“So I brought her here. She’ll serve you. Keep atoning for what she did.”
My stomach twisted.
He kept going like this made sense.
“I even talked to a psychologist,” he added. “You’ve been under pressure lately. Facing her, having her around… it might actually help you heal. Trust me, Danica. Everything I’m doing… it’s because I love you.”
Love.
He said it so easily.
And the worst part?
He looked sincere.
The same face he had seven years ago when he got down on one knee and promised me I’d never suffer again.
Now he was the one breaking me.
Again and again.
What was the difference between this and pouring salt into an open wound?
I thought I’d break.
I thought I’d scream at him, refuse, fight back.
But I didn’t.
There was nothing left in me.
Just… empty.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll do what you want.”
Even if he made her the mistress of this house… I wouldn’t care.
Because I was leaving anyway.
Soon.
For the rest of the day, Shannon acted like the perfect maid. Cleaning, moving quietly, keeping her head down. Felix didn’t even look at her once. He stayed by my side the whole time, like she didn’t exist.
That night, he handed me a glass of milk.