Chapter 1 ~ Another Night

Vivian’s POV

"Your wife is amazing," the old man said, shaking hands with my husband.

I let the tears roll down my cheeks. Standing before the mirror, I pulled the shoulders of my dress up, covering what was on display. My whole body was shaking with the unbearable disgust running into my nerves.

All I wanted now was a sharp blade so close to my neck that it would feel terribly painful, still sweeter than all of this.

"I am glad you enjoyed this. I hope for the best for the next venture so we can continue this one," my husband laughed, and I lowered my gaze with shame.

"Haha, of course, it's yours," the other man replied, zipping his trousers over his fat belly.

"Also, I am celebrating my sixtieth birthday tomorrow. Please be there," my husband said, and I slid the dress down my thighs. The cum of the other man was still glued to the inside of my thighs, making me want to peel my skin off.

Gulping nervously, I turned around and walked towards the man. He was in his sixties, too. Tipping on my toes, I kissed his cheek and preached the words I had memorized now. "I have enjoyed a lot with you. I hope we can meet again,"

"Of course," he said, immediately grasping my back. My breath hitched, yet I maintained a stiff and welcoming posture, "I loved your honeycomb around me." he whispered, kissing my cheek over the dry bed of tears. I smiled weakly.

Walking out of the room I hated the most, I went to my bedroom and immediately stood under the painfully burning hot shower.

The smokey stream of water felt like the droplets of lava on my skin, yet the only tears I had rolling down my cheeks were due to the memories of countless men knowing how I looked without clothes.

The top CEOs, the politicians, and every friend of my husband, Glen Ford, had reached my bed. It was no coincidence.

This was my husband's way of getting their money invested in his business, Ford Industries, a billion-dollar company that is the leading brand in Airlines and shopping Malls and the parent company of several small businesses.

I still remember being 21 years old and happily studying at the University when he arrived as a guest. I was the honorable speaker for him, and he offered me to be his wife.

I was shocked at first, but when he showed me the countless opportunities that lay behind the curtains of illusion, I agreed.

The worst mistake of my life.

Being an orphan with a scholarship to be in the University, almost closer to my goal, I slipped off and landed right into his bed.

Countless nights I spent crying, burning bit by bit, day by day with his never-ending lust. Morning, afternoon, evening, night. He never stops.

On top of that, he invites his friends to use me as they wish. Some would tie me up, some would fuck me down to the throat, and some would play so brutally with me that I would lay breathless in bed for days.

And, if I would ever try to run away or complain, he would fill a few dollars in the needful pockets and get me back.

Nobody knew me; nobody wanted to know about me either.

I was a plastic face, always smiling at every camera she saw. Our relationship is always in the top headlines.

And, now, it was all becoming too much. The suffocation had reached my head. Leave about being loved; I did not know when was the last time someone asked me if I was eating or sleeping well.

I thought marrying him would give me a shortcut to a better life and I would reach my goals, but I was getting closer to my death.

Tomorrow is his sixtieth birthday, and being so sore, I could not even think of entertaining him a bit.

I wanted to die.

My eyes burnt with the pain, and I had to come out of the shower as even the water began betraying me. It turned cold.

I lay half-dead for the rest of the day and the night and could not get out of bed until the butlers arrived and began decorating Glen Ford's doll for the event.

A tight, revealing red dress hugged my body as a rope around the neck, tightening every moment. My hair flowed low down to my hips—slightly waved and curvy.

Diamonds and rubies stuck against my wrist, neck, and fingers, along with red bottom heels.

"This way, Mrs. Ford," the butler addressed, guiding me through the gallery out of my room, down the stairs, through the hall, and finally out of the expensive Villa in one of the richest places in New York City to a Limousine awaiting me.

I silently slid in and inhaled a deep breath as the car began moving.

Within forty minutes, I reached one of the most expensive hotels, and the moment I stepped out of the car, the continuous splashing camera flashes made me lower my gaze.

I tried my best to maintain my style, not to destroy the important day for him, because then he would destroy another month of mine.

