Breaking Free from Servitude

I couldn't sleep that night. Franklin's hands, his breath, his words—they followed me into darkness. By morning, my fear had crystallized into something harder, sharper.

I found Sullivan in his home office, reviewing contracts with the same detached efficiency he brought to everything except our marriage.

"We need to talk about last night," I said, closing the door behind me.

He didn't look up. "What about it?"

"Franklin was inappropriate. He cornered me in the kitchen." My voice trembled slightly. "You knew what he wanted when you sent me there."

Sullivan's pen stilled. "He's our best chance at saving the company."

"At what cost?" I stepped closer, my hands clenched at my sides. "You heard how he spoke to me. You saw how he touched me."

Finally, he looked up, his eyes cold. "And?"

"And you did nothing." The words hung between us, dangerous and irretrievable.

Something shifted in Sullivan's expression—a crack in his carefully maintained control. He stood slowly, his chair rolling backward.

"What exactly should I have done, Eden?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Lost the deal? Let my company fail? All because you're too sensitive for a little harmless flirting?"

"It wasn't harmless." I took a step back as he moved toward me. "It was humiliating."

"Humiliating?" Sullivan's laugh was sharp, cutting. "Let me tell you what's humiliating. Watching my wife act like a prude when I've given her everything."

He backed me against the wall, his hands slamming against the plaster on either side of my head. I flinched at the impact.

"Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed for you?" His face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. "I gave you my kidney. My kidney, Eden. And this is how you repay me? By being ungrateful and dramatic?"

"I'm not being dramatic—"

"Every expense I've covered!" He was shouting now, spittle flying from his lips. "Every bill I've paid! Every time I've bailed you out! And now you can't handle one business dinner?"

His words pounded against me like physical blows. I pressed myself against the wall, wishing I could disappear into it.

"You owe me," he snarled, his finger jabbing at my chest. "You owe me everything."

---

Valery's first visit came three days later.

I heard the key in the lock—Sullivan's key, the one he'd given her—and froze in the middle of preparing lunch. She swept in like she owned the place, her pregnant belly leading the way.

"Sullivan's at work," I said, setting down my knife.

"I know." She smiled, running her fingers along our kitchen counter. "I just thought I'd stop by to... freshen things up."

I watched helplessly as she moved through our home, rearranging my carefully placed objects. She paused at the living room mantel, studying the framed photos.

"These are so outdated," she murmured, removing a picture of Sullivan and me on our wedding day. She replaced it with one of herself and Sullivan at a gala, her hand resting possessively on her belly.

"Valery, please—"

"What?" She turned, one eyebrow arched. "Sullivan said I could make myself at home."

Over the next week, she returned again and again. Each time, something new had changed. My books were rearranged. My clothes were moved to different hangers. Small things went missing—only to reappear in different rooms.

One morning, I woke to find my grandmother's silver bracelet on my pillow. The delicate chain had been broken, the clasp bent beyond repair.

"Oh, sorry about that," Valery said when she called later. "I was just admiring it and it slipped."

That afternoon, I found a pregnancy test on my pillow—positive, with Valery's handwriting across it: "He's so excited to meet his son."

---

Whiskers was the only pure thing left in my life.

My cat had been with me since before Sullivan, a small ball of gray fur that had grown into a dignified companion. He slept in sunny spots, purred against my neck when I cried, and never asked for anything but food and affection.

I was in the kitchen when Valery's key turned in the lock again.

"Eden?" she called, her voice sharp. "Are you home?"

"In here," I answered, wiping my hands on a dish towel.

She appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room. Then she froze, staring at the living room window where Whiskers lay stretched out in a patch of sunlight.

"What is that?" Her voice had gone cold.

"My cat, Whiskers." I moved protectively toward him. "He won't bother you."

Valery's face contorted with sudden rage. "A cat? In this house? With my baby?"

"Whiskers is perfectly clean—"

"Cat hair everywhere!" She gestured wildly. "Dander! Litter boxes! Do you have any idea what that could do to my pregnancy?"

I reached for Whiskers, lifting him into my arms. "He stays in my part of the house mostly."

"Well, he needs to go." Valery's eyes narrowed to slits. "Get rid of that filthy animal, Eden. Today."

I clutched Whiskers tighter. "No."

Valery stepped closer, her pregnant belly brushing against me. "Then there will be consequences," she whispered. "For both of you."