Sitting back on the sofa, he kept an arm over the back of the seat and his other arm holding his glass on the edge. He was dressed in his trousers and a dark blue jumper, one leg crossed over the other. She was leant back against him, still in the robe that she'd borrowed from him. Her head was lolling by his chest, her legs tugged upwards and knees bent. She had a hand in her lap and her other hand was lifted up, her fingers tangling against his on the back of the sofa. He looked down to her, just about making out the curve of her nose and nothing else from the angle she rested against him at.

It had been three weeks since the first time she'd been in his apartment. Since then, she had been there mainly every other night. Usually, they ended up sleeping together and she'd leave before the light came in through the curtains in the morning. Other times, she would come over and just sleep in his bed. He wondered if it was because she felt at ease. Did she not sleep well at home? Did her husband's presence keep her on edge? He never pushed her for anything, always letting her be the one to mainly initiate contact. After that, however, he knew when to take over. She didn't seem to mind either. He guessed that a part of her enjoyed being looked after, knowing that someone else could take care of her if only just for a little while.

And he didn't mind being the one to do it. There were times when he wondered what his mother would think of him, sleeping with an American woman like Elizabeth. She was nothing like his mother had envisioned for him. She was bold. She spoke her mind. She didn't back down from fights. She was stubborn and calculated. She was sweet when she wanted to be, of course, and she had clearly been raised with manners.

He then wondered what his wife would think of him. He never imagined moving on from her, not truly. He hadn't sought anyone since she had died. He hadn't bothered to go on dates, despite sitting in bars and women coming up to him occasionally. He hadn't even been bothered by the idea of a life of solitude. A part of him had welcomed it. Would his wife be happy for him? Would she consider what he was doing an insult to her memory? He hoped not. He truly hoped not, but he couldn't say for certain. She had been possessive over him. He'd quite enjoyed it whenever she thought anyone was flirting with him and she became territorial.

But would she want him to be with someone else? Then again, he wasn't exactly with Elizabeth. He wasn't sure what the two of them were doing, not really. He wasn't entirely sure why he had let things go on for this long or why he was getting so involved in her life. And what did Elizabeth think was happening? He knew that she had a husband. He also knew that her long-term plan didn't involve her husband. But, when she left, would that be it? She'd given him no reason to think that this would develop into anything resembling a relationship and he wasn't naïve enough to think that it would. He didn't even think that he wanted that.

He guessed, what they both wanted, was just companionship. But then he couldn't deny that there was something between them. Why else would he have kept tabs on her for so long?

"How did you meet him? Your husband?"

He already knew the answer to that question, but he wanted to hear it from her. She kept on playing with his fingers inside of hers, moving them slowly in between her own. "We met at some gala," she said. "I'd been invited by some clients and he was there on business. He…he was more charming than any man I've ever met before. I never wanted to go to the event. I was never big on going to fancy dinners and restaurants. I was happier staying at home, but my boss had insisted I go. At the time, I thanked her, but looking back on it now, well, I think I curse her more than thank her."

"I think that's understandable," he agreed with her. "And…you just started dating?"

"Not quite," Elizabeth said.

He left his drink on the table next to the sofa and moved his hand to stroke her hair gently. He found her snuggling closer to him then, enjoying the way his fingers parted the strands and massaged her scalp. Closing her eyes, Elizabeth swore that she could fall back to sleep despite the fact that she'd had about ten hours the previous night.

"He travelled a lot," Elizabeth said. "And I was based in Chicago. We used to talk every day on the phone though and he would fly in whenever he could. He used to fly me out to him too…there were holidays in Florida…California…even London and Paris. I'd never felt as lucky as I did back then. He'd send flowers whenever he was out of town and he'd buy me expensive gifts from where he went…perfume…chocolate…clothes…and my parents loved him. My parents were from old money and couldn't be happier that I was dating him. They were thrilled when we got engaged and…despite everything he's done to me…they still want me to stay with him. They've always been of the belief that married life is private. Whatever happens, dirty laundry shouldn't be aired."

