Married To The Man Who Hates Me

CHAPTER 4: AFTER THE FLASHES

The car ride back to the mansion was silent.

Damien sat beside me, his attention fixed on his phone, fingers moving with purpose. The glow of the screen reflected off his sharp features, casting shadows that made him look even more distant. I kept my gaze on the window, watching the city lights blur past, each one a reminder of the world I didn’t belong to.

Not once did he ask if I was okay.

Not once did he acknowledge the way I had been pushed aside.

When we arrived, he stepped out first, already speaking into his phone. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Vivian.

The word wasn’t spoken, but it hung in the air between us.

I followed him inside, my heels aching, my head pounding. The staff greeted us politely, eyes flicking between us with thinly veiled curiosity. News traveled fast in places like this.

“Good night, Mrs. Blackwood,” one of them said.

I nodded and headed toward the stairs.

“Lily.”

Damien’s voice stopped me.

I turned slowly.

“You embarrassed me tonight,” he said, his tone flat.

The words hit harder than the whispers at the banquet. “I didn’t say anything,” I replied, my voice calm despite the tightness in my chest.

“That was the problem,” he said. “You looked pathetic.”

Pathetic.

I swallowed. “I did exactly what you asked.”

He stepped closer, eyes cold. “You’re my wife. People expect a certain image. If you can’t handle that, then you’re useless to me.”

Something inside me cracked.

“I am not useless,” I said quietly.

For a split second, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe. Then it was gone.

“Go to your room,” he said. “We’ll discuss this another time.”

I didn’t argue. I turned and walked away before he could see the tears burning my eyes.

In my room, I slipped out of the dress and sank onto the bed. The silence pressed in, heavy and unforgiving. I thought of the cameras, the smiles, the way he had stood beside another woman while I faded into the background.

Why did it still hurt?

I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself this marriage meant nothing.

But when a soft knock sounded at my door later that night, my heart jumped.

I opened it to find Damien standing there.

“I didn’t come to apologize,” he said immediately.

Of course not.

“I came to remind you,” he continued, “that tomorrow the headlines will be everywhere. You will stay inside. No interviews. No statements.”

I nodded.

As he turned to leave, he hesitated—just slightly.

“You did… fine,” he added, almost reluctantly.

The door closed.

I stood there, staring at the empty hallway, unsure whether that was comfort or another form of control.

That night, as I lay in bed, one thought repeated itself over and over.

If this was going to be my life, then I would learn to survive it.

And someday… I would stop letting his world crush me.