My Husband’s Bestie Wants to “Unlock” Him on Our Wedding Night On our wedding night, my husband, Ryan Peterson, knelt before me in his pristine suit, begging me for just one thing. He wanted me to call his female best friend, Blair Hayes, who he’d practically grown up with, claiming only she could “unlock” him. Only then, he insisted, could we truly be together. His eyes were bloodshot, his handsome face etched with pleading, as if *I* were the villain destroying their sacred bond. I stared at him, and a bitter laugh bubbled up. Before the wedding, Blair had said, half-joking, in front of everyone: “Chloe, Ryan’s first time was actually mine. Hope you don’t mind, sweetie.” Back then, I thought it was just a joke. Now, it seems I was just incredibly naive. 0 “Chloe, please, just this once. After this, I’ll do anything you say.” Ryan was on his knees on our million-dollar wedding bed, clutching my hand. His grip was so tight it felt like he was trying to crush my bones. His handsome face was slick with sweat. His eyes held no desire, only a desperate, almost broken plea. We had just finished our wedding, the guests’ blessings still echoing in my ears. But in our meticulously decorated bridal suite, the atmosphere was colder than a freezer. “Ryan, say that again.” I wrenched my hand free, my voice low but dripping with ice. He seemed to miss the danger in my tone, instead clinging to it like a lifeline, repeating urgently: “Chloe, please call Blair. She said she has a way… she said she can help me ‘unlock’ myself. You know, I… I’m a little nervous, and I don’t want our first time to be anything less than perfect.” “Unlock?” I chewed on the word, finding it both absurd and utterly disgusting. “Unlock what? Ryan, are you losing your mind or am I hearing things? Tonight is our wedding night!” “It’s a psychological lock!” He was sweating profusely, agitated. “I… I have a bit of a psychological block, and only Blair can guide me through it! Chloe, we’ve been together for years, how can you bear to see me like this?” Looking at him, a chilling dread seeped into my bones, shooting straight up to my scalp. We were college sweethearts, together for five years. He was the universally acclaimed model boyfriend – gentle, attentive, from a wealthy family, almost always accommodating to my every whim. The only exception was Blair. Blair was his childhood bestie, a woman who lived by her own rules, more unrestrained than most men. She knew her way around a cigarette and a shot glass, and always had guys wrapped around her finger. Ryan always claimed his friendship with Blair was pure, closer than siblings. I used to believe him. Until that bachelorette party before the wedding. Blair got drunk, drunkenly slung an arm around my neck and said, half-joking, half-serious: “Chloe, Ryan’s first time was actually mine. We were just experimenting back then, hope you don’t mind.” My friends all thought it was a joke. Even Ryan just laughed it off, patting her on the back and saying she was drunk and talking nonsense. But that comment had lodged itself deep in my mind, a tiny, annoying thorn. Now, that thorn wasn’t just lodged there; it was churning wildly, tearing me apart from the inside. “So, what you’re saying is, without Blair, you can’t touch me tonight? Is that it?” I stared into his eyes, enunciating each word slowly. Ryan evaded my gaze, his lips moving for what felt like an eternity before he finally whimpered: “Chloe, it’s not what you think! Just help me out this once, okay?” Help him? I was trembling with rage, reaching for the red wine glass on the table, ready to splash it across his handsome face. But before I could even move, the doorbell chimed, sharp and sudden. Ryan’s eyes lit up, as if he’d heard the sweetest sound. He scrambled off the bed and rushed to open the door. “Blair, you finally came!” Standing outside was indeed Blair. She was clad in a tight black leather outfit, accentuating her fierce figure. A slender lady’s cigarette dangled from her lips, its crimson glow flickering at her fingertips. She didn’t even look at Ryan. Her gaze swept past him and landed squarely on me. That look, it was as if she was seeing a loser who had dared to take her place. She took the cigarette from her mouth, slowly blew a smoke ring towards Ryan’s face, her voice languid and intimate. “What, can’t manage without me?” 0
