The Picture Wife

Chapter Five

The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the room, but Elena felt nothing but heat. She sat on the cold marble floor of the living room, her honeymoon gown—flowy as a wedding dress—still pooled around her like the ruins of a shattered dream. The events of the night before played in her mind on a loop—the betrayal, Arthur’s cruelty, June’s laughter.

She had barely slept. In fact, she hadn’t slept at all.

June sauntered in, her movements deliberate, confident—too confident. She was dressed in a silk robe, her hair perfectly styled, as though she hadn’t just participated in breaking Elena’s life apart. She carried a cup of coffee in her hand, sipping it leisurely, her expression one of mock sympathy.

"Good morning, Elena," June said with a saccharine smile. "I trust your first night as Mrs. Hokings was... memorable?"

Elena didn't respond. She couldn't—what was there to say? Her throat felt dry, as if it couldn’t even form words without cracking.

June placed the coffee cup on the vanity table, her eyes scanning Elena’s disheveled appearance. "You look like a wreck. It’s almost like you had a bad night." Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Tell me, how did it feel? To finally realize you’re nothing more than an ornament on his arm?" She dragged out the last word, venom dripping from her tone.

Elena finally spoke, her voice rough. "You may think you've gotten Arthur, but it's just a silly thought. You’ll never have what truly matters."

June laughed, a sharp, empty sound that cut through the silence. "What matters? Oh, sweetie, what matters is power. And Arthur holds all of it. You, on the other hand? You’ve got nothing but that ring on your finger, and I’m afraid that doesn’t count for much around here."

Elena stood up slowly, her body stiff, her mind trying to process the horror of her situation. "What do you want, June? Why are you here?"

"Oh, I’m just here to congratulate you, of course," June said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It’s not every day a woman gets to become the ceremonial wife of a handsome billionaire like Arthur."

A cold shiver ran down Elena’s spine. “What do you mean, ceremonial wife?”

June ran a manicured finger along the rim of her coffee cup. “You see, sweetheart, things have changed. The maids? Gone. The staff? Dismissed. That’s why you’re here.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Arthur doesn’t need them anymore. Not when he has you."

Elena’s stomach twisted. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” June sighed. “You’re smart enough to figure it out. Who needs maids when the "wife" can take over their duties?”

Elena’s breath caught in her throat.

Before she could respond, Arthur walked down the stairs.

“Arthur… what is this?” she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper.

Arthur turned at her voice, pulling away from June slowly, a smirk still on his face. He looked unfazed, almost as if the whole situation was an expected formality. “Elena,” he greeted, the coldness in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine.

“Why is she here?” Elena’s voice was shaking, the hurt evident in every syllable.

June, standing just a few feet away, flipped her hair over her shoulder and stepped forward. There was no remorse, no guilt in her expression. Instead, she had the nerve to smile at Elena, as if everything was perfectly normal.

“Didn’t Arthur tell you?” June said, her tone dripping with condescension. “I’m his mistress. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Elena slowly pushed herself up from the floor, her fists clenched. “What game are you playing, Arthur?”

Arthur let out a quiet chuckle. “No games, darling. Just rules."

Elena’s jaw tightened. “Rules?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer, his expression unreadable. “You are my wife.. That means you will remain in this house, play the part of my dignified spouse, and never, ever question what I do outside this marriage.” His gaze hardened. “You will not speak of my affairs. You will not ask questions. You will not so much as flinch when I walk through the door with another woman.”

June leaned against the dresser, watching the exchange like a spectator at a show.

Elena swallowed the lump in her throat. “And if I refuse?”

Arthur tilted his head, a slow, cruel smile curving his lips. “You won’t.”

A sick feeling settled in her stomach. “Why?”

Arthur’s voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “Because I own you, Elena. You signed the contract. Your finances, your assets, everything—they belong to me now. You have nothing. No money. No friends. Nothing."

Arthur stepped closer, his presence dominating her. "And if you choose not to do what I want, there will be consequences. I have ways of making you regret it."

Elena felt her knees weaken.

“Arthur, you can’t be serious,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t care about your money, but you can’t treat me like this. I’m your wife. I deserve respect.”

Arthur’s laugh was dry, almost mocking. “Respect? From me?” He took a step closer, his eyes piercing into hers. “You’re lucky I even married you. I had other options. But I chose you. And now, you will do what I tell you, Elena. Or else, I will make sure you never see a penny of my wealth again.”

Elena’s stomach churned. She had no idea what she had walked into, but she could see the finality in his eyes. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t even angry. He was calm, calculated, and cruel.

Arthur continued, his voice almost gentle, as if he were explaining a simple fact. “You’re entitled to two meals a day. Your movements will be monitored. Security cameras will be watching you at all times. You will clean, cook, and serve—just like a proper wife should."

Elena’s entire body trembled. “You’re turning me into a slave.”

Arthur smirked. “A dignified one. I mean, I practically met you as a slave. Waitress, slave—what's the difference?” he said, sharing a giggle with June.

June chuckled. “See? It’s not so bad, Elena. You’ll still have a roof over your head. Clothes. A bed. And, of course, the honour of being *Mrs. Arthur Hokings*.”

Elena’s hands clenched into fists. “You’re both monsters.”

Arthur merely shrugged. “Perhaps. But you made this possible.” His voice turned ice cold. “You humiliated me in the past. You treated me like I was beneath you. Now, the tables have turned.”

Elena’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

June stepped forward, linking her arm with Arthur’s. “And you’re not allowed to say anything about Arthur’s... extracurricular activities.” She smirked as she glanced at Arthur.

Elena’s legs felt weak, and she collapsed onto the nearest chair. She could barely process what they were saying. Her mind raced, fighting against the growing sense of helplessness. She couldn’t escape. Not with the contract she had signed.

“You can’t do this,” Elena whispered, her voice cracking as the tears began to fall. “I can’t live like this.”

Arthur stood tall, his face expressionless. “You will,” he said coldly. “And you’ll do it quietly.”

She could feel June’s eyes on her, filled with triumph.

Elena’s breath caught in her throat as she turned to face her best friend—her former best friend. “I thought… I thought you were my friend.”

June’s laugh was bitter, harsh. “You never deserved to be in Arthur’s life, Elena. You were always too self-absorbed, too focused on what you could gain. Now, you’ll learn your place.”

Arthur stepped closer, his hand brushing her cheek in mock tenderness.

Elena exhaled shakily. “You think this will break me?”

Arthur leaned in, whispering against her ear. “I know it will.”

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

As Arthur pulled back and walked toward the door, June followed, throwing Elena one last amused glance.

“Oh, and sweetheart?” June’s smile widened. “We’ll be expecting breakfast. Something... Italian. Chop chop.”

With that, they climbed the stairs back to the master bedroom, Arthur carrying June.

Elena stood there alone.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Only one thought ran through her mind: "I have to end my life."