Chapter 2
I stayed awake all night.
Eric's words were like a thorn, piercing my heart.
I looked at his sleeping face, and the crash from ten years ago flashed before my eyes again.
The brakes shrieked, the headlights cut through the darkness, and metal crumpled around us, while he grunted quietly, shielding me with his body.
He sacrificed a leg to save my life.
The crushing guilt was enough to make me do anything for him, including enduring all his indifference and criticism.
I rolled over, telling myself to stop overthinking.
Maybe my marriage had gotten too boring. I needed to do something to shake things up.
The next day, almost on a whim, I found myself walking into a sex shop.
Under the clerk's teasing gaze, I blushed and bought a costume and a few toys.
After Eric finished his shower, I slipped into the costume.
The white skirt barely covered my hips, and the buttons at my chest looked like they could pop open any second.
I grabbed a stethoscope and walked over, my heart racing.
"Mr. Lawson, would you like me to give you a physical exam?" I said, trying to sound all sweet and flirty like in the movies.
Eric just stared at me, his face completely blank.
His gaze traveled from my face to my chest, finally settling on my bare legs.
There was no desire in his gaze, just assessment. It was like I was some ridiculous fool in his eyes.
"Julia," he said, his voice icy. "Don't you think you look ridiculous right now?"
My smile froze.
"Take that off. Don't embarrass yourself," he said, his voice cold as ever.
He said nothing more and lay down, facing away from me.
I stood there, my whole body feeling numb.
Shame, humiliation, and a sharp pain overwhelmed me.
Staring at my pathetic reflection in the mirror, I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.
I locked myself in the bathroom and just sobbed until I couldn't anymore.
When I was finally done crying, I decided to throw all that stuff away.
When I got back to the bedroom, Eric was already asleep.
His prosthetic leg was standing quietly on its stand by the bed, just like every night.
It was a part of him, and it was also the source of all my guilt.
Taking care of his prosthetics was something I did every single day. I grabbed the special cleaner and a soft cloth, sat on the carpet, and started wiping it down.
I knew every inch of it: the metal connections, the leather straps.
As I was cleaning the groove where it connected to his stump, my finger suddenly brushed against a tiny bump. It was so subtle, almost like a flaw in the metal seam.
However, this prosthetic was custom-made by one of the top technicians in Esten. There shouldn't be any flaws.
I stopped and leaned in, squinting at it under the lamp.
It wasn't a flaw; it was a hidden seam I'd never notice unless I were looking for it.
My heart skipped a beat. I found a needle and gently worked along the seam.
Soon, a tiny black square, no bigger than a fingernail, popped free.
It was a micro memory card. Next to the slot was a hole smaller than the tip of the needle.
It was a hidden camera.
My mind went blank. My limbs felt icy, and my heart was pounding so hard that I could hardly catch my breath.
Why? Why would there be a camera hidden inside his prosthetic?
Trembling, I grabbed the card and rushed into the study, inserting it into the computer.
A folder popped up on the screen. The name was "My Paradise".
I clicked it open. Inside were countless video files, all named by date. The newest one was from yesterday.
My hand hovered over the mouse. I just couldn't make myself click.
A terrible feeling tightened around my throat.
After a few deep breaths, I finally forced myself to click on the file.
The video started playing.
It was our bedroom, and everything was instantly recognizable. The angle was low, exactly where the camera in the prosthetic would be.
The frame wobbled, and someone stepped into view.
It was Sophie. She was wearing the costume I'd just bought today.
She was striking seductive poses for the camera.
"Eric, don't I look so much hotter in this than Julia?" she cooed, her voice dripping with flirtation.
Then she bent down and picked up the prosthetic leg.
She looked straight into the camera, her face smug and mocking. "Julia is a fool. She actually thought buying all this stuff could make you love her again.
"She doesn't even know that all those toys she picked out end up being mine to play with."
I stared at the screen, feeling shocked.
I kept clicking through the videos. There were so many. Some were on our bed, some on the living room couch, and even a few in the kitchen, which I'd put together with my own hands.
They had sex right in the home I'd built, using all the things I'd bought.
The videos spanned from three years ago up until yesterday.
Everything I'd spent ten years of my life on, my marriage, my efforts, my guilt, was really just a joke.
I didn't cry. Not even a single tear came out.
I just calmly copied all the videos onto an encrypted hard drive.
Then I opened the browser and typed: [Concentrated hydrofluoric acid gel.]
The page showed the chemical's properties, saying it was highly corrosive and lethal on contact.
I closed the page and opened a website for custom special-effect props.
In the contact form, I typed out a message. [Hello, I'd like to order a custom prosthetic that's exactly like the original, down to every detail.]