The CEO’s Disabled Wife is no Longer Yours

Chapter 3

Julian didn't know I had heard him. That was the only advantage I had left in this world.

The morning after I found out, he was back to being the perfect, doting husband. He came into the bedroom with a tray of fresh coffee and pastries, his smile as warm and inviting as it had been on our wedding day.

"I thought we could go for a drive today," he said, setting the tray down on my lap. "The doctor said getting you out of the house is crucial for your recovery. The fresh air will do us both good."

I looked up at him, forcing my expression to stay soft, vulnerable, and grateful. "I’d like that, Julian. I’ve felt so cooped up lately."

He reached out and smoothed a hand over my hair, his touch lingering. "I know. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

Every word out of his mouth was a calculated lie, and knowing that made my skin crawl. Yet, I had to lean into it. I had to be the wife he wanted me to be; broken, dependent, and completely oblivious.

If he realized I knew, the accident that crippled me would look like a minor inconvenience compared to what he would do to ensure my silence.

He feed me and I kept trying hard not to throw up. How can his mask not fall.

How can he cripple a human because he couldn’t let the love of his life leave the city? He wanted her close, I thought I was the one he wanted.

But I’m realizing I thought wrong, and I’m also heavily realizing that I may have chose the wrong brother. The worst of them.

He carried me to the car, his movements practiced and gentle. He strapped me into the passenger seat, the same seat where the life I knew had been violently stolen from me.

We drove out to the countryside, the landscape blurring past the windows. Julian played our favorite playlist, the one we used to listen to when we were first dating.

He held my hand the entire time, his thumb tracing soft, rhythmic circles against my knuckles. I’m holding back myself from pulling my hands free.

"Remember this?" he asked, nodding toward the music.

"We listened to this on our first trip to the coast."

"I remember," I whispered.

I watched him. I watched the way he laughed at a joke on the radio, the way he navigated the steering wheel with effortless ease, the same hands that had steered us into that concrete median to ‘ground’ me.

He was playing the part so well that he almost seemed to believe it himself. He was a master of his own reality, a monster wrapped in the skin of a perfect man. He wears it so well, that I’m trying to convince myself this is probably a dream.

When we stopped at a beautiful lakefront park, he pulled my wheelchair from the trunk and set it up. He pushed me along the paved path, stopping occasionally to point out the ducks or the way the light hit the trees.

"It’s peaceful here, isn't it?" he asked, coming around to kneel in front of my chair.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying, hollow devotion. He reached out to adjust the blanket over my legs, his hands lingering near the scars he had created.

"I’m going to make sure you have everything you need," he promised, his voice low and intense. "I know this has been hard, Clara. But we’re going to get through this. Together."

I felt the bile rising in my throat, but I managed a small, sad smile. "Thank you, Julian. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't ever have to worry about that," he said, standing up and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to my lips.

I kept my eyes closed, forcing myself to kiss him back. I had to endure this. I had to endure the touch, the lies, and the crushing weight of his care.

I was a prisoner in a golden cage, and the jailer was the only person I was allowed to talk to.

As he turned back to push the chair, I looked out over the water holding back tears, my heart screaming.

I was trapped, broken, and completely at his mercy, but for now, the only way I’m going to survive this, was to keep playing his game until I could find a way to destroy him.