Queen Of His Twisted Betrayal

My husband, Cameron, cheated on me with his intern, Cara. After months of begging, I gave my childhood sweetheart a second chance, but the trust was gone.

One night, after a fight, he stormed out. I watched on a hidden dashcam as he drove straight to her apartment, the sounds of their passion echoing through the car's speakers, a soundtrack to my despair.

The next day, I found them kissing in our foyer. In a blind rage, I attacked Cara. Cameron shoved me to protect her, and my head slammed against the wall, splitting open. As blood streamed down my face, he cradled Cara, murmuring, "Are you okay?"

At the hospital, his mother arrived, horrified. "She's pregnant with another man's child, and she's trying to trap you!" she screamed at Cameron.

But he only had eyes for his mistress. He pushed past me, sending me sprawling to the floor, and rushed to Cara's side after she faked a medical emergency. He didn't even look back.

Later, he returned, his eyes cold. "I can't let Cara go," he said. "You'll still be my wife. My queen. Just... allow me this one small indulgence."

The audacity was breathtaking. He wanted me, his wife, to accept his mistress. But his arrogance didn't stop there. When Cara went missing, he accused me of harming her. He dragged me from my hospital bed, held a knife to my arm, and sliced my skin. "Tell me where she is," he hissed, his face twisted with madness, "or I'll make you."

Chapter 1

Audrey POV:

The sweet taste of betrayal was a lingering aftertaste, even now, months later, as my husband's lips found mine with a tenderness that felt like a lie. His breath on my skin, his familiar scent, it all screamed comfort, but my heart only whispered caution.

"Audrey, my love," Cameron murmured against my neck, his voice a soft rumble.

It was the same voice he used to soothe me after a long day, the same one that promised forever under a sky full of stars. Now, it only grated on my nerves, a false melody in a broken song.

He kissed my forehead, then my eyelids, a slow, almost reverent trail that ended at my lips. His touch was so careful, so full of devotion. It should have melted the ice around my heart. Instead, it built a wall.

I closed my eyes, but it didn' t help. The image still burned behind my eyelids.

The memory, sharp and unwelcome, sliced through the fragile peace we pretended to have. An echo of a night, not so long ago, when his lips were on another woman' s.

It wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a nightmare. It was a waking horror. I'd walked into his studio, a place I considered sacred, a sanctuary of his art and our shared dreams.

But it was no sanctuary that night. It was a stage for a betrayal.

His intern, Cara Suarez, was there too. His ambitious, bright-eyed