In front of Blair, Ryan was like a puppy begging for a treat, nodding frantically: “No, Blair, I really can’t. Please, you have to help me.” Blair sauntered into the room, making herself at home as if this were her own territory. She took off her leather gloves, tossing them casually onto the entryway cabinet. Her eyes scanned my carefully chosen wedding decorations, a faint, almost imperceptible sneer playing on her lips. “Chloe, looks like you’re not as capable as you think, can’t even handle your own husband.” She walked right up to me, looking triumphant, her contempt undisguised. I sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing my expensive silk nightgown, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Blair, this is my room, my wedding night. Please leave.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my trembling fingertips betrayed my fury. “Your room?” Blair scoffed as if I’d said the funniest thing. She turned to Ryan. “Ryan, tell her. Who bought this house?” Ryan’s face flushed crimson, then drained of color. He stammered: “Blair, don’t… don’t be like this…” “Like what?” Blair cut him off, her voice suddenly turning ice-cold. “When you bought this house, who dragged you to every corner of the city? Who helped you with the interior design? What did Chloe do, besides move her bags in?” With every word, she took another step closer to me. “Even the engagement ring you gave her, *I* helped you pick out. Ryan, what do you even have without me?” Ryan hung his head, unable to meet her gaze, like a scolded child. It all became clear to me then. This wasn’t some bullshit “unlocking.” This was a blatant, outright humiliation. Blair wanted to use the most brutal method on my most important day to show me who truly held power over Ryan. “Are you done?” I stood up. Though half a head shorter than Blair, I refused to let her intimidate me. “When you’re done, get out.” “What did you say?” Blair narrowed her eyes, a dangerous aura radiating from her. “I said, get out.” I walked up to her, meeting her gaze head-on. “No matter who bought this house, the deed now bears Ryan’s name and mine. I am the lady of this house, and I have every right to tell you to leave.” I paused, then turned to the trembling man. “And you, Ryan. Either you make her leave now, or you can leave with her.” The air instantly froze. Ryan stared at me in disbelief, clearly not expecting such a definitive statement from a woman he thought was always docile. Blair was stunned for a moment, then let out a derisive laugh. She reached out and patted Ryan’s cheek, an intimately possessive gesture, like soothing a pet. “Tsk, tsk. Look at you, married and suddenly got wings. Ryan, choose. Are you going to listen to your wife, or to me?” She threw the choice at Ryan, utterly certain he would pick her. Ryan’s face shifted through shades of uncertainty in the lamplight. He looked at me, then at Blair, his forehead beaded with sweat. When he was nervous, he always unconsciously rubbed the wedding band on his ring finger – the one Blair had helped him pick out. The few seconds of silence felt like an eternity. Finally, he slowly lifted his head, looked at me, and spoke in a hoarse voice: “Chloe, don’t make a scene. Let Blair help me… just this once.” My heart, in that moment, plummeted to rock bottom. “Fine.” I nodded, a bright smile spreading across my face. “Since you need her so much, I’ll make sure you have her.” I walked to the door, pulled it open, and gestured outside. “The bed’s all yours. I’ll close the door behind me. Have a happy wedding night, you two.” With that, under their stunned gaze, I slammed the bridal suite door shut with a resounding *bang*. I locked that pair of dogs inside. 0
I didn’t go far. I leaned against the cold hallway wall, listening to the commotion inside. At first, it was Ryan’s startled shouts and Blair’s curses, then their frantic pounding on the door. “Chloe! Open the door! Are you crazy!” Ryan’s voice held a hint of anger. “What the hell is wrong with you! Chloe, open this door!” That was Blair’s voice, still arrogant. I smirked, pulled out my phone, and opened a SnapChat group called “Loving Family.” It contained all of Ryan’s relatives, including his notoriously image-conscious parents. I took a deep breath, composed a message, and hit send. “Aunt and Uncle, dear relatives, I apologize for disturbing you so late. Ryan and my wedding has encountered a small unexpected incident. Ryan… he might need some special assistance to complete our wedding night, so he invited his good friend Miss Blair Hayes to our bridal suite. I believe such a wonderful event should be shared with everyone, so I’ve decided to let them have the bridal suite to ‘deepen their bond.’ Good night, everyone.” The moment the message went out, the group exploded. Dozens of unread messages flashed wildly, but I ignored them, switching my phone to silent. Then, I dialed the hotel front desk. “Hello, I’m Chloe, room 1808. Two people I don’t know have entered my room and locked me out. I suspect they are intruders. Please send security immediately to handle this. Thank you.” After doing all that, I finally felt the knot of rage in my chest ease a little. Soon, hotel security and the manager arrived. They looked at me, the bride still in her nightgown, with expressions of shock and sympathy. The pounding from inside the room continued; Ryan’s angry shouts had turned into desperate pleas. “Chloe, I’m sorry, please open the door! What will people think if they see us like this!” I spread my hands to the manager, an innocent look on my face. “Manager, you hear that? They’re still threatening me in there. I’m so scared.” The manager, a sensible middle-aged man, immediately signaled security to use their master key card to open the door. The moment the door