Chapter 1

My husband, William Ludwig, forced me to peel mangoes for his first love, Yara Green, completely ignoring my allergy.

My skin erupted in angry red welts, and I could barely breathe. Clinging to his shirt, I begged him, desperate and helpless, "William, please, take me to the hospital. I think I'm dying."

But because of a casual remark from Yara, William deliberately locked me in the private suite at the club.

He said, "I'll come check on you tomorrow to see if you're still alive."

It wasn't until three days later that he finally remembered me.

The moment he opened the door, the sharp, sickening stench of my decaying body filled the air.

*****

"Winnie, come to the Galaxy Club," William's voice crackled through the phone.

I had just walked out of the hospital when his call came in, the cancer diagnosis clutched in my hand, nearly crumpled from my grip.

Without a second thought for the dull pain in my lower abdomen, I jumped in my car and sped straight to the club.

Under the dim lights, I spotted William tied to a chair, with several burly men lounging nearby.

My heart skipped a beat, but I didn't hesitate. I rushed forward, shoving them aside and standing protectively in front of William.

"What do you want? Money? Or something else?" I demanded.

William's voice came from behind me, low and desperate. He said, "Winnie, help me."

I'd never seen William, always so proud, look this pale and utterly terrified before.

My heart fluttered as I wrapped him in my arms, doing my best to calm him. I said, "Don't be scared. I'm here."

One of the men said, "So you are his woman? You're quite the stunner, aren't you? So here's your choice: come upstairs and have fun with us, or leave one of your fingers behind for him.

"Or hey, you could just walk away and pretend none of this ever happened."

The thugs watched us with twisted smirks, their eyes cold and threatening.

William looked up at me, his eyes red and desperate. "Winnie," he rasped, "let them take one of your fingers for me. From now on, I'll listen to you. I'll be yours—completely."

I stared at the man I'd loved for six years. For a moment, I couldn't even speak.

Seeing me like that, William's gaze grew colder, and his voice took on a chill.

"Didn't you say you loved me? Or are you not willing to do this for me?" he challenged.

Before he could finish, I cut him off, finding my voice again.

"I'm willing, William. I won't let anything happen to you," I said firmly.

William studied me, a frown on his face, and for a moment, there was something in his eyes I couldn't quite decipher.

Then, he suddenly traced the hearing aid in my left ear, his voice low and unreadable.

"Would you really let them take your finger for me?" he asked.

I nodded without a second thought. I said, "I am. Whatever it takes, I'll do it for you."

William looked at me and let out a low, mocking laugh, a glint of ridicule flashing in his eyes.

He called out, "Yara, guess you lost. Looks like you're taking me home tonight."

The next second, Yara emerged from the alley behind us.

William freed himself from the ropes and walked over, wrapping his arm around her affectionately.

Yara gave me a mocking glare and sneered, "Winnie, you really make us women look bad. I've never seen anyone suck up harder than you."

The tough guys who'd just been acting all scary now cracked up, laughing loudly and nastily.

"William, you've got your bitch on a tight leash!" one of them snickered.

My face went ghostly pale, my fists clenched so tight they shook. What was left to figure out? The truth was staring me right in the face.

All that raw emotion I'd just poured out was nothing but a circus act to them. Just entertainment, watching me make a fool of myself.

They all walked into the Galaxy Club.

I trailed after them into the private suite, my heart heavy.

William hadn't told me to leave, so I stayed, even though my lower abdomen was aching with a constant, prickling pain.

The moment they sat down, William asked gently, "Yara, want some mango?"

Yara nodded, barely interested. She said, "Peeling it is such a hassle."

William paused, then pointed right at me. He demanded, "Get over here and peel the mango for Yara."

My body trembled as I said, "William, I'm allergic to mangoes."

William casually slung his arm around Yara's shoulders, a look of annoyance flashing in his eyes.

"If you can't peel it, just get out of here. Don't give me that lame excuse," he snapped.

The noisy suite suddenly fell silent, everyone staring at me—William's doormat—waiting to see if I'd finally walk away.

I stood there, stiff and awkward, unable to move a muscle.

After a moment, I trudged to the table, picked up a mango, and began peeling it mechanically, my hands trembling.

Surrounded by their blatant hostility, I kept my expression emotionless.

One of the guys snickered, "William, you're something else.

"Man, I've never seen a lapdog this obedient. If William asked her to jump off a bridge, she'd probably ask which one."

William shot me a look, a smug glint flashing in his eyes.

I kept my head down, still as a puppet, peeling the mango slowly, strip by strip.

Only I knew how much it hurt inside, so badly I could barely breathe.