"So they don't know what he's done?" he questioned and Elizabeth shrugged.

"They've seen the bruises. They knew he stole all my money. One time, at Christmas, he'd hit me because I didn't look happy enough with the gift he'd gotten me," Elizabeth said and all he could do was look down at her and wonder just how much pain she'd gone through in her life. He couldn't comprehend anyone like her husband hurting her. Her husband was supposed to protect her, but he hadn't. How could he even call himself her husband? "We were going to my parents for dinner that night and I tried to hide the bruise on my cheek as well as I could, but my mom…I was helping her in the kitchen and she saw it…I know she saw it, but all she did was tell me to go to the bathroom and touch up my makeup. She knew. She knew, but she didn't help me. I went to the bathroom and I just cried until I had to go to dinner."

She wasn't crying, but he could hear the hurt in her voice. She'd been abandoned by the very people who were supposed to look after her. He couldn't quite imagine how that would feel. Then again, he'd been the one who'd done the abandoning. He'd left his family behind and he hadn't looked back. Seeing his brother again had taken him by surprise. He hadn't wanted to hurt him, not really. How could he? He just wanted him to leave and never come back. He didn't want to drag him into his world.

"How could they do that?" he questioned from her and Elizabeth shrugged against him.

"Honestly? I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I know that I've never had kids and I've never really wanted kids, but I can't ever imagine doing what they did. I just…I don't know. And my friends never really questioned what had happened either. They never really asked why I stopped meeting with them. They just took Robert's word that I was busy at work and burned out…suffering with my mental health…but he…he hated me going out with them. He'd complain when I came back after having a few drinks, saying that I was making a fool out of myself. And so I stopped meeting them. I wanted to make him happy. I realise how pathetic that sounds."

"It doesn't," he told her with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, it does," Elizabeth retorted. "I'm not the kind of person who puts a man's happiness above her own. I was never that person, but I became someone who I didn't recognise."

"And now?"

"Now…I'm still that person…I mean…I'm a mistress, for Christ's sake," she said and he chuckled, his chest rumbling against her.

"Well, are you technically a mistress if I'm not married?" he wondered from her.

"Good point," she agreed, "I'm not sure of the semantics around it, but I'm still an adulterer."

"And I'm having an affair with a married woman, not exactly the type of thing my mother would be thrilled to hear," he said and Elizabeth moved then. She sat up and picked her drink up from the table. She turned around so that she was facing him, legs crossed beneath her. He saw the way the robe gaped on her slightly, revealing the pale skin of her chest, almost like it was teasing him.

"You never talk about your family," she said. He'd expected this to come up at some point, but he wasn't entirely sure how he should answer it. She didn't even know his real name. Would he ever tell her? Would the need ever arise for him to have to tell her or would she be gone by then?

"It's not an easy topic," he confessed to her. "When my wife died, I closed myself off. I became a recluse and I wasn't entirely sure how to come back from that. My mother…I love her very much…but we…we don't have contact now. My brother too."

"I can imagine that must've been hard," Elizabeth told him and he grabbed his drink and shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

"At the time, yes," he agreed. "But now, I think they're better off without me in their lives. I'm not the same man I was before my wife died. It changed me."

"But they're still your family," Elizabeth told him.

"Family's complicated, Elizabeth," was the only thing he could say to her. "You know that as well as I do."

And she did. She understood and she suspected that this was a topic he didn't want to talk about. He tried not to be too brash with her, not wanting to make her feel like he was pulling away. He just didn't know how to talk to her and sustain the lie he needed to maintain. "My wife, however, was everything my mother wanted in a daughter," he said. He could talk about his wife because she was in the past. "My mother was thrilled when I brought her home for the first time. She helped her cook…they played games together…and she had just enough wit to keep up with my mother. I think she appreciated that. I think she liked that."

