The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge

For seven years, I funded my husband Gonzalo's PhD. I paid for everything. A week after our wedding, his young "mentee," Kloe, moved in with us, claiming a rare autoimmune disorder made her "fragile."

On our Aspen ski trip, he used my money to buy her an $8,000 handbag. Then, he demanded I give Kloe my high-performance ski jacket because her flimsy one wasn't warm enough.

When I refused, he ripped it off my body.

I slipped on the ice, hitting my head as he walked away with her, leaving me injured and freezing in the snow.

Later that night, he abandoned me again while I was sick in our hotel room, to get a separate room with Kloe. He said they needed to "discuss his academic paper."

But he forgot one crucial detail. I'm not just a wife. I'm Captain Amy Payne, U.S. Army Reserve.

I called my best friend, a manager at the hotel chain. "I need a master key," I told her. "We're about to crash a very important academic discussion."

Chapter 1

Amy Payne POV:

My skin felt sticky, my hair clinging to my neck. Sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling down my temples. The air in our apartment was thick, suffocating. It was mid-July in Austin, and the thermostat read 85 degrees Fahrenheit.

I walked to the thermostat, my fingers already slick with sweat. I pushed the 'down' arrow, watching the numbers tick lower, 84, 83, 82. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips. I just needed it below 80 to feel human again.

The click of the door made me jump. Gonzalo.

His voice cut through the humid air, sharp and accusing. "What do you think you're doing, Amy?"

I turned, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow. "It's boiling in here, Gonzalo. I'm just trying to make it bearable."

He strode towards me, his face tight. "You know Kloe has a condition. She's extremely sensitive to cold. You can't just drop the temperature like that."

My jaw clenched. "It's 85 degrees. Nobody should be sensitive to cold at 85 degrees."

He ignored me, his gaze fixed on the thermostat. "Her autoimmune disorder is severe. It's not just about comfort; it's about her health."

"So, my comfort and health don't matter?" I asked, my voice flat.

"She's a guest, Amy. And she's fragile. We need to accommodate her." He reached over me, his hand covering mine on the control panel. He pushed the 'up' arrow. The numbers climbed back to 85.

I pulled my hand away, heat rushing to my face. "Gonzalo, it's ninety degrees outside. I can barely breathe in here."

A soft cough drifted from the hallway. Kloe emerged, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, her eyes wide and innocent. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is there trouble because of me?" Her voice was a whisper, laced with fake concern.

"No trouble, Kloe," Gonzalo said immediately, his voice softening. "Amy just forgot how delicate you are."

Kloe offered a weak smile. "My