The Picture Wife

Chapter Four

A woman stepped in behind Arthur, her tall frame draped in a dangerously tight dress that clung to her curves. Thick, glossy curls cascaded down her back, framing a perfectly sculpted face. Her lips were painted the deepest shade of red, and the smirk tugging at them was both familiar and chilling.

Elena’s stomach twisted. "June?"

Her best friend from college smiled—a slow, taunting smile. "Surprise."

For a moment, Elena actually believed it was one. Maybe Arthur had sensed how much she missed having friends and family at her wedding. Maybe, in an unexpected gesture of kindness, he had brought back the one person she hadn’t heard from in five years.

But why her wedding night?

"June!" she gasped, rushing forward. "When did you get back from Italy?"

She opened her arms for a hug, but before she could touch her, June shoved her back as if she were filth.

Elena stumbled, her smile fading.

She looked to Arthur for an explanation, but he only smirked. Then, before she could process anything, he turned and pulled June into a kiss.

A deep, lingering kiss.

Elena’s breath caught in her throat. "W-what…?"

Arthur pulled away, wiping his mouth lazily. "You look confused, darling."

June chuckled, stepping toward Elena like a predator cornering prey. "Oh, sweetheart, you should see your face right now. Priceless."

Elena’s head spun. "I—I don’t understand. June, what's going on?"

June clicked her tongue. "Oh, Elena. Still so naive, aren’t you?"

She leaned in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I’m his."

Elena’s heart pounded. "His?"

June’s smile widened. "Arthur and I have been together for a long time. Long before he ever asked you out. This"—she gestured around them—"was just a game."

A sharp chill ran through Elena’s veins.

She turned to Arthur, her voice barely a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t true."

Arthur’s expression remained unreadable. Then, slowly, he shrugged. "It is."

His next words sliced through her like a blade.

"What did you think, Elena? That you were special? That I, a man of my status, would actually choose a waitress?"

The air left her lungs.

She took a shaky step back. "Why?"

Arthur’s smirk faded, his voice dropping into something colder, sharper. "Because I wanted to see you suffer, Elena. Just like you made me suffer back in college."

Elena’s pulse pounded in her ears.

"What?" she whispered.

Arthur took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "You don’t remember, do you? The way you taunted me? Insulted me every day while all I ever did was love you?"

Elena’s throat went dry.

"You were the first woman I truly loved," Arthur continued, his voice turning razor-sharp. "But then, you humiliated me. The day you pranked me in front of the entire department—do you even remember?"

Elena staggered back, the memory hitting her like a punch to the gut.

The prank.

She had told him they were going on a date, only for him to walk into a room where a bucket of sewage had been rigged to fall on him. The entire department had been there, laughing, taking pictures.

She had laughed too.

And then she had moved on.

"Arthur…" her voice was barely a whisper.

His jaw clenched. "The rest of my college years were miserable because of you. I was this close to dropping out. And you? You walked away like nothing happened. No apology. No remorse."

Elena’s world cracked apart.

"You—you married me for revenge?" she choked out.

Arthur tilted his head. "Oh no, darling. I married you to own you."

Her breath came in short, uneven gasps as realization sank in.

She had walked into this with open arms. She had smiled at him, trusted him, married him. And now, standing before the man she had promised her life to, she realized he had never truly wanted her.

June let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, sweetheart, you look like you're about to faint."

Elena swallowed the bile rising in her throat. "You... you were my best friend."

June’s lips curled in amusement. "Best friend?" she scoffed. "You mean the girl you treated like a sidekick? A shadow to make yourself shine brighter?"

Elena’s stomach twisted. "That’s not true—"

"Oh, but it is," Arthur cut in smoothly. "June never forgot how you used her to make yourself look better. The way you flaunted your wealth while she struggled. The way you let her fade into the background while you shined."

He leaned in, his voice laced with poison. "I remember it too, Elena. Every time you laughed at me. Every time you turned your back on me."

Elena flinched. "Arthur, I was young. I was stupid. I was wrong. But I never meant to—"

"It doesn’t matter," Arthur snapped. "Because now, you’re mine. And I plan to enjoy every second of watching you fall like I did."

Her body trembled. "You think this will break me?" she whispered, even as panic clawed at her throat. "You think I’ll just stand here and let you own me?"

Arthur smirked. "Did you read the contract, darling?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

Elena’s mind raced back to the wedding papers she had signed. The ones she had brushed off because Arthur had laughed and called them "just a formality."

"You gave me power over everything. Your accounts. Your assets. Even your freedom."

Arthur took slow, deliberate steps toward her. "You’re not leaving, Elena. Not unless I allow it."

Her heart stopped.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," he murmured.

A suffocating silence fell.

Then, Elena ran.

She bolted toward the door, adrenaline surging through her veins. She had no plan, no idea where she would go, but she knew one thing—she couldn’t stay here.

But Arthur was faster.

Before she could reach the door, his strong hand gripped her wrist, yanking her back against his chest.

"You’re not going anywhere," he murmured against her ear.

She thrashed, but his grip was unbreakable.

"Let me go!"

"Shh," he soothed mockingly, fingers tightening. "This is your life now, Elena. You should start getting used to it."

A cold, raw panic gripped her chest.

"No. No, this can’t be happening."

Elena’s vision blurred with unshed tears.

She had walked right into a nightmare.

Elena barely had time to process it before Arthur’s voice cut through the air.

“You can leave now, wife,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement.

"And by leave, I mean, just this room. If you ever attempt to leave, you will be found and prosecuted by law. Minimum sentence is 10 years", Arthur added as he exuded dominance.

June smirked.

"Or you don't have to leave. You could stay, and watch", June said, laughing scornfully.

Elena barely registered walking out of the room. She was floating—numb, disconnected.

Then, in the solitude of the living room, it hit her.

A broken wail tore from her throat as she collapsed onto the floor, tearing at her silk wedding robe.

And then, as if to make sure her suffering was absolute, the sounds started.

Soft at first—breathy sighs, low moans.

Then, unmistakable. Loud. Shameless. Taunting.

Elena pressed her hands to her ears, but it only got louder.

Her honeymoon night had become a prison sentence.

And the man she had married was the one holding the key.