Cruel Captive Experiment on My Anniversary Chapter 02

Cruel Captive Experiment on My Anniversary Chapter 02 The Unlocked Secret

Before I could process the betrayal, the door burst open. A horde of journalists swarmed the room.

Their lenses aimed at my sickly face like weapons. The camera flashes were blinding.

“Mrs. Cross! Rumor has it you volunteered for the animal experiment just to hurt them? Is that true?”

“People say you were locked up with those animals for thirty days and never stopped moaning. Was that, you know, instinct—or a kink?”

“Be honest, Mrs. Cross—how does a bored housewife with such… exotic preferences land a brilliant man like Prof. Cross?”

Their questions were a volley of knives.

Some even tried to yank my blanket away to expose my disfigured legs to their cameras.

I curled on the hospital bed, trembling like a wounded animal.

On the live stream, comments scrolled in a vicious torrent:

[She probably enjoyed it.]

[Locked up? More like she locked herself in. Freak.]

[And honestly? Not even that pretty. How does she deserve Prof. Cross?]

Shame and rage washed through me, leaving my limbs weak. Tears blurred the cruel words.

Finally, Adrian and Ethan made their entrance—my “rescuers”, shooing out the reporters.

They tucked in my blanket with performative care, and told the nurses to take good care of me.

As Adrian turned to leave, his phone slipped from his pocket.

I waited for the door to close before reaching for it. The screen lit up—a photo of Lydia, beaming between Adrian and Ethan. Like a perfect family.

Lydia—my own younger sister.

A memory surfaced—early in our marriage, I’d begged him to use a couples’ app that logged every little ‘love moment’.

He refused, calling it childish. Now, his refusal at that time felt like a prophecy. I thought that was when the marriage started to crack.

I opened the app and typed Lydia Vale. Their shared world unfolded before me.

Every year, they took a two-month trip abroad. Every year, I stayed behind—grounded by some “emergency” that always seemed to appear at just the right time.

Last year, I’d begged to see the aurora. He’d said work was impossible to leave.

But the app showed photos of him and Lydia wrapped under the shimmering aurora, counting stars.

When Ethan was little, I wanted a family cruise. Severely seasick, he claimed.

Here they were, laughing on a yacht, chasing dolphins.

Then I saw it. The final, gutting blow. The ruby necklace around Lydia’s throat.

I’d thought it was my anniversary gift. Turned out it was her birthday present.

I opened their group chat. It was a shrine to their devotion to Lydia:

“Auntie, you don’t have to stress about your thesis anymore. Dad and I have a birthday gift for you — an animal-behavior study, using my mom as the test subject. We documented every reaction she had while being locked up with the animals.”

“Lydia, with this, the tenured position is yours. And when you get it… marry me.”

“Yeah, Auntie. I really wish you were my mom.”

I switched off the phone. The tears fell then, silent and ceaseless.

Fine. I would leave.

My eyes fell on the research authorization form glowing on the screen—the surprise I had prepared for Adrian tomorrow. An anniversary gift.

Now it was a witness to my own blindness.

With trembling hands, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years.

“The confidentiality period is over. Reinstate my identity. Now.”