swung open, I deliberately stepped back, giving the security guards and the manager the best vantage point. Ryan was standing at the doorway, his shirt half-unbuttoned. Blair, meanwhile, was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking annoyed, the unsmoked cigarette still between her fingers. The scene was as intimate as it was scandalous, as awkward as it was ugly. “Mr. Peterson, Mrs. Peterson, what in the—” The hotel manager’s expression was priceless. Ryan’s face instantly drained of all color. He never in his wildest dreams imagined I would blow things up this spectacularly. Blair, however, was calmer than him. She stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. She calmly adjusted her leather outfit, looking at me with eyes like poisoned daggers. “Chloe, you’re ruthless.” “Compliment accepted.” I smiled back. “Compared to you two, I still have a long way to go.” Just then, Ryan’s phone began to ring furiously. He answered with a trembling hand, and his father’s furious roar could be heard clearly throughout the entire hallway. “Ryan Peterson! You animal! Look at what you’ve done in the family group chat! You and that Blair, now, immediately, get home!” Ryan’s legs buckled, almost sending him to his knees. He hung up, looking at me in utter despair, muttering: “It’s over… everything’s over…” Blair’s face finally changed too. She might not care about Ryan, but she cared about the Peterson family’s power and money. She strode quickly to me, lowering her voice, gritting her teeth. “You think this wins you anything? Chloe, you’re too naive. Ryan can’t live without me, never will.” With that, she grabbed a still-stunned Ryan and, under everyone’s bewildered stares, fled in shame. Watching their desperate retreat, I felt no thrill of victory, only an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and sorrow. I returned to the bridal suite, which now felt completely defiled. The air still reeked of Blair’s cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. I walked to the bedside table and picked up our wedding photo. In the picture, Ryan smiled gently, and I was beaming with happiness. How utterly ironic. I didn’t hesitate, smashing the frame violently to the floor. The sound of shattering glass felt like a eulogy for five years of my youth. 0
I woke up the next morning in another hotel room. My phone was flooded with missed calls and unread messages—from Ryan, from his parents. And from some gossip-hungry relatives. I didn’t reply to a single one, blocking all of Ryan’s contacts directly. Then, I called my lawyer friend. “Hey, Jessica, can you draft a divorce agreement for me?” Jessica was silent for a few seconds, then erupted with incredible energy: “Holy crap! Chloe, you finally came to your senses? Is that dog Ryan messing around with his ‘best friend’ again? I knew there was something fishy between them! Hang on, I’ll send you the most badass divorce agreement ever, I promise he’ll walk away with absolutely nothing!” After hanging up, I felt a huge weight lift from my chest. Divorce was the only way out. I didn’t want any more entanglement with those two. In the afternoon, I went back to “our” bridal suite to collect my belongings. The apartment was empty. But by the entryway, Blair’s black leather gloves were still lying there, as if staking her claim. I put on disposable gloves, picked up the gloves with distaste, and tossed them straight into the trash. While packing my personal items, I discovered a locked drawer in Ryan’s study. I’d never paid attention to it before, but now, the locked drawer seemed exceptionally suspicious. I found tools and, without a moment’s hesitation, pried the lock open. Inside, there were no love letters or ambiguous gifts as I might have imagined. Only an old USB drive and a small velvet box. I opened the box. Inside was a unique men’s earring, set with a black diamond. It looked familiar. I suddenly remembered that Blair had an identical piercing in her right earlobe, though she rarely wore earrings. A bad feeling crept into my heart. I plugged the USB drive into my laptop. There was only one video file on it, the filename a string of dates. I clicked play. The footage was a bit shaky, like it was secretly recorded. The background seemed to be a university art studio. Ryan and Blair were both in it, looking much younger than they did now. In the video, Blair held a utility knife, pressing it against her wrist, her eyes wild and obsessive. “Ryan, you promised me! You’d always listen to me! Are you going back on your word for Chloe now?” Ryan was on his knees, sobbing and begging her: “Blair, don’t do this, I’m scared… I truly like Chloe, can’t we just be normal friends?” “Normal friends?” Blair sneered. “I’ve done so much for you, and now you call us normal friends? Have you forgotten who helped you fake depression to stay when your parents wanted to send you abroad? Have you forgotten who knelt before the dean when you were disciplined by the school? Ryan, you are my dog! If I tell you to go east, do you dare to go west?” She lightly grazed her wrist with the knife tip, creating a shallow cut that bled faintly. Ryan completely broke down. He was begging profusely, head almost hitting the floor. “I wouldn’t dare! Blair, I’ll never dare again! I’ll do anything you want, just put the knife down!” Blair looked at him, a satisfied, even cruel smile spreading across her face. She tossed the knife aside, cupped Ryan’s face, and commanded him like a queen: “Remember, your body, your mind, everything about you is mine. Without my permission, you cannot touch any woman. Your body will become dependent on me, like a drug. Without me, you’re just useless.” She finished, then took out the black diamond earring from her pocket and personally put it in Ryan’s left ear. “This is your brand, your ‘lock.’ From now on, only I can ‘unlock’ you.” The video ended there, abruptly. I sat on the chair, completely chilled to the bone. So, this was the truth. This wasn’t simple infidelity, nor some trashy love triangle drama. This was a years-long, twisted, horrifying case of psychological control and mental abuse. Ryan didn’t love Blair; he feared her. He had been completely molded into a puppet with no will of his own. And I? I was nothing more than an innocent casualty in their sick game. A tool used to test Ryan’s loyalty. I suddenly felt nauseous. I closed the laptop, put the USB drive and the earring away. These would be the most powerful pieces of evidence I could present in court. 0
As soon as I stepped out of the apartment complex, I saw Ryan’s car parked by the curb. He spotted me and immediately rushed over, grabbing my arm, his eyes bloodshot. “Chloe, you finally came out! Please, let me explain, it’s not what you think!” “Oh? Then what is it?” I looked at him calmly, my heart completely undisturbed. “I… Blair and I really have nothing going on! She’s just… just helping me with psychological therapy!” He was still spouting that ridiculous excuse. “Psychological therapy?” I held up the USB drive, shaking it in front of him. “Like the kind in this video, where she threatens you with a knife and calls you her dog?” The moment Ryan saw the USB drive, the color drained from his face completely, as if he’d seen a ghost. “You… how do you have that?” His voice trembled, his eyes filled with terror. “What, afraid I’d see you begging on your knees?” I pulled my arm free from his grasp, stepping back to maintain my distance. “Ryan, you’re pathetic.” “No! It’s not like that! Chloe!” He seemed provoked, lunging at me in a frantic, emotional outburst. “Give me that! Give it to me now!” I was prepared, sidestepping him. He missed, falling awkwardly to the ground. Just then, a flashy red sports car pulled up beside us. The window rolled down, revealing Blair’s exquisitely made-up face. She took off her sunglasses, looking at Ryan on the ground with no hint of concern, only disdain. “Useless trash.” She got out of the car, clicked her ten-centimeter heels, and walked up to me. “Give me the drive. Name your price.” She always spoke so directly. “What if my price is to ruin both your reputations?” I countered. Blair’s face hardened. “Chloe, don’t push your luck. You think a crappy video can take me down? You’re too naive. I advise you to know when you’re beaten, take a nice chunk of cash, and disappear.” “Cash?” I laughed. “Do you think I’m short on cash? What I lack is justice.” “Justice?” Blair scoffed as if I’d uttered the funniest joke of the century. “In this city, *I*, Blair Hayes, am justice.” She snapped her fingers. Two men in black suits emerged from the sports car, closing in on me from either side. “I’m giving you one last chance. Hand over the USB drive.” Her voice was full of menace. I clutched the USB drive tightly, my mind racing. Going head-to-head, I was certainly no match for them. I looked at her, suddenly changing my strategy, a flicker of panic on my face. “What are you trying to do? In broad daylight, are you trying to rob me?” Blair seemed satisfied by my apparent “compliance.” She raised her chin. “You can try calling the cops. See if they believe you, or the Hayes family’s legal team.” Just as the bodyguards’ hands were about to reach me, I suddenly threw the USB drive with all my might towards the other side of the road. “Want it? Go pick it up yourself!” Everyone’s attention was drawn to the flying USB drive. Blair’s face contorted. She immediately yelled: “Go get it!” The two bodyguards and Ryan rushed towards the road without a second thought. And I, seizing the opportunity, turned and ran. I heard the screech of brakes and screams from the crowd behind me, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t look back. I sprinted, running until I reached a subway station before I dared to stop and gasp for air. My heart pounded fiercely, half from terror, half from… exhilaration. Blair, do you really think you’ve won? The game has only just begun. That USB drive I threw? It was empty. The real video, the moment I discovered it, had already been uploaded to the cloud. And sent, encrypted, to my lawyer.
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