My Perfect Husband Was My Destroyer

It was our first New Year's Eve as a married couple. My husband, Zion Gilbert, had told me he was working overtime to earn money for my medical treatments.

To lighten his burden, I'd secretly taken a temporary job as a server at the Grand Light Hotel. I wanted to surprise him.

Instead, the surprise was on me.

I spotted a familiar figure in the corridor. Zion. But he wasn't wearing his usual modest work clotheshe was clad in a bespoke suit, standing toe-to-toe with a woman dripping in designer elegance.

"Rose has suffered enough," Zion said, his voice low. "I just want to spend a little more time with her."

"I finally got her to trust you completely. Don't ruin it now." The woman's tone was sharp. "If Rose finds out you're the reason for her amnesia, her heart condition, those scars covering her body... and her hysterectomy..."

She paused, eyes narrowing. "Do you think she'd still see you as her savior? As her husband?"

"Enough, Lydia!" Zion's hands balled into fists. "She'll never know."

Hidden in the shadows, I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. Tears streamed down my face. My entire body shook.

The man who slept beside me... he wasn't my savior.

He was the wolf.

All that sweetness. All that romance.

Poison.

A cold draft swept through the corridor, but the chill I felt came from within.

Since waking up with no memory, I'd been a broken thingterrified of the dark, plagued by nightmares. I dreamed of being hunted by wild dogs, dragged into dark rooms by faceless men.

My body was a map of scars. I'd lost the ability to become a mother. I felt incomplete, inferior, wrapping myself in layers of clothing to hide my shame from the world.

Until Zion Gilbert.

He promised to heal me. Said he didn't care about my past. Swore to protect me for a lifetime.

I'd fantasized about our future, painting pictures of a happiness I thought I finally deserved.

Now those pictures lay in shreds.

Lydia Chambers stared at Zion, her expression unyielding. "You're already 'married' to her. Have you ever thought about actually bringing her home?"

"Don't worry, Lydia. The marriage certificate is fake." Zion's voice turned clinical. "She poses no threat to your position as Mrs. Gilbert. In a few days, I'll tell her I won the lottery and send her to a private sanitarium. Somewhere isolated. She'll never be seen again."

A fake certificate.

I bit my lip until I tasted copper. My nails dug into my palms. I remembered the day he gave me that paperI'd cried tears of joy. Thanked God for him.

All a lie.

What was I to Zion Gilbert? A toy? A worn-out shoe to discard when he got bored?

Dong!

The midnight bell tolled.

Zion and Lydia instantly composed themselves, exchanging knowing smiles. They interlaced their fingers and walked toward the banquet hall like royalty.

The crowd erupted as they entered.

"Mr. Gilbert and Miss Chambers have been married five years, yet they're still inseparable. Makes one envious."

"Miss Chambers is the only one suitable for him. She brings him prosperityunlike that wretched Rose Henson."

"He's the sun, she's the moon. A match made in heaven! How could some village girl ever compare?"

I froze in the shadows.

When I was found at the rescue station, I'd forgotten everythingincluding my name. Zion was the one who told me I was "Rose Henson."

So that was my real name.

But why the venom? Why did these strangers speak of me with such disgust? Was I truly so hateful?

Before I could spiral further, Austin Moss appeared behind me.

"What are you standing there for?" he hissed. "Get that wine to the main hall. Now!"

I gripped the tray with trembling hands, lowered my head, and stepped into the light. I tried to make myself invisible, weaving through the crowd.

As I passed Lydia, she didn't look at me. She simply shifted her weight and stuck out a foot.

I stumbled.

Crash.

The tray tipped. Red wine splattered across Lydia's pristine gown and expensive heels.

The hall went silent. Every eye turned to us.

Austin didn't hesitate. He rushed forward and kicked me hard in the stomach.

"Useless trash!" He played to the crowd. "You can't even do this simple job? You've ruined Miss Chambers' dress!"

Pain exploded through my abdomen. I curled into a ball on the cold floor, gasping. "She... she tripped me," I whispered.

He kicked me again, harder.

"Still lying?" he spat. "You could sell your worthless life and still not afford a single thread of that dress!"

The shoe was a masterpiececommissioned from international artisans, inlaid with diamonds, worth tens of millions.

Meanwhile, I couldn't even bring myself to buy new socks. I patched and mended my old ones, desperate to make do. Zion had always said he wanted to save money so we could build a future together.

Yet he gave the best of everything to Lydia Chambers.

"No need for financial compensation," Lydia said, her voice smooth and cold. She extended her foot. "As long as she licks the wine stains off my shoes, I'll let it go."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

I stood frozena circus animal, a clown on display for the elite. Hundreds of mocking gazes stripped away my dignity layer by layer. Humiliation clawed at my throat. Heat flooded my face.

"That's enough."

A deep voice cut through the jeers.

A pair of feet stepped into my line of sight. They were clad in the New Year socks I had knitted with my own handsthe stitching familiar, the pattern unmistakable.

Zion.

