The Devil’s Bride

Chapter 9: An Ally In The Shadow

Moore’s POV

The estate's kitchen was bigger than my entire childhood apartment.

Endless marble counters gleamed under recessed lighting. Polished copper pots hung like expensive art, and the massive stainless steel refrigerator hummed softly in the silence, stocked with food I was far too terrified to touch. I stood near the center island in my cream cashmere dress, trying my very best to make myself invisible.

Suzie had ordered me downstairs according to her to “learn my place” by helping with the household dinner preparations. She clearly relished every single second of watching me struggle.

“Chop the vegetables,” she commanded coldly, sliding a heavy chef’s knife and a wooden cutting board toward me. “And do it properly. I told you Mr. Vance expects perfection from his household.”

My hands were trembling with so much anxiety. The lace lingerie underneath the soft dress scratched against my bruised skin with every movement—a constant, humiliating reminder of my reality. I picked up the blade and started slicing carrots, but my mind kept drifting back to Ethan's suffocating weight.

I can survive this. I have to.

The blade slipped. The metal sliced right into my flesh, and I nicked my finger.

“Clumsy b***h,” Suzie snapped, her voice as sharp as the steel knife. “Look at you. You can’t even chop a simple vegetable without bleeding all over the counter . No wonder Mr. Vance treats you like a cheap whore.”

Heat flooded my face, burning hot and fast. I quickly wrapped my bleeding finger in a paper towel, desperately blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking down.

“Sorry doesn’t fix incompetence.” She stepped closer, her designer heels clicking menacingly on the tile. “You think wearing his cashmere makes you one of us? You’re still just the dumb broke little ballerina who sold herself for some dollar wire transfer. You’re just Pathetic.”

Her words cut significantly deeper than the knife. I kept my chin glued to my chest, my shoulders shaking as I tried to wipe away the small drops of blood on the counter.

That was when I felt another presence enter the kitchen.

Connor.

He moved silently, like a shadow used to being completely unseen. His security uniform was perfectly pressed, his expression calm but intensely watchful. Without a single word to Suzie, he took the bloodied paper towel from my hand and replaced it with a clean antiseptic wipe from a first-aid kit.

“Allow me, Mrs.Moore,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. His fingers were incredibly gentle as he began to wrap my cut. “You should be more careful.”

Suzie’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Connor. This doesn’t concern you. Get back to the garage.”

He didn’t flinch under her glare. “She’s bleeding, ma’am. I highly doubt Mr. Vance wants his… wife injured in the kitchen.”

The way he emphasized the word wife carried a quiet, dangerous defiance that made my heart clench. For the first time in days, someone was treating me like a human being instead of a piece of purchased property.

Suzie glared at him for a long, tense moment, then turned on her heel. “Clean this mess up. Both of you.” She stormed out of the kitchen, her heels fading down the hallway.

I stared at Connor, the tears finally spilling over my lashes. “You shouldn’t have done that. She’s going to tell Ethan. It’s too dangerous for you.”

He gave me a small, bittersweet smile as he finished bandaging my finger. His touch was careful, almost reverent. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. No one does.”

His kindness felt like warm sunlight breaking through a freezing winter storm. I hadn’t realized how utterly starved I was for basic human decency until this exact moment. My throat tightened painfully.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “For the handkerchief the other day…and for this. But please… you have to stay away from me. For your own safety. Ethan is already watching.”

Connor looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a heavy, quiet understanding. “I know exactly what kind of man he is. But I also see what kind of woman you are. You’re surviving something that would cause most people to completely crumble.”

He reached into his pocket and subtly slipped a small chocolate bar into my palm—the cheap brand I used to buy for my siblings whenever we had a few extra dollars.

“Something sweet,” he said gently. “You look like you need it.”

I clutched the cheap wrapper like it was solid gold, my eyes burning. For one brief moment, standing in that cold, oppressive kitchen, I didn’t feel completely alone in the world.

But the paralyzing fear returned the second reality crashed back in.

If Ethan found out… if Suzie reported this interaction…

I immediately stepped back, putting physical distance between us even though every part of me craved the warmth of his protection.

“I can’t,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Please. Don’t risk your life for me.”

Connor nodded slowly, absolute respect in his eyes. “I understand, Mrs. Moore. But if you ever need help… I’m here.”

He slipped out of the kitchen just as quietly as he had entered.

I stood there alone again, the soft cashmere dress suddenly feeling ten times heavier, the lace underneath itching like guilt. I quickly slid the chocolate bar deep into the pocket of my dress, hiding it away like a dirty secret.

But as I picked up the knife again with my bandaged hand, a terrifying thought crept into my mind.

How long could I keep surviving in this beautiful hell… before someone like Connor paid the ultimate price for showing me mercy?