Chapter4
1080 Words
JANE POV
"My wife is you. You only need to be that.”
As I sat in the large, quiet dining room, looking at the unfinished dinner before me, I kept thinking about what Andrew had said.
The polished table was softly lit by the golden lighting above, yet I didn't feel warm. The house felt like a cage in spite of its opulence and grandeur.
I was merely a decoration in a well-designed prison.
Andrew had been treating me like an object—something to be owned, flaunted and managed—ever since our wedding night.
Yet never treasured. Never experienced love. The crew was constantly there and moved around the house efficiently, but they never gave me anything more than kind nods.
I sensed their schooled indifference, their cautious distancing. They had obviously been instructed to see me but not to interact with me.
I was stuck in someone else's life. And I had nowhere to go. — I walked along the corridors later that day, my fingers tracing the chilly marble walls.
Andrew's riches, influence, and dominance were all evident at this palace. When I arrived at the big staircase, I paused.
Then I turned and headed for his studies practically without thinking. Something drew me forward today even though I had never entered before.
Curiosity, perhaps. Perhaps it was disobedience.
Perhaps I was simply yearning to see what was going through the head of the man who had claimed me but would not let me see him. The door stood open a little. I opened it.
The room was dark and there were heavy curtains above the window.
In the middle of the room was Andrew's Kingdom, a giant mahogany desk surrounded by shelves made of leather books.
With a racing heart, I entered. There was something... odd about this place. It wasn't simply one of the house's chilly, spotless rooms. It was alive.
There were papers all over the desk, a cufflink on the side, and a half-empty whiskey glass at the edge. A faint but distinct hint of the man was there.
A package caught my attention. Its contents were hardly visible when it was opened.
I knew I shouldn't. But before I could stop them, my fingers moved. I read the paper after taking it out.
And my blood ran cold at what I saw. — It wasn't until it was too late that I heard footsteps. Andrew was standing there when the door opened.
He took a quick look at the letter I was holding.
The room was quiet for a long time. He then said: "What do you think you are, do you do that?"
In a cold voice that draws my skin. I took a big sip with all my heart in my ears.
"I-" He went three steps past me as his eyes darkened.
He smashed the paper in his fist after stealing it from me. "You don’t walk into my office," he said in a threatening, low voice.
"And you don’t touch my things." I refused to back down in the face of his stare.
"What was that letter?" He tightened his jaw.
"None of your concern." With my heart pounding, I took a step closer.
"It is my concern if it involves me, Andrew."
His eyes glowed with something that was almost frustration.
"Jane, I told you before. Don't get involved." I gave a quick breath.
"And what if I do?" Something that wasn't quite a smile curved his lips. "Then you’ll regret it."
However, I wasn't alarmed by his warning this time. I could see the fissures under his armor this time.
I also had no intention of giving up. No longer. — The days passed in slow torment.
In public, Andrew acted like a spouse, but in private, he treated me like a property. Andrew kept his distance.
At social functions, he clutched my waist, mumbled meaningless niceties in my ear, and smiled for the cameras.
But when the doors closed, the warmth evaporated. I wasn't his spouse. It was his duty. I was suffocating, too.
After another quiet dinner one evening, I finally snapped.
I slammed the door behind me as I rushed inside his study.
"Andrew, we need to talk." He raised his head from his desk, his face unreadable.
"About?" I balled my fists up.
"This marriage."
He reclined back in his chair as if my remarks scarcely interested him.
"I thought we already established the rules, Jane."
My chest constricted.
"This is not a union. I act as your wife in this commercial relationship, and you treat me as though I don't exist."
His eyes grew gloomy. "You knew what this was."
"Did I?" My voice faltered.
"Because I thought I was marrying a man, not a machine."
His expression faltered briefly before disappearing before I could read it.
His words were level.
"You have everything you need, Jane," he said. "A roof over your head, wealth, security."
I laughed resentfully. "Is that all a wife is supposed to need?"
Quiet. His face was unreadable as he gazed at me. Then he stood at last.
He approached me slowly and methodically.
Despite my hammering heart, I refused to give up.
When he approached me, he bent his head, his breath warm against my ear.
"If you want love, Jane, you married the wrong man."
I felt cold when I heard those words. Suddenly, he passed past me and vanished down the hallway.
I stood there, shaking. Because for the first time, I realized something terrifying. I wasn’t just trapped in this marriage.
I was caught with a man who refused to feel.
Also, I didn't know how to get out. I couldn't sleep that night so I hiked down the hallways of the palace.
I felt that invisible weight had fallen on me as the silence was heavier than normal.
With my bare feet silent on the shiny floorboards, I rounded a corner.
Then I heard it. Voices. Low. Immediate. I went cold. Andrew's research was the source of the noise.
I approached cautiously, slowly. The door stood ajar a little. I peeked inside.
With his phone close to his ear, Andrew stood in the gloom.
His free hand is bitten by his fist, and his attitude is harsh.
His voice was sharp. Furious. "If she finds out, it’s over."
My throat tightened with each breath. To whom was he referring? And more importantly— What was he hiding from me?
- Writer
