Chapter 1
For five years of marriage, every time I accidentally brushed against my husband’s skin, he forced me to kneel in disinfectant and recite passages from Conduct Books for Women.
Then one day, I spotted a red mark on his collarbone–faint, but unmistakably intimate. Instinctively I reached out and touched it.
He flew into a rage and slammed the door on his way out, but for the first time, he didn’t punish me.
I naively thought he was finally beginning to warm up to my touch.
The next day, my “first night” was listed for auction at a high–society charity gala hosted at Montclair Auction Hall–an exclusive event reserved for billionaires and legacy families. The bidding would begin in two days.
Brandon Westwood’s friends were already joking about how much they’d bid, while he sterilized his hands obsessively, muttering
under his breath:
“She touched the same spot Clarissa kissed. Does she really think she’s worth anything? Just looking at her makes me skin crawl.”
“Clarissa just got back from vacation–Bran waited so long for that kiss. And Valerie went and ruined it. What a disgusting, shameless
woman.”
Brandon sneered coldly.
“Punishment? No one touched her in five years–she’s probably desperate for some rich guy to buy her out. Starving for attention like a
stray mutt.”
The room erupted in laughter.
“Clarissa’s allergic to whatever she reeks of–gets nauseous just from the scent. Poor Bran has to disinfect himself every time she gets
near him. Valerie probably thinks she’s literally contaminated, ha!”
“This auction’s doing her a favor–finally gives her a shot at being a real woman. She ought to be gratefull!”
Their mockery thundered thro‘ the room like a storm. My face went cold.
It felt a high–society charity gala hosted at Montclair Auction Hall—an exclusive event reserved for billionaires and legacy families. The bidding would begin in two days..
Brandon recoiled from every accidental touch like I was a disease.
Eventually, I began to believe it–I thought I was infected, that something was wrong with me. I soaked in disinfectant baths every night.
Over time, my skin was ruined- so sensitive that even a breeze could break me out in welts.
He even split our master bedroom, replacing the shared bed with two singles, just to avoid “catching” something from me.
I snapped and demanded answers. He finally threw a medical form in my face.
“I have severe OCD. Don’t touch me. Not even a single hair.”
But now I understood. The disgust, the revulsion–all because of one woman: Clarissa Monroe.
A single word from her-“gross,” “allergic“-was enough to condemn me.
We were bound by a family arrangement, promised to each other since childhood.
As we grew up, the engagement faded into the background. Everyone assumed we’d choose our own paths.
But Brandon’s grandmother was old–fashioned and ailing. She insisted we honor the agreement, said tradition must be respected..
She knew full well that Brandon loved Clarissa. I had a boyfriend too. None of that mattered. She forced the marriage through, and
neither of us had a choice.
Chapter 1
Still, she offered me a sliver of hope:
“I truly hope you two make it. But if ever Brandon betrays you, I’ll bring the annulment papers myself. Signed, sealed, and final. I’ll make sure you walk free.”
On our wedding night, he locked me out of the bedroom.
I thought he just needed time to come around, so I tolerated his “condition.” I gave him space, patience, understanding.
I gave him five years. Five years of silence, humiliation, and blind obedience–and this was the truth I got in return.
I dialed Grandma Westwood’s number, my voice hollow and dead:
“The auction in two days… that’s proof enough. Brandon’s betrayed me. Please… let me go.”
11
