He Made Me Bark Like a Dog Before Choosing His Mistress

The moment I heard him say "She's probably as stiff as a corpse in bed anyway" to his laughing friends, my world collapsed.

Camden Perry—the one person I thought truly understood me—speaking about me like I was nothing.

I stood frozen, the gift bag slipping from my fingers. The silver bracelet I'd bought him rolled across the floor, stopping at his feet. He didn't even look down.

For years, Camden had been my protector. When others mocked me for being the daughter of a convicted murderer, he defended me fiercely. I'd struggled with emotional detachment since childhood, but for him, I worked through therapy to feel again. Today was supposed to be a celebration of my recovery.

Instead, I found him with Adriana Boyd—my former bully—wrapped around him like a snake.

When she "accidentally" spilled wine on me, Camden didn't intervene. Instead, his eyes hardened as he said, "Isla, didn't you hear your sister-in-law? Get on with it."

Someone kicked me from behind. I collapsed to my knees, wine soaking my clothes as Adriana's ring slashed my cheek. Through tears, I looked up at Camden pleadingly.

"How about we play 'bark like a dog'?" Adriana suggested, her voice dripping with malice.

The childhood trauma flooded back—neighborhood kids forcing me to bark after my father murdered my mother and took his own life.

Camden leaned down, his breath against my ear. "Come on, Isla. Don't make me repeat myself. Bark."

As tears streamed down my face, something inside me hardened. I slowly rose to my feet.

No one expected what I did next.

...

"A convict's daughter… really?"

The voice was unmistakable—low, slow, dripping with mockery.

I froze in place, my fingers tightening around the small gift bag in my hands.

"You guys can do whatever you want with her," Camden Perry continued, lazily swirling the whiskey in his glass. The dim bar lights cast sharp shadows over his handsome face, so familiar, yet so foreign.

Then, his lips curved into a cruel smile.

"She's probably as stiff as a corpse in bed anyway. Don't blame me if she's a disappointment."

Something inside me shattered.

A deafening silence filled my ears.

My fingers trembled, the gift bag slipping from my grip, crashing onto the floor with a muffled thud.

The silver bracelet inside—a symbol of the bond I thought we shared—rolled across the hardwood floor, stopping just inches from Camden's polished shoes.

He didn't even glance at it.

Laughter erupted around him.

My breath hitched.

This was not the Camden I knew.

I've struggled with emotional detachment since childhood.

I remained distant from everyone, with one notable exception—Camden Perry.

When I was mocked, he would go all out defending me; when I was bullied, he fiercely stood up for me.

Out of gratitude for his kindness, I worked hard to overcome my condition.

The day I was declared free from this affliction, I excitedly headed to the bar to share the good news with him immediately.

But the Camden who once