Lydia turned to him, her expression shifting to aggrieved innocence. "She deliberately ruined my dress and shoes, Zion. I didn't ask for a cent. I only asked her to clean them. Isn't that tolerant enough?"

"You bumped into me," I whispered, staring at those socks. "It was you."

"Everyone here can testify for Miss Chambers, yet you still dare to lie!" Austin Moss roared, stepping forward, his face twisted in sycophantic rage. "Apologize!"

The crowd echoed him.

"Indeed," Zion said, his tone indifferent. "That is tolerant enough."

My heart plummeted.

I had foolishly thought his arrival meant salvation. That my husband would protect me. Instead, he pretended not to recognize my voice. Refused to listen. This cold, imperious man was a strangernothing like the gentle husband who usually greeted me with a smile.

"Lick it clean," Lydia commanded.

"In front of everyone? That's improper," Zion interjected smoothly. "Just have her wipe it with her clothes."

The onlookers praised him instantly. Mr. Gilbert is so kind. He's leaving her a shred of dignity.

I wanted to scream. Was I supposed to kowtow and thank them for their mercy? For allowing me to use my sleeve instead of my tongue?

Under the crushing weight of their coercion, I had no choice. Trembling, I knelt. I wiped the wine from Lydia's heels with my sleeve.

"Someone, come!" Austin barked the moment I finished. "Throw this trash out!"

Two bodyguards lunged forward, gripping my arms, dragging me toward the exit.

As I was hauled away, Lydia's voice floated over the music. "Zion, doesn't this scene feel familiar? Just like back then, when that womanRose Hensonrushed into our wedding to cause trouble and got thrown out."

"It really does," Zion replied, devoid of emotion. "She deserved it."

The heavy doors slammed shut. Music started up again inside. I collapsed onto the cold pavement. Through the glass, I watched Zion take Lydia into his arms. They danced gracefully, a picture of perfection.

A sharp sting hit my nose. I wiped itmy hand came away red. The metallic scent of blood filled my senses, a reminder of the sickness eating away at me.

Back at the rental unit, I sat in the dim light, looking at the tiny home Zion and I had pieced together. The refrigerator, table, and chairs were scavenged from secondhand markets. The sofa had been rescued from a dump.

Once, I had found this room warm. With Zion here, it had been a harbor.

Now it felt like an ice cellar.

I curled up on the lumpy sofa, wrapping the thin blanket tight around my shoulders. My eyes locked onto the photo of us taped to the wall, unable to reconcile the man in the picture with the man in the ballroom.

More than an hour later, the door creaked open.

Zion walked in.

Gone was the glossy, diamond-studded tuxedo. He had changed back into his "costume"work clothes riddled with holes and stained with grime. In his arms, a bouquet of fresh flowers. A cake box dangled from his left hand, a cheap takeout container in his right.

I froze.

I looked at him, unable to decide if his dedication to this charade was thoughtful or psychopathic.

"A young couple was fighting down the street and threw these flowers away," he said, a bright, fake smile plastered on his face as he shoved the bouquet into my hands. "I saw they weren't damaged, so I picked them up for you."

The tiny flicker of hope that had survived the night was instantly extinguished.

Sadness, heavy and suffocating, took its place.

I thought it was a surprise.

It turned out to be someone else's trash.

Zion opened the cake box, then the takeout container.

The cake was a ruina collapsed puddle of cream and mud-colored frosting. The food was worse: a chaotic mess of mixed dishes, a chicken drumstick gnawed to the bone, sushi pieces with bite marks in them.

One glance confirmed it. Leftovers from tonight's banquet.

A bitter taste flooded my mouth.

What exactly did I do wrong?

Am I only worthy of someone else's scraps? Is this the extent of his love for me?

Truly, he was "good" to me.

"Rose, this cake is delicious. Here, have a bite."

Zion scooped up a spoonful of the mangled dessert and held it to my lips.

Nausea roiled in my stomach at the sickly-sweet odor. I raised my head and met his eyes.

"I was working part-time at the Grand Light Hotel tonight. I already ate the staff meal."

I said it deliberately.

The Grand Light Hotel was exactly where his banquet had been held.

His hand jerked. The spoon clattered against the table, cream splattering the wood.

He scrambled to wipe the table, using the motion to mask his panic. A tight, unnatural smile stretched across his face. "Good that you've eaten, then."

I waited. I thought he would take this chance to explain. To tell me the truth.

But he didn't.

A hollow pit opened in my chest, swallowing whatever hope I had left.

When I remained silent, Zion let out a breath of relief. He pulled me into his arms.

"Rose."

"I missed you so much."

In the past, those words would have filled me with warmth. I would have hugged him back, soaking in his affection.

Tonight, I stood stiff as a board.

Then his hand slid inside my collar, fingers brushing against my scars.

A violent shudder ran through me. Revulsion rose like bilevisceral, physical. I shoved him away.

"Rose, what's wrong?"

He stood there, bewildered. He couldn't understand why his docile wife was acting so strange.

"Nothing. I'm just tired."

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze.

"You don't need to work part-time. Let me handle things. Besides, who knows? Maybe I'll buy a lottery ticket one day and hit the jackpot. Then we can live in comfort."

