'm sure your mother will love that, won't she? Having a divorced daughter, especially since the divorce could have been avoided if her daughter had just done the needful.” 

“No,” my voice sounded so faraway and small. 

“So you're going to sleep with Raguel Whitebrock, right?”

“Aaron,” I looked at him, a tear finally rolling down my face, “I can't do this. This is… It’s an insult to me, to you. How would you look at me afterward? How are we… I can't,” I made my tone as firm as possible, “You can beat me up, threaten to divorce me, or report me to my mother, but I can't do this. I won't.”

“Good. It's fine if you don't want to do it, but do you know what this means for me? It means I'm going to jail, Lyra. Your husband will be charged and jailed because the board is already suing me for mismanagement of funds. I kept all of this away from you,” he opened the front compartment, fetched a couple of papers, and dumped them on my thighs. 

I couldn't comprehend a word, but they were court papers, and he was the main offender. 

“I'm sure we'll find another way, another investor to…”

“No, we won't,” his voice was small and broken in a way that broke my heart, “I have until Tuesday to assure that the company is sailing again. If Raguel doesn't invest by tomorrow, then it's over. I'll be jailed. Is that what you want, Lyra?” He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw tears glisten in his eyes. 

I instinctively touched his face to console him. 

“Of course not, Aaron. I don't want you to be jailed. You know I'll do anything to make you happy and see…”

“So do this for me,” he interrupted, voice sharp and tears disappearing as if they were never there, “it's just one night, and it won't last for more than a couple of minutes. It's just a minute sacrifice to fix my company and our marriage.”

He raised his hand and grabbed my face in a tender touch that I haven't gotten from him in years, “Do it for us, Lyra. For our future.”

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice sounding so far away like it belonged to a broken child, “I'll do it.”