The Cure Is You

Not A Slave.

°SERENA°

I looked at him, fear flashing in my eyes. Adrian sat in his wheelchair, positioned between the two massive couches like a king on a throne. Tim stood beside him, his head low, shoulders tense. Did he do something?

I didn’t have long to wonder. Adrian repeated his question, this time his voice dangerously low, sharp enough to cut through the air.

“Why do you need that?”

God! Help me.

“W-what?” I managed to stammer.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tossed an iPad onto the table with a sharp thud. The sound made me flinch. What if it broke? Does he have any value for things?

He doesn't even value humans, Serena.

An icy glare from him brought me back to reality. I tiptoed closer to the table, cautiously picking up the device. The tension in the room was suffocating. What had gotten under his skin this time? Disrespecting was his second nature, but what had I done to provoke it?

I glanced at the lit screen, and my eyes widened. My breath caught in my throat. Does he have a problem with this too? It's just a job.

“Answer me” he demanded, his dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made me want to flee.

I clenched the iPad tighter, anger bubbling beneath my skin. What business was it of his if I worked? Did he think he could control my life just because I lived under his roof?

I am not a doll for all to control.

“What?” I snapped, my voice trembling but defiant. “You’ve got a problem with me applying to work at a café?”

“Why do you even f*****g need that?” he hissed, his jaw tightening.

Wait. How did he... He had been prying into my life again.

“And why the hell were you prying on me? Again,” I shot back, my anger igniting into a blaze.

“Prying?” His lips curled into a cruel smirk. “That café belongs to me.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. His? Was there anything in this world that didn’t belong to him?

I took a moment to compose myself, masking my shock as best as I could. Well, who wouldn't be when you learn everything is his.

“I needed the job,” I said finally, keeping my tone even. The café was close to school, and the flexible hours worked perfectly for me.

“Exactly. And when I give you a monthly allowance, why do you need a job?”

The guilt I’d been suppressing started to rise, but I pushed it down. Even if I explained, would he understand? I doubted it. I don't know how to say or what to say, for that matter.

“Why do you care?” I shot back.

When you can’t answer a question, ask them a question they can’t answer.

He sneered. “I’m just asking. Do you really need money that badly, or are you just that money-hungry?”

His words hit like a slap. Money-hungry? Is that what he thought of me? Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him.

“You can think whatever you like,” I said quietly, my voice trembling with suppressed hurt.

“Hah.” He let out a harsh laugh. “ I knew, I always knew you were a little gold digger.”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. Even disrespect had its limits, and Adrian crossed them all without hesitation.

Tim, who had been silent until now, spoke up hesitantly. “Ma’am, if you need money, you can just ask sir—”

But Adrian cut him off sharply. “She’d probably prefer seducing someone for it instead.”

That was it. My anger exploded, obliterating any restraint I had left.

“It’s my life!” I shouted, locking eyes with him. “And I can do whatever the f**k I want with it, Adrian. I’m not your slave!”

“It’s my money!” he roared back.

“You gave it to me!” I yelled. “And I can throw it in the lake if I damn well please!”

“Yeah? And then run to someone else for more?”

I stepped closer, my voice low but dripping with fury. “What I do is not your concern, Adrian. You’re not my husband. I work for you, and you pay me. That’s the only connection we have.”

It's not like I owe him, I owe him nothing.

His jaw clenched so hard I thought he’d break his teeth. “The world sees you as my wife,” he growled through gritted teeth. “At least act the part. Behave.”

I stayed silent, my chest heaving with anger and hurt. He continued, his voice dangerously calm now, as if daring me to defy him further.

"If you could spend all that in one day, I wonder how many men you'd need to—"

"Adrian!" I snapped, my voice cutting through his vile insinuation.

"What?" he challenged, his eyes daring me to react.

As much as I hated the thought of explaining myself, I couldn’t let him walk all over me. I refused to let him treat me like this.

“I didn’t spend your money—not on myself.”

“Yeah?” His tone dripped with disbelief, his eyebrow arched in mockery.

“What’s the point of explaining when you won’t believe me anyway?” I shot back, barely containing the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“First, tell me your pathetic excuse,” he said coldly. “Then I’ll decide if it’s worth believing.”

I swallowed hard, hating that I had to justify myself to him, but I forced the words out. “I paid someone’s hospital bill.”

The memory flashed in my mind—desperate faces, the cries of that woman, and the boy clinging to her arm. Their gratitude is something that doesn't belong to me, it's his money, but I don't think he deserve them either.

“Who?” Adrian demanded, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly.

He snorted, shaking his head with a derisive laugh.

Am I am too evil to wanting to strangle him right now?

“You can check the card transactions,” I said defensively. “It was used at the hospital.”

Adrian c****d an eyebrow, then motioned toward Tim. Can't he use words? Why does he treat everyone else as if we are beneath him?

Tim hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, phone in hand. “Yes, sir. The card was last swiped at a hospital,” he confirmed after a few moments of scrolling.

I crossed my arms and stared at Adrian, waiting to see what this so-called great man would do now.