𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

THE MISUNDERSTANDING

“What was he to you?”

Victor began unbuttoning his shirt. Jane closed her eyes. Her love for him was being swallowed by pure terror.

“Nothing! I haven't seen him in years!”

“Does he know you're married?”

“Does he know you belong to me?”

The calmness in his voice was scarier than the shouting. He grabbed her arm and threw her onto the bed. She tried to scramble away to the other side.

“Where did you get this sudden spark of defiance?” he asked with a cruel smirk as he pinned her down.

“Victor, stop. Please.”

She fought him, but he pinned her wrists above her head. She turned her face away in disgust. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“When I'm with you, you look at me. Understood?”

Jane found a surge of strength and shoved him back. Victor stumbled, then looked at her with a look that promised pain. He struck her across the face.

“What, am I not good enough now?”

“Are you waiting for Silas?”

“Do you plan on bringing him into my house the moment I turn my back?”

Jane held her stinging cheek. The insult hurt more than the blow.

“You're talking nonsense, Victor!”

“When did I ever give you reason to doubt me?”

“Is your jealousy a disease?”

She stood her ground, her voice trembling with ruined pride.

“Just because you bought me doesn't mean I'm a toy you can use at any hour of the day.”

“You never said that was the deal when we married.”

“Then why did you marry me?” he sneered.

“To play lady of the house?”

“To use my name while you pine for someone else?”

“I married you for my own needs. If you can't handle that, then get out!”

Jane broke down, sobbing into her hands.

“Save the drama for the movies, Jane,” he said, kicking a box out of his way with a loud crash.

“I married you because I wanted to be loved,” she sobbed.

“If you can't love me—if I'm just a body to you—then I won't stop you.”

“Do what you want.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, her spirit crushed. She hoped he might soften, might come to her with an apology. Instead, he pulled his shirt off and approached her, his eyes cold.

He pulled her toward him, and Jane gripped the bedsheets, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

“What, you can't stand me now? You only have energy for Silas?”

Victor’s words dripped with poison, but Jane offered no reply. She lay there, her eyes swollen and filled with a cold, silent fury.

He grew frustrated by her lack of reaction. He forced her hands away from her face, pinning them above her head once more.

“I want to hear you,” he whispered, a dark, seductive edge to his voice.

But how could she find pleasure in this pain? He gripped her waist, his hands cold against the feverish heat of her skin, but she bit her lip until it bled rather than let out a single sound. Her refusal to engage—her utter stillness—felt like a slap to him. It was a failure. He couldn't reach the woman inside; he was only breaking the shell.

To Be Continued...