Divorce?

I think of it a million times every day. Our marriage was a contract one with a no-divorce clause. None of us could leave each other until the interested party paid a billion dollars to the other.

And in no dreams of mine could I afford a Billion Dollars.

All of it was leaving me with just one option.

Angling my face a little, I noticed the height of the building. It had around sixty floors. Falling down would mean no chance of getting under him again.

Without wasting any moment, I stepped forward and entered the terrace after taking the lift. Every person there knew who I was beneath this dress.

I was nothing but a whore to the old pigs. A girl no one could ever dream of sleeping with these kinds of men.

Gulping nervously, I walked toward my husband and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Happy birthday, love," my words were a mere formality.

"Oh, my dear!" he chuckled, hugging me and squeezing my hips. I sucked a breath in.

"You look stunning," he exclaimed, kissing my lips, and I could not help but close my eyes, kissing him back before whispering to him.

"I need to use the restroom,"

His clenched jaw made it evident that he did not like my words. Ignoring it, I made my way through the puzzle of people and walked out of the party hall to where I could breathe.

The wind was chilly, yet I felt my heart and soul on fire. My body was numb. I could not feel any emotion. I wanted to give up on trying, on fighting. I wanted to finally be alive.

And the way was to try in my next life.

Standing before the railing, I gazed down at the busy road. The catchy lights of the nightlife looked so elegant and classy, yet no one knew the truth behind the closed doors and heavy money.

The men were getting richer only to buy weaker women.

We had advanced to the twenty-first century, yet the saga remained unchanged. A man with power abuses a woman with misfortune.

"Vivian," suddenly, a familiar voice made me turn around, and my sight fell on Selene.

"Hi," a wide smile appeared on my face as I remembered my University best friend.

She immediately tip-ran to pull me into a tight hug.

"Where did you disappear suddenly?" she asked, and I did not know how to tell her.

"I get to know that you married Glen Ford. Sugar Daddy? Hehe," her words made me chuckle embarrassedly, and I did not know what to say.

"Well," she said, and I followed her to notice her watching my husband.

"It must be really difficult with him," she said, and I gulped, shaking my head.

She did not know anything. And I did not even know how to speak about it. After all, why hang upon a single piece of hope when all of it was just going to end today?

"Do you love him?" she asked, and now I could not stop looking up into her eyes.

"Love?"

"Girl," she stepped closer, putting her champagne glass on the railing and holding my hand.

"I understand this, but don't you think you should also have love? I mean, what would this fat pig even do to you?" her words almost brought tears to my eyes.

"He is my husband," I tried to say, and she thinned her gaze.

"So? He is already out of the limit by marrying a girl so young as you. How can you even justify it?" her words made me really comfortable.

Suddenly, she sucked in a deep breath and said. "By the way, I have to go. My brother must be waiting for you. And, you should meet this guy," handing me a black card.

I gulped, noticing a name written on it with gold. 'Damien' There was nothing else, even on the backside.

"Meet this guy. You will love what he will do to you," her words thinned my gaze, and I shook my head.

"I do not understand," I exclaimed.

She smiled, stepping closer, and leaned to whisper into my ear.

"Live the life, Vivian. Enjoy it a bit. A single night with him is all you want,"

I gazed sharply at the card and handed it back to her.

"No, no, I do not need any of this," I said and looked at the people at the party.

My husband would shoot me right into my brain if I would ever slip out of his hold.

She clicked her tongue. "Trust me, you need this," she said and handed it back to me.

But, there was not an even number on it.

And, before I could say it, she went away from there.

What did it all mean?

We had not talked for a while. I just talked to her for about three months in college and suddenly ran into her. Although she is a celebrity now, she always stays in the media highlights as well.

Still, that did not mean she would hand me this.

I looked at the card closer and noticed black paint on it. My brows knit in confusion, and I scratched it off with my nail. I saw 'Suite 507, Hotel Orchid'; a soft gasp escaped my lips.

What?

A hotel room?

A night with a strange man in a hotel room?

No, suicide was better.