"I can imagine," Elizabeth said, a soft smile on her face. "I just can't imagine how horrible it is…to lose her like that…"

"It's worse than you could ever imagine." He admitted that much to her and for a second he felt like the man he had been. He felt like In-Ho and he hadn't let himself feel like that for such a long time. "She was my everything and when I found out she was sick, I would've done anything for her. I did do anything for her…I did things…taking that money…and then…" he trailed off. He couldn't tell her just yet. It wasn't the time.

"And then?" she tried to push him, but he shook his head at her.

"No," he said with a firm shake of his head. "It doesn't matter."

"If you're sure," she said to him, not wanting to make him tell her something that he might regret.

"Another time," he told her and set his glass down before reaching for her cheek, cupping it in his palm. "But my mother would hate you."

Elizabeth knew that she shouldn't laugh, but she couldn't stop herself. He let the smile on his face grow. He brought her towards him then, guiding her face closer to his and kissing her softly for a moment. He pulled back and somehow managed to move her over him until she was straddling his lap. His hands went to play with the tie around the middle of her robe, tugging on it as her hands sat on his shoulders, squeezing them firmly.

"Not a fan of American blue bloods?"

"She would always complain whenever American TV shows were aired instead of her favourite dramas," he said. "Used to say that Americans were too loud and brash for her…and you…well…I think my mother would think you were over-confident."

A brow arched on her forehead. "Is that so?" she asked from him, wondering if he saw that in her too. She wasn't sure she always felt over-confident.

"That's so," he confirmed to her. "And your parents?"

"Oh, they're raging racists," Elizabeth said to him, tone deadpan and he also chuckled at that. "They claim that they're not, but they definitely are. They always wanted me to end up with some preppy American boy. I doubt they'd be happy to find out what I'm up to and who I'm up to it with."

"But you don't seem to mind?"

"I don't," Elizabeth said. "Thankfully, I had an aunt who lived at home with my parents and she was much more worldly. She was the one who told me that there was more to life than being a socialite. She was the one who encouraged me to do something with my law degree. My dad liked to boast that I'd got it, but he never thought I'd use it. I wanted to though. Being a housewife…I couldn't imagine it."

"What happened to your aunt?"

"She died when I was living in Europe," Elizabeth said and he moved his hands to cup her waist. "She was an extraordinary woman. She travelled…worked as a writer for the top travel magazines… she was amazing. She never knew what Robert was like. I can only imagine how disappointed she'd be in me if she knew what I'd become."

"How could she be disappointed? What happened isn't your fault."

"No, but I could've done something sooner," Elizabeth replied.

"No, you couldn't," he said with a shake of his head. "Blaming yourself is never the answer, Elizabeth, because it's never your fault. How he treats you…how he acts…none of that is on you. It's all on him."

Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure how she'd found this man. Could she, for once in her life, actually be lucky? Could fate be working with her instead of against her like it usually was? He moved his fingers upwards and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her curls were untamed around her head. She'd washed all of her makeup from her face and looked younger than her thirty-four years of age.

"You know that you…whatever this is…I think it might be the only thing keeping me sane," Elizabeth confessed to him, realising that she was opening herself up to him. She hated acting vulnerable in front of other people. Over the years, she'd learned to keep her guard up. She'd learned to not let her emotions get the better of her. Why did she throw all of that away when she was with him?

"I don't pretend to understand what this is," he admitted. "When my wife died, I told myself that there was no one else. I told myself that I was destined to be alone forever and I'd accepted that. I was fine with that, but then you…working with you in that office…meeting you at the bar…it's not out of pity why I'm doing this, Elizabeth, it's because I'm drawn to you. There's something about you that I can't quite explain and that I don't quite understand."

"I don't think I've ever had anyone say that to me before," Elizabeth confessed to him. "I've never had this before."

"Then let's just see where it goes," he said. "There's no need to put any pressure on this."

