Chapter 4

The next day, Nathan booked out the Grand Summit Hotel for two events in one: our 22nd wedding anniversary and his fan meet-and-greet.

The ballroom was packed with reporters, airline executives, sponsors, and hundreds of his fans.

Before we left, he helped me into a white gown, fastened pearl earrings on me, and slipped two documents into my hands: an apology statement and a voluntary consent form for psychiatric treatment.

"Tonight, I'll tell everyone about your condition.

"Then you'll go on stage, admit you lost control during the livestream, apologize to the airline, our sponsors, and Amber, and sign the consent form for inpatient treatment."

"And if I refuse?"

He rested his hands on my shoulders, his voice gentle. "Every media outlet here has already been told you'll be checking yourself into treatment.

"Viv, you have two choices. Walk onto that stage yourself or let the doctors take you there."

When we arrived, they locked me inside a backstage dressing room. Four bodyguards stood outside the door.

The gala began. Nathan stepped onto the stage in his captain's uniform, his eyes shining with emotion.

"Today, I have something painful to share. My wife, Vivian, has been diagnosed with severe paranoid personality disorder."

A psychiatric evaluation flashed across the giant screen, complete with fake credentials and forged signatures.

"She accused me of cheating, attacked my colleague, and suffered an episode during the livestream.

"But she's been my side for 22 years. Even if one day she no longer remembers who I am, I'll stay by her side through every step of her treatment."

Thunderous applause filled the hall. The livestream flooded with comments praising him as a devoted husband.

Then he looked toward the backstage entrance. "Today, she's agreed to come forward, explain everything herself, and begin treatment with all of you as witnesses."

A spotlight lit up the backstage entrance.

At the same moment, the bodyguards entered my dressing room with two men in white coats. "Read the statement," one of them said. "Then sign."

I didn't even reach for it. "What if I don't?"

One of the men opened a medical case. Inside were leather restraints, medication, and several syringes.

"If you refuse now," he said calmly, "it only proves your condition is more serious than we believed."

The host called my name for the second time.

Nathan finally lost his patience and stormed backstage. "Vivian, don't force me to disgrace you publicly."

"And who's the one who's being disgraced here?"

His expression darkened. "Hold her down."

Four bodyguards pinned me to the table, wrenching my swollen fingers behind my back.

"This is false imprisonment!"

He sneered. "Who would believe a mental patient? The more you resist, the more you prove I'm telling the truth."

Sienna walked in crying, holding medication. "Mom, Dad said once you take this, you'll feel calm."

"Sienna, have you ever seen me hurt anyone?"

She froze.

Nathan immediately pulled her to his side. "Your mother knows exactly how to manipulate people. Have you forgotten what she did to Amber?"

Tears rolled down Sienna's cheeks as she shook her head. "Mom... I'm sorry. I just want you to get better."

One of the bodyguards grabbed my jaw and tried to pour the medicine down my throat. I snapped my head sideways. The liquid splashed across Nathan's uniform.

He dropped the act entirely and picked up a syringe.

Sienna turned pale. "Dad... I thought she only needed the medicine."

"Can't you see she's having another episode?" he snapped. "She'll never make it onto that stage without the injection."

He bent close enough for only me to hear. "Once the sedative takes effect, I'll personally walk you out there. All you have to do is press your thumbprint on the consent form, and tonight will be over. After you're admitted, I'll take good care of Sienna."

I stopped struggling and looked at him coldly.

"Nathan... do you really think the only thing I did for the last 22 years was cook your meals and do your laundry?"

His smile froze.

I kicked out hard, sending the cup flying off the table.

The bodyguards pinned me down again as Nathan raised the syringe toward my arm.

Outside, the host called my name for the third time. No one appeared. Confused whispers spread through the ballroom.

"Inject her," Nathan ordered. "Then get her on that stage."

The needle had just touched my skin when the giant screen suddenly went black.

A heartbeat later, Nathan's voice thundered through the speakers.

"If you refuse now, it only proves your condition is more serious than we believed.

"Once the sedative takes effect, I'll personally walk you out there. All you have to do is press your thumbprint on the consent form, and tonight will be over."

The entire ballroom fell silent.

Nathan froze, the syringe still clutched in his hand.