Page 141 of The Professor's Wife

And sometimes, it dreams of us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THE PAST

I didn’t touch the book for the first two days.

I wouldn’t give him that.

Instead, I lay on the floor in a haze, slipping between shallow sleep and the gnawing agony of thirst. Every time I stirred, the chain clanked, reminding me that this wasn’t some nightmare—it was Oliver’s design.

I kept telling myself that if I resisted, he’d see how cruel this was. He’d come back, see me frail and trembling, and understand how wrong it was. He’d be horrified that whatever I had done to make him snap could never warrant this torture. He’d undo the lock and plead for my forgiveness.

Not that it would make a difference.

The moment he let me out of here, I was going to take Rowe, and we were going to run far, far away.

But when the door creaked open and I looked up at him through blurred vision, there was no compassion on his face. No hesitation. No shock at what he’d done.

Only an emptiness that rattled my bones.

“You haven’t opened it,” he said, his tone neutral.

He looked at the untouched book and the unlit oil lamp by my side as though they had betrayed him.

“You’ve wasted your time.”

I coughed, my voice rasping like dry paper. “Why are you doing this, Oliver?”

“You don’t think I’m being serious—”

“You can’t force me to do something—”

“You should want this.”

“You’ve chained me to the fucking floor!” I screamed. “You’ve gone fucking crazy, Oliver. Let me go now!”

But he wasn’t listening to me.

Why should he?

He had the upper hand. Why did I continue to behave like I had any kind of control? The threat of divorce wouldn’t stop him from leaving me chained in here, covered in my own piss, severely dehydrated and hungry.

For a moment, silence stretched between us.

Then his expression hardened.

He took the glass I’d been rationing, stared at the little water remaining inside, and turned it over.

The last of it dribbled onto the floor.

My heart jumped in shock.

“No more water,” he said softly. “Not until you learn to use what I give you.”

“No!”

My cracked voice broke around the word. Panic clawed at my chest. I pulled at the chain, thrashing until the metal split the skin around my ankle.