"I guess not," Elizabeth confessed and he wondered if she did want something more. He didn't think that he'd be able to give her more, not truly. He was a lost soul and he didn't want her to tether herself to him. But then why had he gotten involved with her in the first place? It was foolish. He felt like he was swimming. At the moment, he was in familiar depths and territory, but he knew that wasn't going to last. He'd soon find himself out of his depth and then what? How did he handle that?

"But I'm here," he said. "And you're here."

And that much was true. Elizabeth guessed she could accept that for now. Besides, she wasn't going to stay around long enough for anything to develop.

…

Elizabeth had gone back to the apartment before her husband returned. She'd showered and changed into a skirt and a shirt, moving into the living room to read her book. Young-il had tried to persuade her to stay at his, but she didn't want Robert to get overly suspicious of what was going on with her. She was curled up on the sofa, the floor to ceiling glass windows showing the nightlife of Seoul in front of her. Elizabeth had her book open on her thigh, but she hadn't changed the page for almost half-an-hour. Her mind was still on Young-il. She kept thinking about their conversation earlier. She couldn't stop herself from thinking the 'what if'. What if they'd met in different circumstances? What if they'd met before Elizabeth had gotten married?

But he'd been married and he'd been happy. He'd had everything, but he'd lost it all. Elizabeth wasn't naïve enough to think that the two of them were going to walk off into the sunset together. She didn't want to talk about feelings. She didn't want to think about having feelings for him. It couldn't work out between them. They were just two lonely people coming together. She guessed loneliness sought companionship.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Robert's voice entered the apartment and she looked to the door. He dropped his holdall onto the floor. He was still dressed in a navy three-piece suit with a white shirt. Elizabeth forced her smile onto her face as he tugged on his tie and loosened it.

"Hey," she greeted him. "How was your trip?"

"Productive," he said to her. She'd gotten used to him not telling her about his work. He kept that to himself and Elizabeth didn't bother to push him. "And your day?"

"I went into the office for a few hours."

He chuckled darkly and went to the drink's cart by the piano next to the dining table with twelve seats around it. They rarely entertained and neither of them played the piano. It was purely there for show. He poured himself a glass of scotch and moved to the sofa. He sat down next to Elizabeth, an arm going over the back of the sofa where she was sat.

"Working on a Saturday? My wife is so dedicated," he said, but there was no pride in his voice. Elizabeth got the feeling that he was mocking her, but she wasn't going to say that. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said without missing a beat.

He moved his hand to her cheek, pinching it in his fingers and Elizabeth tried not to recoil from him and wince. She knew that he wouldn't be happy with her if she did. He'd look for any reason to lash out at her.

"The maid mentioned that you hadn't been home for a few nights," he commented. Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes. Of course, he wouldn't know their maid's name. Elizabeth had tried to come home when she had been in, but she knew that she'd missed her a few times. "Where have you been?"

"I've been working late," Elizabeth said and she wondered if he'd believe her. "I've been in the office until about one a.m. and then gone by six. I'm working on this old man's probate and it's quite complex. He was the CEO of a multi-million dollar company and had business in Japan, Indonesia and Taiwan. I've had to deal with laws I don't quite understand and work with lawyers from other firms so there's been time differences…I mean…probate isn't-"

"-As fascinating as that sounds," Robert interrupted with a drawl, "I don't want you working too hard, okay?"

Elizabeth wanted to ask him why not considering she paid the bill, but she bit her tongue. She knew that she'd be able to avoid suspicion because he never wanted to listen to her talk about her work. He found what she did boring, claiming that he'd rather watch paint dry than learn the law. She found it ironic considering that he could be in trouble with the law for what he'd been involved with.

"I'm not, I promise," Elizabeth said, the smile still on her face.

"Good girl," he whispered and leaned towards her. He kissed her on the lips and she could taste the mint from the gum he'd been chewing on. Elizabeth tried to kiss him back to keep him happy, but his hand went to her thigh and slipped under her skirt. She pulled back and pressed a hand to his, stopping it from wandering any higher.

