Shared Wife in the Wilderness - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading Shared Wife in the Wilderness, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of Shared Wife in the Wilderness.
I'd seen Dominic slip something into the wine before entering the tent. Yet here it was—the same glass now in Vincent's hands.
I didn't let myself think too hard about it. Playing dumb, I took the drink and pretended to sip, swallowing nothing but my own saliva.
Vincent's eyes flicked to my throat. When he saw it move, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
A few minutes later, I let my body go slack, collapsing onto the table in a convincing drunk act. Vincent poked me a few times, exhaling sharply when I didn't stir.
"Finally. I was starting to think the drug was a dud." He shot Dominic a look. "She's all yours. And don't screw up the recording."
"Relax, Vince."
Dominic's voice. So they were in this together.
Through barely open eyes, I watched Vincent leave with Sophia, abandoning me in the tent with Dominic. My own husband... had just handed me over like a piece of property.
A sharp ache tore through my chest, tears spilling instantly.
Dominic adjusted the camera, yanked off his shirt, and closed in. His hands were rough—one gripping my waist, the other pawing at my chest as he flipped me onto my back.
Then he froze.
"Shit! You—you're awake?!"
He whirled toward the tent entrance, bellowing, "Vince! Get in here—now!"
Vincent stormed in, annoyance written all over his face. "What the hell's your problem? Can't even—"
His words died the second he saw me. For two full seconds, he just stood there. Then, like a bad actor remembering his lines, he swung at Dominic.
"You sick bastard! What were you doing to my wife?!"
If I hadn't known better, I might've bought the act.
Wiping my tears, I let out a bitter laugh. "Save it. I heard everything. You two planned this." My voice cracked. "Vincent... we're married. How could you?"
Some stupid, hopeful part of me still waited for an excuse—anything to make this a nightmare I could wake up from.
But reality was a knife to the gut.
Vincent's mask dropped. His face, once so tender, twisted into something ugly. "Since you know, fine. Four years. No kid. I'm done wasting time on a barren woman. Don't act like this isn't your fault."
That was his reason?
His family worshipped their bloodline. After the first year, I'd gotten tested—I was fine. The problem was his.
To protect his pride, I'd taken the blame. Covered for him. And this was my reward.
Rage and grief clawed up my throat, my heart too numb to break further.
"So because I didn't get pregnant, you'd let another man rape me? If you wanted out, why not just divorce me?"
Vincent's laugh was ice. "And give you half of everything? How would I afford a new wife then? No, you're the problem—you'll leave with nothing. The plan was to make you think you cheated. But now..." His eyes darkened. "Guess I'll improvise."
I didn't let myself think too hard about it. Playing dumb, I took the drink and pretended to sip, swallowing nothing but my own saliva.
Vincent's eyes flicked to my throat. When he saw it move, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
A few minutes later, I let my body go slack, collapsing onto the table in a convincing drunk act. Vincent poked me a few times, exhaling sharply when I didn't stir.
"Finally. I was starting to think the drug was a dud." He shot Dominic a look. "She's all yours. And don't screw up the recording."
"Relax, Vince."
Dominic's voice. So they were in this together.
Through barely open eyes, I watched Vincent leave with Sophia, abandoning me in the tent with Dominic. My own husband... had just handed me over like a piece of property.
A sharp ache tore through my chest, tears spilling instantly.
Dominic adjusted the camera, yanked off his shirt, and closed in. His hands were rough—one gripping my waist, the other pawing at my chest as he flipped me onto my back.
Then he froze.
"Shit! You—you're awake?!"
He whirled toward the tent entrance, bellowing, "Vince! Get in here—now!"
Vincent stormed in, annoyance written all over his face. "What the hell's your problem? Can't even—"
His words died the second he saw me. For two full seconds, he just stood there. Then, like a bad actor remembering his lines, he swung at Dominic.
"You sick bastard! What were you doing to my wife?!"
If I hadn't known better, I might've bought the act.
Wiping my tears, I let out a bitter laugh. "Save it. I heard everything. You two planned this." My voice cracked. "Vincent... we're married. How could you?"
Some stupid, hopeful part of me still waited for an excuse—anything to make this a nightmare I could wake up from.
But reality was a knife to the gut.
Vincent's mask dropped. His face, once so tender, twisted into something ugly. "Since you know, fine. Four years. No kid. I'm done wasting time on a barren woman. Don't act like this isn't your fault."
That was his reason?
His family worshipped their bloodline. After the first year, I'd gotten tested—I was fine. The problem was his.
To protect his pride, I'd taken the blame. Covered for him. And this was my reward.
Rage and grief clawed up my throat, my heart too numb to break further.
"So because I didn't get pregnant, you'd let another man rape me? If you wanted out, why not just divorce me?"
Vincent's laugh was ice. "And give you half of everything? How would I afford a new wife then? No, you're the problem—you'll leave with nothing. The plan was to make you think you cheated. But now..." His eyes darkened. "Guess I'll improvise."
End of Shared Wife in the Wilderness Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to Shared Wife in the Wilderness book page.