He smiled, his voice smooth.

He was already laying the groundwork for his next lieexplaining away his wealth as luck.

My lips parted, the urge to expose him burning my throat, but exhaustion pinned me down. It all felt pointless.

"I'll get hot water. Soak your feet," he said softly. "Rest well tonight. My vacation starts tomorrow, so I'll stay with you. We'll spend some real time together."

He played the role of the considerate husband perfectly. He carried me to bed and tucked me in.

From start to finish, I remained cold.

Middle of the night.

Sleep refused to come.

Suddenly, Zion rose from the bed. He dressed quickly and bolted out of the house.

I slipped out of bed and followed him into the darkness.

Outside, under the dim streetlights, the truth revealed itself. Lydia was here.

"Didn't we agree you wouldn't come here?"

He frowned, his voice hushed but urgent.

"I missed you."

She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "You can't keep ignoring me for Rose, can you? I'm a woman, Zion. I need love too."

She looked up, pouting. "Compared to other women, I've already been very generous. Haven't I?"

The resistance drained out of him. The next second, he crushed her against his chest.

The sight hit me like a blow between the eyes.

My world spun, the pain sharp and dizzying.

"Will you keep me company for the next few days?" Lydia asked, her voice dripping with feigned vulnerability.

She wore such a wronged expression.

Guilt flashed in his eyes. He surrendered softly. "Okay."

He balanced two boats with such practiced ease.

Suddenly, Lydia shifted her gaze.

She looked past his shoulder and stared directly into the shadows where I stood. She saw me.

But she didn't scream. She didn't expose me.

Instead, locking eyes with me, she pulled him down and pressed her lips firmly against his.

They kissed with a blazing intensity, a fire hot enough to melt the falling snow.

I couldn't bear to watch another second. Stumbling, I retreated to the room, climbed onto the bed, and curled into a tight ball.

Some time later, Zion returned.

He reached out and pulled me into his arms, but his embrace offered no comfortonly a chilling void that seeped into my bones. Fear gnawed at me.

In that moment, I finally understood the true meaning of sharing a bed but dreaming different dreams.

I lay awake the entire night. Zion slept soundly. The next morning, he hurried out before the sun had fully risen.

Moments later, my phone buzzed.

Sorry, Rose. The company suddenly ordered me to work overtime out of town. If I don't go, I'll be fired.

Stay home and be good. When I get back, I'll take you out for a nice meal.

I stared at the screen. The words were patronizing, the kind used to coax a naive child. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

In the past, I would have believed him without hesitation. I would have worried about his health, thinking how hard he worked for us.

Now, I realized just how stupid I had been.

The afternoon dragged on in silence until a sharp knock shattered the quiet.

Lydia stood at the door.

I wasn't surprised. The way she had looked at me last nighttriumphant, cruelhad been a silent promise. I had been waiting for this.

"Look at this dump," she sneered, her gaze sweeping over the shabby rental. "You would have been better off dying five years ago."

"What do you mean?" My voice trembled. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Only then did she meet my eyes. The gleam of a victor.

"Actually, you didn't do anything wrong," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "It's simply because Zion doesn't love you. That's all."

"Then why did he come looking for me? Why" I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Despite everything, a desperate part of me still clung to hope.

"Maybe for fun?" Her smile widened. She pulled out her phone. "Watch this."

A grainy video from five years ago. Me and Lydia at the corner of a staircase.

Her voice, sharp: "You didn't have money to study, so I funded your tuition. You couldn't find a job, so I recruited you into the company."

My past self, agitated: "You said you were my benefactorso why did you steal my husband?"

Lydia, chillingly calm: "That I can steal Zion away just proves my ability. I want to live the life of a rich wifewhat's wrong with that?"

Then the video took a violent turn. Lydia produced a fruit knife and slashed her own palm. She staggered back, feigning a fall, bursting into theatrical sobs.

Seconds later, Zion rushed in. Lydia pointed at me, screaming that I had tried to kill her.

Before I could speak, Zion slapped me across the face.

"You vicious woman!" he roared. "I truly misjudged you! For hurting Lydia, I will make you pay a thousandfold!"

The video ended.

Strength left my legs. I slumped to the floor.

Lydia stood over me, narrating with glee how she had systematically stolen Zion away. Every manipulation. Every lie that led him to hate me while doting on her.

One betrayal after another.

My entire body trembled.

"Rose," she said, cold and final. "Compared to me, you never stood a chance."

She turned on her heel, the click-clack of her heels fading down the hallway.

I sat alone, tears streaming until there were none left. My heart, finally and completely, died.

Slowly, I stood. I packed my few belongings into a cheap woven sack.

Without looking back, I walked out into the wind and snow.

I don't need this pitiful excuse for love.

At that same moment, Zion Gilbert was in the bath when a sudden, inexplicable dread washed over him. Not a fleeting thoughta physical reaction. A sharp chill down his spine, mimicking the exact despair he'd felt five years ago.

The day he lost Rose Henson.

Driven by instinct, he grabbed his phone and dialed her number.