She cocked her head and moved a hand to stroke his cheek. "I'm pretty tired," she said, hoping that would stop him.

"You just said you're not working too hard," he reminded her. "You shouldn't be tired if you're not working too hard."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," she continued lying to him, but it wasn't working. He moved his hands to her shirt, pulling the buttons open. Elizabeth tried to push herself back into the sofa and away from him. "Robert, come on, please."

"You're not tired," he said forcefully. "Come on, babe, it's been a while and you…well…you are my wife."

"I know, but maybe tomorrow."

And then the change in him happened. Elizabeth could see his face darken and she felt her heart begin to hammer against her chest. She knew that she was in trouble. Her shirt hung open around her and she moved to her feet, trying to diffuse the situation as quickly as she could.

"I'm going to head to bed," Elizabeth told him.

"Are you saying no to me?" Robert demanded from her and Elizabeth pulled her shirt around her. She stumbled backwards as Robert stood up and stalked towards her. He was still holding his glass of scotch and Elizabeth felt herself begin to shake. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to placate him. And then he threw the glass onto the floor by her feet. Elizabeth screamed in fear as the glass shattered around her and she jumped back.

"Robert, please," she tried to plead with him.

"You're my wife!" he shouted at her, grabbing her wrist and dragging her back to him. Elizabeth tried to prise herself free from him, but she couldn't. His grip on her was too tight. "You're supposed to put my needs first, but you never do. You run off and play independent woman, but you're never going to be that, Elizabeth. You think you're worth anything special? You're not. You're worthless without me. You're only role is to please me…so do your fucking job!"

Elizabeth didn't want to cry. She didn't want to sob until her throat was hoarse and her eyes were sore and red. But she didn't want this. She didn't want any of it. But as he forced her to the floor, she knew she couldn't fight him off of her and so she tried to think of something, anything, else.

…

He was about to go to bed after a night of planning the games. He had the paperwork on his coffee table in front of him and had been pouring over every detail. The recruitment was going well and would almost be complete. His salesmen had done well in different regions and no doubt they were waiting for their payment to come through. He'd tidied the paperwork up and locked it in the safe behind the panel at the back of the wardrobe when he heard his intercom buzz. His brow furrowed and he made sure the safe was locked before heading to look at the phone on the wall. He could see Elizabeth's face on the screen and he buzzed her in without saying anything. She opened the front door quickly and he unlocked his apartment door, holding it open and peering into the hallway, waiting to see her appear.

The elevator dinged on his floor and she stepped out of it. She had her head down and her face was obscured by her hair. He could see that there was a rip in her stockings and her shirt was also askew, not tucked in properly and also buttoned up wrong. Frowning, he was about to speak as she approached him, but then she stood in front of him and looked up, hair falling away from her face.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded from her.

Her eye was swollen and her lip was split. The purple bruise forming around her eye marred her skin and he could see dried blood on her chin. He wanted to know what had happened, but he didn't think that she could speak. She just looked him in the eye and finally broke down, letting herself cry in front of him. He didn't waste any time in dragging her into his apartment and wrapping her into his arms. She gladly accepted, her own arms slipping around his waist.

He stroked her hair down her back softly as she cried and he rested his cheek on the top of her head. He wanted to know what had happened, but at the same time he didn't. He worried what he might do if he did find out. He just held her for as long as she needed him to. He waited for her to tell him what had happened, giving her space. She finally seemed to stop crying, her tears drying up and her sniffling quietening down. He took her to the sofa then, making her sit down on it. He went to the kitchen and grabbed some ice from the freezer, wrapping the block into a towel.

Kneeling in front of her, he pressed the ice against her cheek, seeing her wince. His other hand lifted upwards and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You can't stay with him," he said to her.

"I know," she agreed with him on that. She knew that she couldn't stay with him, but she just needed to buy herself a bit more time.

"How could he do this to you?"

