At first, I thought Bryant only wanted control. But then, I noticed the way his eyes darkened whenever another man so much as looked at me. The jealousy. The anger. The obsession.
The breaking point came when he introduced me to the world as Mrs. Geoffanie Harlow.
That night, I saw his true nature.
We were at a gala—another event where I had to smile and play the role of the perfect wife. I was used to being stared at; I had once been a beauty queen, after all. But I didn’t expect Bryant to take it so… personally.
He saw every glance, every lingering look from businessmen and socialites alike. And he hated it.
"You enjoy the attention, don’t you?" His voice was low, dangerous, as he pinned me against the wall of our bedroom later that night.
I swallowed hard. "Bryant, you’re overreacting."
His jaw clenched. "Am I?"
That’s when I knew—I needed to understand exactly who I had married.
And so, I followed him.
That night, when Bryant left the house, I hid in the backseat of his car. My heart pounded as the vehicle moved, the city lights flashing through the tinted windows.
After nearly an hour, we arrived at a warehouse.
Bryant stepped out, his movements calculated and confident. I waited a few seconds before slipping out, keeping to the shadows.
And then, I saw it.
A man—a reporter.
I recognized him instantly. He had been at the gala earlier, staring at me a little too long.
Now, he was on the ground, bloodied and beaten.
Bryant’s men stood around him, mercilessly landing blow after blow.
My stomach churned.
This was about me.
This man was being tortured because he had dared to look at me.
I couldn’t stay silent.
"Stop!" My voice echoed through the warehouse as I stepped forward. "Bryant, stop this!"
The men froze, their fists mid-air.
Bryant turned slowly. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something terrifying. "What the hell are you doing here, Geoffanie?"
My breathing was ragged. "You… you can’t do this."
His jaw twitched. "Go back to the car."
I shook my head. "Not until you stop this."
His patience snapped. "You think I’ll let another man look at what’s mine?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. "You think I’ll let them admire you like some prize?"
Before I could reply, a sharp, searing pain tore through my abdomen.
I gasped, clutching my stomach.
Bryant’s expression changed instantly. "Geoffanie?"
A wave of nausea hit me. The pain was unbearable.