Before the Jacobson family’s downfall, Anathea had been Adam Jacobson’s cherished only daughter. As the child of a high-ranking government official, she’d grown up pampered, untouched by hardship.

Yet, after marrying Gregory, she’d been treated like nothing more than a maid. And now, she’d been sold to a place like this to entertain clients.

No. Anathea would never accept this fate.

“I’m Gregory Sinclair’s wife! If you dare touch me, he won’t let you off!” Anathea shouted.

Even now, she clung to the hope that Gregory’s name could protect her and get her out of this nightmare.

“You’re Mrs. Sinclair?” The woman, Melissa Stewart, laughed like she’d just heard the best joke of her life.

Her tone dripped with mockery as she continued, “If you’re Mrs. Sinclair, then I must be the governor’s wife! Everyone knows Mr. Sinclair is still single. And you dare call yourself his wife? Are you delusional?”

Anathea opened her mouth to argue but found herself speechless.

Gregory had never acknowledged her publicly. Even their marriage felt like something meant to be kept in the dark. No one would believe she was his wife.

Just when Anathea thought she couldn’t feel worse, Melissa added, “Let me tell you something. This place is full of mistresses and lovers rich men have grown tired of.

“They send them here to be played with by other distinguished guests in exchange for an easier climb to the top. Who knows? Maybe your man is the one who sold you off.”

The words hit Anathea like a bolt of lightning, shaking her to her core.

No. That was impossible. Gregory wouldn’t do that.

He might hate her, but she was still Xander’s mother.

Besides, in the heat of the moment, he’d whispered her name in the dark. He couldn’t be that heartless.

And yet, Frankie’s words echoed in her mind. “Our boss said we can do whatever we want with you.”

Anathea clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

“Hurry up and change! The VIP guest is waiting!” Melissa grabbed Anathea’s collar impatiently, yanking her up.

“No!” Anathea didn’t know where she found the strength, but she shoved Melissa away and bolted out of the private room.

“Bitch! Get back here!” Melissa screeched, chasing after her.

Anathea ran like a fugitive, desperate to escape this hell.

She had to find Gregory. She had to ask him herself if this was his doing. Did he truly hate her that much?

Anathea had no idea how far she ran, but eventually, exhaustion caught up with her. She stumbled and fell hard. Pain shot through her knee as it swelled up, forcing her to suck in a sharp breath.

She struggled to get up.

“Greg, try this.”

A familiar voice floated from a nearby private room. It was Natalie.

And the “Greg” she was speaking to…

Anathea’s breath hitched. She anxiously fixed her gaze on the narrow gap of the private room’s door.

Through the narrow opening, she saw Gregory’s figure inside, just as she’d expected. Her eyes lit up. She lifted her hand to push the door open.

“Ms. Whitman, can I call you Mommy Nat?” Xander’s small voice cut through the air.

Mommy Nat? Nat…

Anathea stood frozen, as if struck by lightning.

So all those nights when Gregory had whispered “Nat” in the dark, he hadn’t been calling for her. He’d been calling for Natalie.

She was nothing more than a substitute he used to vent his longing for the woman he couldn’t have.

At that moment, Anathea felt as if all the strength had been drained from her. Her raised hand fell limply, landing on the floor for support.

“Of course, Xander. You can call me whatever you like.” Natalie smiled sweetly before turning to Gregory with a hint of worry. “Greg, Ms. Jacobson has been gone for a day. Could something have happened to her?”

“Why are you bringing her up?” Gregory frowned. His voice was cold and indifferent. “No one cares if she lives or dies.”