"He did it quite easily," Elizabeth said, voice low and croaky. "I…he came home and he started getting handsy. I told him that I was tired and wasn't in the mood. He didn't like that. He…I just laid there…and I waited for him to finish…but then he…he did this too."

He frowned at that. "He forced himself on you?"

"It's not the first time," Elizabeth admitted and he felt sick at hearing her tell him that. He couldn't imagine what she'd gone through and yet she was here. She'd chosen to come to him. She trusted him. "I told him that I was going to the office and he didn't seem bothered. I was going to go to the office, but I…I just found myself taking the subway here and I know it's not fair on you because this isn't part of what we do and I don't want to drag you into this-"

"-Stop," he interrupted her, voice firm but gentle. "I don't want to hear you speak like that, understood?"

"But it's not, is it?" Elizabeth replied. "None of this is fair on you."

"And is it fair on you?" he demanded to know from her. "It's not."

He took the ice from her cheek and he left it on the coffee table. He took hold of her hands inside of his, resting them on her lap. She peered down to him with wet eyes and he kissed the back of one of her hands. He wasn't going to leave her to that monster. He couldn't.

…

He had let her shower and freshen up after he'd insisted on her drinking something warm. He'd gone into the bedroom and waited for her to come out. She'd been wrapped up in one of his shirts that he'd leant her. It came down to her mid-thigh and was open to the top of her chest. She'd climbed into his bed and he'd just laid there, holding her in his arms and stroking her back as she kept her hands balled up against his chest.

"I lied before."

He knew that neither of them was sleeping. He doubted that either of them would fall asleep anytime soon. But they hadn't said anything. He didn't know what was going through her mind, but he didn't push her to speak to him. Instead, he just lay there in his pyjama bottoms, feeling her hands press against his bare chest.

And then she spoke into the darkness.

"What about?" he asked her, keeping his voice low.

"I…there is a plan," she said and she didn't know if she was being stupid, too trusting or living in hope that maybe he might help her if she needed him. Alternatively, he could ruin her if he told anyone, especially her husband. "To get away from him…I do have a plan."

"I figured as much," he replied. "You told me too."

"Not that," she said with a shake of her head and her hair tickled his chin as she did so. "I mean…I…I have a plan to ruin him. I'm going to frame him and I'm going to leave. I'm going to disappear."

He knew that she had been serious when she'd told him that she intended to frame him for her murder. He just hoped that didn't mean that she was actually thinking of ending her life. He nodded his head once and opened his eyes wide, glancing to the ceiling. He was now more awake than he had been a long time ago.

"How?"

Elizabeth had to admit that she had expected him to tell her that sounded like madness. She'd expected him to laugh at her and tell her not to be silly, but he didn't. He just kept holding her against him and she closed her eyes as she began to tell him the truth.

"He doesn't know that I got a pay rise at work months ago," Elizabeth said. "He knows my previous salary, but not the new one…so he just takes the same amount of money out of my account each month and I take the rest out as cash. It's somewhere he'd never look so I know it's safe. It's a substantial amount. I…the firm pay more for enhanced performance and considering I spent my life at work, I'm one of the highest billing associates. It's handy, really. I'd have had more of a nest egg, but he took a lot of it from earlier."

"You're sure it's safe?"

"Positive," she said confidently. "Working in a law firm in probate, you don't often encounter shady people, but even shady business people need to leave their assets to someone. I ended up meeting a guy who…well…I did his business and then I asked him to do something for me off the books…fake IDs…just what I'd need to get out of the country and start a new life somewhere else."

"Do you know how dangerous that is, Elizabeth?" he asked from her and Elizabeth knew that, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You can't trust people like that. How do you know he didn't betray you?"

"I couldn't ever know for sure, but I did cover up some…shall we say…not so legal paperwork so he owed me," Elizabeth said. "Mutually assured destruction, I guess, and that's why he hasn't told anyone. I mean, he could tell someone, but I don't think he ever will. I have the fake passport and IDs with the cash."

