He Married Me Just to Get to My Best Friend

I'd been married to Mark for three years, and in all that time, he'd never let me touch him.

Once, when my hand accidentally brushed his while closing the car door, he recoiled like I was contagious. "You might have a virus," he muttered, forcing me to scrub my hands thirty-eight times under his watchful gaze.

Another time, I was stranded on a mountain road, shivering in the cold. When Mark finally showed up to rescue me, I threw my arms around him in sheer relief. His response? He shoved me—hard—right off the cliff. I broke my leg.

Every time he stammered out an apology, I convinced myself it was just his obsessive-compulsive disorder and crippling germophobia.

Until I discovered the truth.

He'd been drugging me.

And handing me over to his friends.

His buddies would laugh, nudging him with crude jokes.

"Come on, Mark, Wendy's your wife. You don't even care that she's been with other guys?"

"We all know you're obsessed with her best friend, but you don't have to be a damn monk to win her over. Not even touching your own wife?"

Mark would just take a drag of his cigarette, smirking. "Holly only likes clean men. I'm saving her first kiss—her first everything—for her. As for Wendy? Marrying her was the easiest way to get close to Holly."

"Keeping her satisfied keeps her off my back."

So the man who'd proposed to me three times—who'd sworn he loved me—had only ever wanted my best friend.

I filed for divorce.

Then came the car accident.

And I forgot everything.

Everyone remembered Mark—except me.

Later, when he saw me kissing my new boyfriend, something inside him snapped. His eyes turned bloodshot as he grabbed me, shaking me violently.

"Wendy, you loved me so much. How could you forget me?"

His friends howled with laughter.

"Mark, you're a legend! Not only did you share your wife with us, you even gave up your house. Absolute king!"

"But are you sure the dosage was right? If Wendy wakes up in the middle of this and figures it out, we're screwed."

Mark just scoffed.

"This isn't the first time. Stop acting like amateurs."

His cold gaze flicked to my unconscious body.

"I watched her drink every drop of that juice. She won't wake up until morning."

"Consider it my treat tonight. Keep her happy so she stops bothering me."

Then he left.

I heard his voice soften as he answered a call.

"Holly, congrats on winning first prize! Wendy's not feeling well—she's asleep. I'll bring your gift over."

The door slammed shut.

A deep, suffocating dread settled in my chest.

Mark hadn't married me because he loved me.

He'd married me to get to Holly.

Earlier that day, Holly had gushed about her big win, begging me to celebrate with her that night.

Mark, silent as always, handed me a glass of juice. "Packed with vitamins," he said, watching intently as I drank every last drop.

But my stomach had been uneasy. I threw it all up.

He'd drugged me.

Again.

And now, as I lay motionless, I heard the lewd laughter, the footsteps creeping closer.

A hand reached for me—

"Get out."

A low, furious growl cut through the noise.

Vince.

The quietest of Mark's friends, the one with the dragon tattoo snaking down his back. The one I'd always been most afraid of.

Yet here he was, throwing them all out.

I held my breath, feigning sleep, waiting to see what he'd do.