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I Donated My Eye to the Man Who Betrayed Me Novel Cover

I Donated My Eye to the Man Who Betrayed Me

The cathedral's soaring arches had never felt more suffocating. I stood at the altar in my custom Vera Wang gown, the delicate lace catching the light that streamed through stained glass windows. Five hundred of Manhattan's elite filled the pews behind me, their whispers barely audible beneath the string quartet's rendition of Pachelbel's Canon. "Are you ready?" Benedict whispered, his fingers warm against mine. His eyes—my eyes, really, since I'd donated my cornea anonymously to save his sight—sparkled with what I thought was love. I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Five years of devotion, of helping him rebuild his Wall Street empire from nothing after the accident that had taken his sight. Five years of believing we were building something unbreakable. "I love you," I whispered back, the words carrying all my hopes for our future. The minister smiled benevolently.
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Chapter 3

I couldn't stay another minute in this house of lies. The mansion that was supposed to be our home had become my prison, and I was done being Benedict's prisoner.

My hands trembled as I zipped up my suitcase. Five years of memories—photos, gifts, the silk robe he'd given me after his sight returned—all left behind. I wouldn't need reminders of what we'd once had. The scars would be enough.

"Car's waiting outside, Miss Rose," my driver's voice came through the phone, his tone carefully neutral. He'd been with my family for years and had probably heard about the wedding disaster by now.

I wheeled my suitcase down the grand staircase, the sound echoing through the empty foyer. The staff had all been given the day off—Benedict's attempt to give Lexi and her "son" privacy. Privacy to continue their charade.

The massive oak doors loomed ahead, freedom just beyond them. I reached for the handle, my fingers closing around the cool brass.

"Going somewhere?"

Benedict's voice sliced through the silence. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, his expression dark and possessive. I hadn't heard him approach.

"I'm leaving," I said simply, turning back to the door. "There's nothing for me here anymore."

His hand shot out, gripping my arm with bruising force. "You're not going anywhere."

Pain shot through my shoulder, but I refused to wince. "Let go of me, Benedict."

"You belong here," he growled, his fingers tightening. "You belong to my empire. To everything we built."

"I don't belong to anyone." I tried to pull away, but his grip only intensified. "Especially not to someone who abandoned me at the altar."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "I had business to attend to."

"Business?" I laughed bitterly. "Is that what you call running off with your ex-lover?"

The front door swung open suddenly, flooding the foyer with sunlight. Zev Mills stood silhouetted against the light, his expression calm but determined.

"Elise," he said softly, stepping inside. "I came to retrieve the wedding gift I left in the library."

Benedict's grip loosened slightly, confusion crossing his features. "Zev? What are you doing here?"

"Like I said." Zev's eyes never left mine as he moved toward us. "I left something behind."

In one fluid motion, he stepped between us, breaking Benedict's hold on my arm. His hand found the small of my back, steady and warm.

"Actually," Zev continued, his voice low and controlled, "I think Elise was just leaving."

Benedict's face darkened. "This doesn't concern you, Mills."

"I think it does." Zev's tone remained even, but there was steel underneath. "Elise needs a safe place to stay, and I'm offering my help."

I felt a surge of gratitude toward this man who had always been in the background of our social circle. Quiet, dependable Zev who had never demanded anything from me.

"Thank you," I whispered.

---

The hotel suite was quiet except for the occasional honk of traffic from the street below. I sat on the edge of the bed, still processing everything that had happened.

My phone rang—Benedict's name flashing on the screen. Against my better judgment, I answered.

"What the hell did you do?" His voice was ice cold, controlled fury vibrating through each syllable.

"What are you talking about?"

"Lexi is in tears. Her room is trashed. She has scratches all over her arms."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"Don't play innocent, Elise. She told me everything. You hired thugs to intimidate her."

"That's insane! I haven't—"

"First you humiliate her by making her serve you, now this?" His voice rose, the control slipping. "I trusted you. I gave you everything."

"You gave me nothing but lies!" I shouted back, my own control fracturing. "You abandoned me at our wedding!"

"Because she needed me! Because you're selfish and vindictive and—"

"Stop." The word came out quieter than I intended, but it cut through his tirade like a blade. "Just stop."

Silence stretched between us.

"I'm freezing your company shares," he finally said, his voice deadly calm. "You'll regret this, Elise."

The line went dead.

---

The café was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, far from the usual haunts of Manhattan's elite. Zev sat across from me, a manila folder placed carefully on the table between us.

"How did you know?" I asked, wrapping my hands around my coffee cup. "About Lexi's room?"

"I didn't." Zev's eyes were kind but serious. "But I've been watching her for weeks now."

He slid the folder toward me. "Open it."

Inside were photographs, documents, and reports—all meticulously organized. My hands trembled as I leafed through them.

"The boy isn't hers," Zev said quietly. "She purchased him through a trafficking ring in Nevada. The 'gambling debts' are fabricated—she's been working with offshore accounts to siphon money from Benedict."

"Why?" The question came out as barely a whisper.

"Because she knows what he's worth to you." Zev reached across the table, his fingers gently covering mine. "And because she knows you're worth fighting for."

I looked up at him, really looked at him for perhaps the first time. There was something in his eyes—something that had been there for years, if I'd only noticed.

"Ten years," he said softly. "I've loved you for ten years, Elise."

My breath caught in my throat.

"But that's not why I'm showing you this." His grip tightened slightly. "I just want you safe. I don't want to control you—I want to protect you."

The words hung between us, honest and unguarded. And for the first time since the cathedral doors crashed open, I felt something other than despair.

Hope.

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