Springtime for the Wild Rose

He’s an old, rotten scoundrel, smiling sweetly on the outside, with nothing but knives in his heart. All he does is hold me at night and call me “baby.” But the people who bully me one by one end up disgraced, in jail, or fired. He’s the gentle, devoted husband type, asking for kisses as soon as he gets home and doing it all, from cooking to childcare. But every jerk I come across mysteriously disappears one after another: the trainer who groped my thigh runs off over unpaid debts, the sleazy driving instructor who took liberties with me lands behind bars, and even the ex who pursued me gets his clinic shut down. Then I sneak a look at his phone. His latest message reads: “Handled. All photos deleted. She won’t find out.” He turns and smiles at me. “Baby, you haven’t kissed me today.” At that moment, my brain short-circuits. It turns out my lips are his ignition switch. One kiss, and he destroys every malicious thing aimed at me. No kiss, and I’m the only one he has any malice for. We’re locked in for good. Who would dare divorce him? I thought Heaven was finally looking out for me, until I found this on his phone: “Make her afraid, but only of me.” A chill runs down my spine. He smiles and kisses the corner of my mouth. “What’s wrong? Not feeling clingy today?” It turns out that kiss I give him every day after work isn’t an act of affection. It’s protection money. If I don’t pay, he uses my weakness to build me a cage. Sweet? Sweet to the bone, and so suspenseful it makes your scalp tingle.