"And how can you be sure they're going look legit enough to get you out of the country?"

"Because I tried it when I flew to Thailand on business," Elizabeth said. "It worked. No one said anything. It's enough to get me away."

He had to admit that he wasn't convinced and he didn't particularly like the idea of her spending time with some questionable people, but that had been in the past. She'd done it and he couldn't go back and get her to change. He just let her keep going with her tale.

"But getting away from him isn't enough," Elizabeth confessed. "I want him to hurt like he's hurt me. I want him to rot away in a jail cell…be ostracised from society…lose his job…his friends…his reputation. I want him to have nothing and I want him to know that I was the one who did that to him. He took my life from me and I want to take his from him. And I want my family and friends to know what he was really like. I want them to spend their rest of their lives feeling guilty because they never helped me…I want them to hate themselves because I hate them. And I know that might sound too strong, but I do hate them. I hate all of them for not listening to me or taking me seriously. And I know that's fucked up. I know feeling like this isn't healthy and it won't bring me peace. I know it won't bring me peace, but what if peace isn't what I want? What if revenge is what I want? Is that so bad? Does that make me a bad person?"

And there it all was. The venom in her voice was palpable. It was seeping through her and consuming her. He knew it because he felt it in his own life. He felt the bitterness that she felt.

Elizabeth half-expected him to push her away in disgust, tell her that she was crazy and psychotic. She expected him to tell her to leave and never come back. He didn't want anything to do with her and her deranged plan. But he just laid in silence beside her. She counted the seconds, waiting for him to say something, waiting for whatever was going on between them to be over. Finally, he moved her from his arms and she knew this was it. She'd ruined the only good thing she had in her life.

But he didn't tell her to go. Instead, he let her lay flat on the mattress and he propped himself onto his elbow, holding his head in his hand. He moved a hand to her neck, stroking along it softly, thumb tickling her skin and he looked over her face, gaze flickering over her bruises before landing back on her sea green eyes.

"How would you do it?" he asked her and she swallowed hard.

"I've been planning it for months," she whispered, almost too scared to speak loudly, like someone might overhear them. "There's the hospital reports that were covered up…at work…my PA…she knows, even though I haven't said anything to her. She'd seen me crying just when I want her to…been in the bathroom at the same time as her when I've been covering up my bruises. Then there's the emails I've been writing to my parents, begging them to come and get me in my drafts…emails I've been too scared to send in case Robert sees them. I know it's all very Gone Girl, but it seems effective."

She had been plotting it for such a long time. He could tell that much.

"I've been to the doctor for months, claiming that I can't sleep. He suspects something is wrong too, but he gives me sleeping tablets for the nights I can't rest. I haven't been taking them. I don't want to be out of it when Robert comes home," she said to him. "But then on the night when I do it, we need to be away…in a hotel…somewhere remote with no CCTV. Robert needs to be there so I can put them in his drink. He'll be out of it and I'll run then, but leave enough clues behind. He'd need to report me missing. How could he not? Plus, I wouldn't turn up to work and that would look suspicious. But there would be signs…blood that I can leave behind and messily clean up…my bank account statements showing money going to him. I have his betting slips too. The police would find the blood. They'd find the betting slips. And there would be no body. But it would be assumed that Robert had done something."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, not really. She had thought everything through. She had it all planned out and he could see that there had been months of planning that had gone into it. He was almost impressed.

"Go on," she urged from him.

His face scrunched up in confusion at that.

"What?" he wondered from her.

"Tell me that I'm crazy," she encouraged. "Tell me that it's ridiculous and that I'm a maniac."

"Why would I do that?" he asked her. "You're not a maniac and it's not ridiculous. You've been driven to this, Elizabeth. You've been driven to the brink and I can see that. I understand it."

