Chapter Five

O ur anniversary is just days away, and yet I can't shake this suffocating emptiness that has replaced the joy I once felt for Amir. Nine years of marriage, and I can already see the cracks forming, the foundation of our love crumbling beneath us.

Amir Rowan, my husband, a celebrated figure in the art world, inherited his grandfather's grand mansion, and I, in my naivety, followed him to this desolate place called Willow Crest. I left behind my career as a corporate engineer, my friends, my family—all for him. He was my everything, but now I feel like a ghost in my own life.

When we confronted the rumors surrounding us, I never imagined it would expose the rot festering in our relationship. My tears that day didn’t stop Ro from seeking out Willow, the new tenant of that eerie mansion by the lake.

People say it’s haunted, cursed even, a place where a girl once murdered her lover. I never bought into those tales; they were just stories, nothing more. But Willow, she arrived last summer and was met with nothing but disdain. In a town where smiles are abundant, she was an outcast, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what I’m becoming too.

This town has its rules—fall in love, get engaged, but for the love of all that’s holy, don’t get married here. And if you dare to associate with anyone from the Willow Mansion, you’re marked for life. It’s a curse, they say, and I can feel it tightening around me, suffocating the last remnants of hope I had for my marriage.

It’s infuriating how the townsfolk, especially the older generation, cling to their ridiculous beliefs. But I can’t stand that eerie place or that girl who shows up every single day with flowers and cake for my husband. What’s even more maddening is that my Ro has never turned her away. Not once, even when his friends warned him about her.

“You need to confront him. This can’t go on,” Darius growled, clearly disgusted by Ro’s association with that girl, Willow.

“And what do you expect me to do? Hand me the wrench... Ro is passionate about his work, and she’s paying him just as much as he gets from galleries and auctions.”

Frustration doesn’t even begin to cover it. My heart is shattered, but defending my husband’s interests is instinctual.

“It doesn’t work that way. The townspeople can be vicious, and the rumors about him visiting her mansion... it’s unacceptable. Don’t you want to ask your husband why he feels the need to go to her house?”

Darius sounded more like a concerned spouse than I did.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. The absurdity of him acting like a protective friend was comical, especially for a bulky biker president who usually exuded toughness.

“Your bike is fixed.” I waved the wrench at him, and a low, disappointed growl escaped his lips.

Of course, he was unhappy. So was I, but some things are just beyond our control. We can’t stop Ro from pursuing his passion and making his own choices.

“Fine. But…” Darius glanced around and stepped closer to me, closing the already small gap between us.

I swallowed hard, suddenly self-conscious about how I looked.

It wasn’t that working in a mechanic shop was supposed to make me look good; it was a cruel joke. My brown hair was a greasy mess, shoved into a chaotic bun, while my fair skin was smeared with oil and grime from the cars and the bike I had been wrestling with all day. My jumper? A disaster zone of every substance I had encountered.

I felt utterly ashamed of my appearance, especially standing next to Darius, a towering figure of brooding masculinity. At 5'3 and a half, I felt like a mere shadow beside him, a tiny creature dwarfed by his presence. He could grace the cover of any fashion magazine, while I felt like a walking catastrophe.

I instinctively took a step back, but Darius wasn’t about to let me escape. He gripped my shoulder, anchoring me in place, and leaned in close, sending a jolt of fear through my veins.

His intentions were clear: they had nothing to do with my well-being.

“Listen closely. I need you to bring Amir to the club tonight and play a little game for me. It’s crucial for both of us,” he said, his gaze piercing through me.

I nodded, feeling more like a pawn than a person, compelled by his command rather than my own desires.

“Good.” His smile was predatory as he sidestepped me, inspecting his bike, the roar of the engine bringing him a twisted joy, like a child with a new toy.

But I couldn’t afford to dwell on him. The weight of the day had nearly erased his request from my mind until I got home and found Ro sprawled on the bed, lost in the game on TV.

I seized the moment to dash into the shower. Emerging in a mini cocktail dress that clung to my curves, I felt a surge of confidence.

“Ro!” I called out, breaking his trance.

He blinked, finally noticing me. “Are we going somewhere?” His eyes roamed over my outfit.

I shrugged, biting my smile, and tried hiding my blush. It was hard.

“Someone’s dressed to impress,” he said with a grin, whistling, and suddenly, I felt like I could conquer the world.

I swayed my hips in a sultry dance, moving closer, and crawled onto our bed, straddling him with a daring flair. His hands instinctively found my waist, giving it a gentle squeeze that sent shivers down my spine.

In that intoxicating moment, I leaned in for a kiss, but suddenly froze. I watched as he pulled back, resisting my touch, and it felt so... strange.

That unexpected shift dampened my boldness, and the confident woman I was just moments ago seemed to vanish. He studied my face with a serious expression, swallowing hard as I forced a smile and pulled away.

"I didn’t mean to, Mrs. Rowan," he said, clearing his throat as we stepped out of our room.

The lump in my throat grew heavier. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting.

Ro used to revel in my advances, appreciating when I shed my shyness to take charge. Sure, it never ended well for me—he always overpowered me—but the joy he found in my attempts was pure bliss.

He was a towering man, muscles rippling beneath his skin, standing at 6'2". Those mesmerizing baby blue eyes made my heart race, and his ghostly pale skin was a rarity that drove me wild. The way his nerves danced under his skin was my ultimate weakness.

He was my man, the one who showered me with love both in and out of our bed, who made me feel beautiful in those captivating blues. I used to feel that way.

"Mrs. Rowan!" He grabbed my arm, pulling me against him, my back glued to his solid frame, his arms trapping me, holding me close.

I struggled to break free, but he just wouldn’t let go.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, and a pathetic whimper escaped me.

I loathed my body for craving his touch, for obeying his every command. It infuriated me how effortlessly he could manipulate me just by being there, and yet, I was left alone, abandoned in my need for him.

I failed to make his affection mine alone.

I failed to secure my forever with the one man who meant everything to me.

"I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere." His deep voice cut through the chaos in my head, and I swallowed hard.

"It's fine..." I lied through clenched teeth. I was far from fine, but he knew better than to push me when I was on the edge. Another conversation would only dig the knife deeper.

"We'll talk when we get back from wherever this is," he said flatly, his authoritative tone leaving no room for argument, and I couldn’t even muster the strength to refuse.

I slipped from his loose grip, put on my heels, and turned to face him. Those baby blues I craved, the very features I wanted in our child.

I wanted to get pregnant, but with his job and my schedule, finding time to discuss a child felt impossible.

Now it seemed pointless. No need for a conversation.

"I never said we were going anywhere together." A petty way to express my anger, but whatever.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking, and grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the house. Who needs to lock up anyway, right?!

No.

"At least turn on the security system before we leave," I snapped, and he rolled his eyes, still complying with my request.

Sure, our house was rigged with a digital security system, but that didn’t mean I was going to let my guard down! Better safe than sorry, right?

Sitting in the passenger seat of his Jeep, I watched him tap his fingers on the wheel like he was some kind of genius.

"Where to?" he asked, all smug.

I clenched my jaw and spat out that Darius invited us to the bar tonight. His grin was infuriating as he mumbled about how I was the one who said we shouldn’t be leaving together.

What a jerk.