His Cruel and Twisted Atonement

In the second year of my marriage to Griffin Lockwood, he brought a young model home.

He shot explicit, intimate photos of her, right in our living room.

Griffin casually mocked me, suggesting I should try to enjoy life the way he did.

He was testing me, tormenting me.

But he didn't know that this time, I was genuinely tempted.

Later, when Griffin saw the one-of-a-kind silver bracelet I had personally designed on another man's wrist, his eyes turned scarlet with rage.

"Cora Hayes," he growled, "who gave you the nerve to actually follow through?"

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1

The moment I stepped through the door, camera flashes strobed from the living room.

I slipped off my coat, draped it over my arm, and hesitated.

My heart heavy, I forced myself toward the piercing light.

Pushing open the half-closed door, I saw Griffin in an instant.

His custom-tailored shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest.

A young model straddled his lap, wearing one of my early jewelry designs.

Though he was merely adjusting the camera angle, the smug satisfaction on his face was unmistakable.

Hearing my footsteps, the young model turned her head with a smile.

"Oh, Griffy, is the butler bringing the wine—"

Her words caught in her throat, the smile freezing on her lips.

When she saw me, her face turned pale, and she stammered,

"Mrs... Mrs. Hayes..."

My gaze fell on the necklace around her neck, an immature design from my university days.

My throat tightened. "Griffin, what are you doing?" My voice came out as a raw whisper.

He glanced up, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

His long, slender fingers combed through the model's blonde hair.

"Isn't it obvious? What a stupid question."

Griffin, still holding the model, lazily sized me up.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"But really, Cora, you should learn a thing or two from these young people."

"You're always as stiff and uptight as a nun."

"So repressed. So boring."

I had known Griffin Lockwood for eighteen years, and he'd resented me for every single one of them.

When I was seven, my mother embezzled a major trust fund belonging to his family.

Two years later, she absconded with the money, leaving me behind like an afterthought.

I offered to go to a boarding school, but Griffin firmly refused.

His eyes were bloodshot as he gripped my arm, his fingers nearly crushing the bone.

"Don't even think about it, Cora. You're staying by my side for the rest of your life to pay for your mother's sins."

I nodded, thinking all he needed was for me to remain—a living reminder—until his anger was sated.

I never expected he would marry me the day I graduated from college.

When his father, Arthur, learned of our marriage, he was furious.

Once he’d calmed down, he pulled me aside, his voice almost a plea.

"Cora, Griffin was wrong, but please don't hold it against him."

Arthur paused, then urged me,

"Since you're married now, try to make it work."

"Cora, please, give the Lockwood family an heir."

He delivered his final words with such gravity that I asked in confusion,

"Arthur, will having a child clear the debt?"

He froze, then covered his eyes, unable to look at me.

His voice choked.

"Of course... I'm so sorry, Cora."

On our wedding night, I reached out, my hand landing on the buttons of Griffin's shirt.