My Husband's Treacherous Game

For two years, I was the perfect daughter-in-law, caring for my "paralyzed" mother-in-law to pay for a mistake my husband, Holden, never let me forget.

The day I found out her paralysis was a lie was the day I also discovered he' d tricked me into signing our divorce papers.

They moved his mistress into our home. When I tried to expose their lies, they had my leg broken and sent me for electroshock therapy, forcing a false confession while my husband watched.

On the night of his wedding to her, I overheard him say his biggest regret was ever marrying me.

That' s when the last of my love finally turned to ash.

Months later, as I turned my back on his pathetic pleas for forgiveness, a speeding car hurtled toward me.

Holden pushed me to safety, sacrificing himself.

Now, he lies broken in a hospital bed, looking at me with hope in his eyes, asking if I can finally forgive him.

Chapter 1

Ansley Fuller POV:

For two years, I was the perfect, doting daughter-in-law to a woman who was faking her paralysis, all to pay for a mistake my husband never let me forget. The day I found out it was all a lie was the day I also found out he' d tricked me into signing our divorce papers.

The scent of acrid, burnt silk filled the laundry room, a monument to my exhaustion. It was the third time this week my mother-in-law, Dollye Hurst, had "accidentally" spilled something on her clothes. This time, it was a thick, syrupy blackcurrant juice, staining the cream-colored blouse a violent shade of purple. The iron, set too high by my trembling, overtired hands, had seared a brown, ugly patch right through the delicate fabric.

The blouse was ruined. Another piece of my sanity frayed and snapped.

I stared at the scorch mark, a gaping wound in the expensive material. It mirrored the hole Dollye had been methodically burning in my life for the past 730 days.

"Ansley! Are you deaf?"

Dollye' s voice, sharp and imperious, cut through the hum of the dryer. It always sounded so robust for a woman supposedly paralyzed from the waist down.

I took a deep, steadying breath and walked out of the laundry room, the ruined blouse clutched in my hand. Dollye was parked in her state-of-the-art wheelchair in the middle of the living room, her expression a familiar mask of disdain.

"You burned it, didn' t you?" she accused, her eyes narrowing. "You' re so clumsy. I don' t know what my son ever saw in you. A pretty face, I suppose. But beauty fades, and incompetence is forever."

I didn' t say anything. There was nothing to say. Arguing was like throwing stones into a black hole; they just disappeared, and the void remained.

I laid the scorched blouse on the ottoman, the purple stain stark against the pale leather. I would have to go out and buy her a new