The Stolen Wife

ARTEMIS

I stood at the far end of the grand ballroom like a stranger. The champagne glass in my hand felt too heavy, and I was almost tempted to drop it, but that was the only thing keeping me distracted.

My eyes swept the hall, and even with the large number of people in the room, I still felt like a ghost.

The guests chatted and laughed while treating me like I was invisible, even though my husband, Van Calloway, was the party's host.

I tried my best not to feel scorn towards them, but I couldn’t help it.

I once belonged to this crowd. These people had been my friends first. Hell, some of them used to do anything to ensure they never got on my bad side, but now, they treated me like trash.

My life changed drastically three years ago because of my husband. He had carelessly caused my father’s shipping company to go bankrupt, and it was partially my fault.

My father fell ill with cancer and needed surgery to remove the growth from his brain. He needed a year to recover and wanted me to handle the company, but I had stupidly insisted that he give it to Van, whose construction business was still finding its footing.

I wanted to help Van as my husband, but that was the biggest mistake I would ever make. He promised me he would take care of the business, but he went behind my back and used the company as collateral for a business deal, he had been promised by some foreign investors he met online.

Van didn’t tell me about the deal until it fell through. He knew I would have never agreed, and when everything collapsed, he used my father’s company to clear his debt and mess the deal had caused.

Everything my father had worked for disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Van was never remorseful about what he had done to me and my family.

Instead of fixing the mess he created, he ensured we would never be able to retaliate against him and went further to cut off all my family’s access to money.

I stayed with him because I believed it was a mistake and loved him too much to walk away. My parents also didn’t blame me and told me not to blame myself, but I couldn’t do that. It was all my fault.

“Emmy!” Van sang as he called for me, making me freeze in fear.

I recognised the hint of mockery and amusement in his tone and eyes when they locked on me.

“I almost forgot you existed for a minute,” he smiled, and the sight unnerved me because it lacked sincerity and was only filled with schemes. “You’ve been so quiet tonight.”

“Hasn’t she always been the quiet type?” someone cruelly remarked, and my gaze caught Annabelle as she smirked in my direction.

Annabelle was one of the many people who benefited greatly from me when I was a member of high society. When her consulting firm was a few days old, she came begging for investment but was one of the first to turn her back on me.

“Has she?” Van mused, “I always remembered her as the chatty type when her father still had money. She would not shut up about offering help to everyone.”

The guests laughed as if I were the joke of the century, and a burning sensation crawled up my throat as I fought to hide the tears that burned at the back of my eyes.

My stomach twisted because I knew what was coming. Van was going to do it again. He was going to use me as entertainment for his guests, as though the music wasn’t already enough.

Their eyes on me pricked my skin like needles, and all I wanted was to run away from their unwanted attention.

Van stood tall and proud in the centre of the room, the unnerving smirk on his face as his hand beckoned for me to come to him.

His eyes gleamed with something I recognised too well. An emotion I had hoped and prayed fervently wouldn’t make its ugly appearance.

Cruelty.

“Come here, Emmy,” He commanded with a tone that threatened me with what would happen if I dared to do otherwise.

I forced my legs to move even when they begged me not to. Each step felt heavier than the last as I made my way towards Van until I stopped in front of him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Van’s voice rose over the quiet music, “We can’t forget about the woman who made tonight possible. My lovely wife, Artemis Calloway. Isn’t she stunning and capable?”

A few people snickered. Why wouldn’t they? The tone Van had used for his ‘wife’ was void of appreciation, which his words would have called for, but it was full of mocking and degradation.

Van tilted his head. “Tell us, Artemis, you were an art collector before, weren’t you?”

My lips parted, and a small gasp escaped my mouth in surprise as I tried to find an answer to his unexpected question. I hadn’t expected him to bring up my old hobby, which I missed a lot.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Van mocked, his smirk widening. “Back when your father’s company was thriving, you had a little hobby.”

Van turned to the audience as he continued speaking. “She used to throw all her money into paintings. Abstract, modern, and even a few old classics. They were worth a lot.”

Murmurs spread through the group as people who knew me from before nodded in vague recollection of my distant hobby.

Van chuckled. “I remember how passionately she spoke about it. She used to go on and on about how she could see emotion in a brushstroke.” He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “How poetic.”

The guests hollered again with his theatrics, and shame burned through my pale skin. My hands curled into fists as I tried my hardest to contain my emotions.

“But the funny thing is,” Van continued, turning his gaze back to me with mocking glee in his eyes, “for all her love of art, she couldn’t even keep a single piece. Isn’t that right, darling?”

My breath caught as the ugly reminder of the exact moment Van had ripped all my paintings from me to sell to the highest bidder, all in the name of covering losses.

The room was silent as they waited for an answer, but I had none to give.

Van leaned in, his voice lower now but just as cutting. “We had to sell them all, didn’t we? Every single one. I wonder, did it hurt more to lose your paintings or the last bit of dignity you had left when your family’s business crumpled?”

So, he remembered?

I thought Van had forgotten about what he had done to me and my parents since he continued to live like he didn’t remember that part of his life. I always wondered why he started treating me badly after the incident, or why it felt like I was the one who did something wrong and not him.

My eyes stung as the guests’ mocking laughter filled the hall. I was barely holding on, but I still fought to keep a neutral expression because Van wouldn’t hesitate to prey on my tears if I let them drop.

I had loved those paintings more than anything, and Van knew that. That was the reason he took them in the first place. He knew he could get me to do anything if he promised to get them back, and I fell for his lies every time he made those promises.

Looking back, I felt like the biggest fool for pouring out my heart to him and giving him detailed talks about how delicate and fragile those paintings made me feel. I thought he loved me and would never hurt me.

Van clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No response? That’s disappointing. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess if you had the same passion for me as you do for your little paintings. You stood by and let your family’s business get ruined.”

The pity tone in his voice as he changed the narrative and made it seem like I was the one to blame for what happened and not him was the last straw.

A wave of nausea rolled over me, the humiliation pressing down on my chest as my vision blurred. The power to control my emotions slipped through me like ice water melting.

Enough.

I needed to get out of here before I fell apart in front of them. I took a shaky step back, intending to run out of the hall, when a voice stopped me.

“I’d like to disagree.” The voice, deep, smooth and unfamiliar, spoke with a tone that commanded attention.

The room fell silent, and everyone tried to get a look at who had just spoken.

I arched my head, curious as well to see who the voice belonged to and my breath seized when a handsome stranger stepped forward from the parted crowd.

He was tall, his broad shoulders filling his dark suit with effortless elegance. His sharp features were unreadable, but something in his dark eyes unsettled me. It was something cold, something dangerous.

Van froze when he saw the man and I saw recognition seep into his features.

The stranger’s gaze flickered towards me and his eyes held me in place. Then he turned to my husband, his expression blank but his presence suddenly suffocating.

“It seems to me,” the man continued, slipping his hands into his pockets, “that your wife hasn’t lost her dignity at all.”

“But you… You just lost your power. Right here, in front of everyone. And the worst part?” A slow, calculated smirk curved his lips.

“You’re too stupid to realise it.”