"But what I've just told you is…I know it's not right," Elizabeth admitted to him. "Wanting people to suffer-"

"-People who have let you suffer," he interrupted her. "Those people should suffer just like you have because humanity…is this what it is? Is this what people become? People who stand back and let others live in pain?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth admitted to him. "And the irony is that I never wanted the wealth Robert had. I never wanted any of that. I'd have been happy being poor and living in an apartment in downtown Chicago…having fast food as a meal out instead of five course meals in expensive restaurants. I never wanted any of that. I just wanted him, but he never wanted me, not really. And his debts…his gambling…it's not the only thing that has pushed us apart, but I wonder if things might've been different if he didn't get into debt."

He was quiet for a second because he knew what money did to people. He was well aware of the impact that it had on those who were desperate for it. He'd been one of those people before and he hated what it had done to him too.

"And you want to go through with this?" he double-checked with her.

He brushed his fingers against her hair on the pillow underneath her.

"Want? No," she said. "I wish things were different, but they're not. Things aren't different and this is…I don't want to do it, I need to do it."

And he saw that this was her desperation. This was her way out.

"And were you ever going to tell me?" he questioned, eyes scanning for any sign of her lying to him. He could see her eyes scrunch up for a moment and her gaze flicker to the side. And he knew the answer. "You weren't."

"I didn't want to drag you into my mess."

"And if I wanted to be dragged into your mess?" he asked from her.

"But I don't know why you would want to be," she retorted and he guessed that was the square one question. Why was he so invested in her life.

"I don't have the why, Elizabeth," he confessed to her. "Don't ask me why, just accept that I do."

And she wanted to. She wanted to accept it and she guessed that she had to now that she'd told him everything. He moved over her and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there for longer than he'd intended. He laid on his back again and moved his arm around her shoulders, bringing her against him once more. Elizabeth felt a sense of relief that he hadn't pushed her away in revulsion.

"There might be another way," he finally said to her, feeling her press her front against his side tightly. She slipped a leg between his, clinging to him. "A way that doesn't involve you running away."

"How?" she asked him, not convinced that it was possible.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her.

It was a loaded question. How could she trust a man who she'd only known for just over a month? But she'd bared herself to him in ways that she'd never bared herself to anyone else before. She'd told him things about herself, her darkest secrets, and he had not once turned her away. He'd been there for her through everything. He was the only one she trusted in her life and she didn't entirely know why she trusted him.

"Yes," she whispered against his neck. "I trust you."

"Then just give me some time," he urged from her. "You don't need to go back to him. You can stay here. He won't find you. Stay here and just…let me help you, Elizabeth. We can work this out together."

"You think so?" she asked him.

"I know so," he replied. "I just need you to trust me."

"Just…promise me that this is real. I need that."

He squeezed her around her shoulders. "I promise," he said to her. "Besides, you're not a woman I'd mess with."

He hoped that had made her smile just a little bit, but he didn't move her to see. He just felt her kiss his shoulder before leaning back into him. "I want to kill him," she whispered.

"I know," he told her. "I know, darling."

He didn't know where that had come from, but it had just slipped out. She didn't complain. She just stayed where she was and he urged her to get some sleep, promising her that he wouldn't leave. He figured that she was going to call into work sick the next day. He doubted there was any chance she could go there after what had happened earlier in the night. He just kissed her on the top of her head and laid there in a silent rage.

He wanted to kill her husband for what he'd done. The thought of him laying a hand on her made him feel queasy. He wanted him to suffer. He wanted him to know real pain. He wanted him to live in fear. He wanted Elizabeth to see him for who he was, nothing but a greedy, insect of a man who would do whatever it took for money to clear his debts and let him keep gambling. He wanted her to relish him living in panic. And that was why he knew he had to get him to the island. He had to get him into the games to give Elizabeth her revenge.

And he wanted to give her it. He wanted her to have it, no matter the risk to him.

"Let the games begin," he whispered once she was asleep and he closed his eyes, his mind still whirling with all the possibilities that the games could bring.