The Blind Wife Who Sees Everything

When Ava came out of the bathroom, Blake was waiting on the sofa.

He stood, pulled her into his arms, tucked her into bed, and held her tight.

"Ava, what's wrong today? Did something happen at the hospital? If anything is upsetting you, you have to tell me. I'll always be here for you."

Fearing he might call Dr. Albright, Ava answered vaguely, "It's nothing. I probably just didn't sleep well."

Just then, his phone lit up.

He made no attempt to hide it, tapping the screen right in front of her. A photo popped up—sent by someone named Sienna. The woman in the picture wore a sexy bikini, standing by a pool with a hazy gaze and slightly parted lips.

Sienna: [Darling, I'm waiting for you by the pool.]

Blake's breath hitched, and the corners of his mouth lifted involuntarily.

Blake: [I'll be down as soon as Ava's asleep.]

Sienna: [Come now! She's blind; she can't even get down the stairs without help. I miss you.]

Blake locked the screen and pressed a kiss to Ava's forehead.

"Something came up at the office," he whispered. "I'm going to the study for a bit. Don't wait up."

Then he left in a hurry.

Ava lay quietly, staring at the stark white ceiling.

Perhaps, deep down, Blake had long accepted that her eyes would never heal. That was why he no longer bothered to hide anything, why he dared to be so brazen, so shameless.

She sat up and silently made her way downstairs.

The living room was empty. From Sienna's guest room came the soft sounds of a man and woman laughing.

"Sienna, are you crazy? Ava isn't even asleep yet, and you're already trying to seduce me?"

"But you still came."

The door was ajar. Through the crack, Ava saw them tangled together in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. The room was decorated in soft pink tones, stylish and lived-in. He must have been setting this room up for her for at least a year.

So, this happy little family she thought she had…

There had always been a fourth person.

Blake had housed his wife and mistress under one roof. The first half of the night belonged to Ava, and in the second, he would sneak downstairs—to his "real" home? To Sienna?

It must have been thrilling.

Ava covered her mouth, suppressing a scream that clawed at her throat. She spun around and bumped right into the night-shift maid.

"Mrs. Sutton? Why are you downstairs?"

Before she could answer, the bedroom door flew open. Blake stumbled out, shirt half-open, hair disheveled, panic etched on his face.

Sienna followed, her arms wrapped around his waist, hands roaming freely over his body.

Blake pushed her back into the room and hurried over.

"Ava, did you… did you hear anything just now?"

Ava clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. The sharp pain was the only thing stopping her from slapping him.

"No," she said calmly. "I was thirsty and came down for some water."

Blake was visibly relieved. "I left a glass of water for you on the nightstand. Why did you come down by yourself? It's too dangerous."

He fussed over her, helping her back to the bedroom as if nothing had happened.

After a while, he called out softly, "Ava?"

She didn't respond.

Thinking she was asleep, he stood up.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open again.

His voice was hushed, but she still heard him.

"What are you doing up here? Go back downstairs."

Then came Sienna's coquettish reply, "You left me hanging earlier… so I had to come find you, darling."

A pause, then the rustle of clothing, followed by Blake's low, strained voice.

"Get in the dressing room."

"No," she said. "Right here. She's blind; she can't see a thing. Isn't this more exciting?"

The only response was his heavy, ragged breathing.

In the darkness, two bodies stumbled into her dressing room, limbs already tangled as they fell against the wall.

Ava lay quietly, her eyes wide open. Tears slid silently down her temples as she bit her lip to stifle a sob.

In the silent darkness of the night, she saw everything.

Before pulling the covers over her head, her gaze fell on the glass of water Blake had left on her nightstand.

The water was ice-cold, a chilling match for the numbness that had claimed her heart.

In the crushing silence, she made a vow. Blake, she thought, her promise a shard of ice in the dark. I will make your life a living hell.