Betrayed by My Trash Husband, Surrender Myself to the Devil-Chapter 20: Snake Den (III)

Claudia POV

"I didn’t know you had the same taste as I did back in university," I commented while my eyes kept wandering around. "I remember telling you about my dream of owning a Japanese-style penthouse. Did you take inspiration from it or—"

Ray suddenly stopped in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder and glared at me as if I had said something offensive.

"Don’t think too highly of yourself, Claudia. You are not that special for me to cater to your silly dreams from more than a decade ago," Ray retorted. "I bought this penthouse for convenience, and it came with this Japanese-style design. I don’t have time to renovate it, so I just left it as it is."

"R-right... sorry..." I apologized immediately. My ears and cheeks must have been red from embarrassment.

Thinking about it again, we had only dated for a year and then cut contact for more than ten years. I wouldn’t leave a lasting impression on someone like him—someone who could easily find a prettier and richer woman, especially from his own wealth bracket.

Perhaps after our breakup, he had already forgotten about me entirely.

Or maybe he remembered me from time to time—but only the memories of me talking trash about him, insulting him and his family, and cursing him to die alone because his heart was made of cold metal.

Ah, if only I could turn back time, I would’ve slapped my younger self and told her to break up with him amicably. Because Ray had become very hostile toward me now.

As I was busy imagining all the "what if" scenarios between Ray and me, my face suddenly hit something solid, like a wall.

"Ouch—"

I staggered a few steps back and realized I had bumped into his back when he stopped walking.

"Sit wherever you like," he instructed before walking into another room.

We were currently in the living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing the beautiful night view of downtown Los Angeles from above.

Instead of sitting obediently, I walked toward the window and looked down.

The night view here was truly incredible, or dare I say, luxurious. It reminded me of the time I told Ray I’d love to sip a glass of expensive wine while looking at downtown Los Angeles at night from my own penthouse.

Ray might not have chosen this place because of me, but at least I still got to see this incredible view.

"I told you to sit, didn’t I?"

I turned around when I heard his voice. He had returned from what I assumed was his home office, holding a suspicious-looking document in his hand.

My gut told me whatever was inside that document wouldn’t be pleasant. Still, I suppressed the bad feeling and gave a thin smile.

"Sorry, I was just admiring the view. It’s not often that I get to see something like this."

"You act like you didn’t live in a nicer neighborhood before," Ray scoffed as he walked toward the table. "But if that’s all it takes to make you stay in this apartment, then be my guest."

I scowled at that and couldn’t help retorting, "Why do I have to stay with you anyway? Why would you house a woman who has no significant role in your life? You should bring your girlfriend here instead."

The thin smile on Ray’s lips vanished instantly.

He didn’t respond to my words. Instead, he slammed the document onto the table.

"Read it."

I was ready to argue again, but Ray had always been like this, he disliked arguments and ignored any disagreement I voiced.

We were simply too different to ever have worked out. Though I doubted any sane woman could love this man wholeheartedly.

Since he refused to argue, I swallowed my frustration and walked to the table.

I picked up the document. Before reading it, I asked, "What is this about?"

"Your contract," he replied as he sat down, staring at me with his dark green eyes, which looked even scarier under the dim desk lamp.

"My... contract? Wait, are you serious about this contract stuff?"

"I never take back my words, Claudia," Ray said. "When you begged me to write you down as mentally sane, I risked my credibility as a psychiatrist. So the price you pay will be hefty."

"Why don’t you read it first and see what kind of contract we’ll have?" Ray continued. "Whether you like it or not—that’s not up to you. This is merely a formality."

Once again, Ray threatened me in such a calm demeanor that it made him far scarier than someone shouting in my face.

In fact, the feeling he gave me was the same as it had been a decade ago. Being around him was like standing still while a snake crept closer. Second by second, it slithered from my heel up to my thigh.

Of course, it sounded ridiculous. But I liked to think I had strong survival instincts, and my instincts were screaming that something was very, very wrong with Ray Gatlin.

Nevertheless, I opened the document and began reading.

But after reading the title, I immediately lifted my head and stared at him in shock.

The document was titled:

Pet Contract.

"W-what is this, Ray?" I asked.

"It’s exactly what you read. A binding pet contract between us," Ray reaffirmed. "By signing it, you will become my lab rat. You are obliged to offer your body to me for experimentation. I may do whatever I want to your body, as long as it does not cause physical harm."

"You are obliged to stay by my side, which means you will live in this penthouse with me and accompany me whenever I travel for business outside California. On top of that, you are forbidden from being involved with another man, because I do not want my lab rat contaminated by another man’s scent."

"And this contract has no fixed duration. I alone will decide when it ends."