Exposing His Bet at Our Wedding

On the day I was officially declared in remission from anorexia, Calvin handed me a keycard.

"Naomi, you're the rose I spent three years nursing back to life," he said, his voice wrapped in that familiar, velvet warmth. "Tonight, I want to make you mine."

I arrived at the hotel with my heart fluttering in my throat, breathless with anticipation.

I pushed the door open. Before I could even register the dim lighting, a two-hundred-pound man lunged out of the shadows, slamming me violently to the floor.