Chapter 4

Esme stepped inside the house while Isaiah stayed outside to park the car. She froze at the sight of Audrey lounging on the couch in a silk nightgown, munching on snacks and watching TV. Feigning casualness, Esme asked, "Didn't you say you had a mixer tonight and wouldn't be home?" Audrey smiled coyly, lowering her gaze as if shy. "Oh, Esme, I totally forgot to tell you. I actually fought with my boyfriend, so I went to the mixer just to piss him off. But, guess what? The moment I got there, he showed up, furious, and dragged me out." Audrey leaned forward, pulling down her neckline to reveal faint marks scattered across her skin. She threw Esme a sly glance. She added, "I never thought he'd be that jealous. He got so worked up, we ended up going at it three times in his car." Esme clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms, the pain barely keeping her grounded. She forced a deep breath. "A boyfriend? You've never mentioned him before. When did this start?" Audrey tilted her head as if pondering, then replied nonchalantly, "About three months ago." Three months was the exact time Audrey had moved into the Jabs residence, supposedly because Isaiah's friend had asked him to look out for his younger sister. It became clear—Audrey had been involved with Isaiah since day one. Esme's chest tightened, but before she could say more, a warm, familiar hand landed on her shoulder. Isaiah's voice was gentle as he walked in. "Essie, you've had a long day. Let me run you a bath so you can relax, okay?" Before she could protest, he ushered her toward the bathroom. ... Esme was about to undress when she realized she had forgotten to bring fresh clothes. She opened the door, only to see something that made her blood run cold. Isaiah was on the couch, pinning Audrey down as he tugged impatiently at her nightgown. His lips trailed down her neck to her collarbone, his hands gripping her waist tightly. Audrey's voice rose in breathy gasps. "Isaiah, slower! Esme's just in the bathroom. Didn't you get enough earlier in the car?" His grip tightened, and he growled, "Shut up. If you dare see another man again, I'll—" Audrey smirked, her eyes suddenly flicking to Esme standing frozen at the door. With a sly, mocking smile, she tilted her head back, whispering seductively, "Alright, alright. I'm all yours, you jealous maniac." Esme could not bear to watch anymore. She snatched up her clothes and slammed the bathroom door shut. Inside, she sank into the warm bathwater, but her mind was stuck on the scene she had just witnessed. The betrayal was suffocating. Memories of their honeymoon flooded back—the way Isaiah had once been just as obsessed with her. Five years ago, on their honeymoon trip to a tropical island, she glanced at a shirtless man on the beach. Isaiah had dragged her back to their suite, seething with jealousy. He did not let her step out for the rest of the week, claiming her as his over and over again until their bed broke. At the time, his possessiveness had seemed romantic. "Essie, don't look at anyone else. Don't ever leave me," he pleaded tearfully. His words had melted her heart. Now, it only felt cruel. Esme emerged from the water hours later, her skin wrinkled and her resolve hardening. When she returned to the bedroom, Isaiah was there alone. On the table beside him were a plate of freshly sliced fruit and a steaming cup of tea. He lit up when he saw her and handed her the cup with a sheepish smile. He said, "I calculated your cycle. Your period's coming up soon, right? I made you some tea to ease the cramps—you'll feel better after drinking it." Esme accepted the cup, staring at the rising steam, but it brought her no comfort. How could he pretend to care so much, moments after being with someone else? The weight of his façade pressed heavily on her, and it lingered through the night. When she finally began to doze off, Isaiah suddenly shouted in his sleep, "Essie!" He bolted upright, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His hands fumbled in the dark until they found her, and he pulled her into his arms, shaking. "Essie, don't leave me," he begged, his voice cracking. "I had a nightmare. You left me, and I—" His words broke off, and he buried his face in her hair. "Thank God you're still here." Esme lay stiffly in his arms, her mind screaming the truth she could not utter aloud, "Soon, I'll be away from you." ... The next morning, Isaiah insisted she accompany him to work. Esme tried to decline, but his pleading wore her down, and she reluctantly agreed. At his office, Esme noticed framed photos of herself scattered across his desk. He slid his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck. "You see these? Some women here don't know boundaries. Putting your pictures up stops them from getting any ideas. Don't worry. Your husband's loyal to you." Esme smiled faintly, though she said nothing. She could not find the right words to speak. Moments later, his assistant knocked to remind him of an upcoming meeting. Isaiah reluctantly let her go, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before leaving. Alone, Esme wandered aimlessly around the building, hoping to kill time. By midday, her phone buzzed. The caller ID read "Immigration Office". "Ms. Shepherd, we need you to come in to sign the final paperwork for your immigration application," the voice said. Esme's lips parted to respond, but before she could, a cold, familiar voice interrupted her from behind. "What immigration?"