He leaned over me, his shadow stretching long and monstrous across the floor, illuminated by the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. "Which ones did you hate the most, hmm? The ones that make you sleep so I can watch you, or the ones that make you crave me so I can use you?"
"Both," I choked out through my tears, the words muffled by the carpet. "I hate them both. Jason, why are you doing this? I’m your wife. Why are you doing this to me?"
He reached down and grabbed my face, his fingers bruising my skin as he forced me to look at him. His touch was suddenly, terrifyingly soft—the way a child might touch a butterfly they’d just pinned to a board. "When will you learn, Sarah? I am never letting you go. You are mine. You are a part of the Vanderbilt estate, just like the art on th
