Chapter 5: Unless i say otherwise
1420 Words
A/N the sentences and paragraphs are short, because I want to bring to light how unhinged he is and how his mind is only centered around Adena.
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Dominiq POV
“No one else will ever have her.”
“Not even fate.”
She was seventeen when I first saw her. I had never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.
I hadn't been pleased about having an arranged marriage . I am exceptional, and I wanted an exceptional wife. A wife I picked. Arranged marriages are common in Gemcrest. The Kingdoms want the best, not leaving it up to love.
My match had been Princess Adena of Vermillia. Too soft for this world.
No one else can have her.
No one else will ever have her.
She is mine.
Not “mine” in the petty, childish way boys claim ownership.
Mine in the way the crown is mine.
Mine in the way breath fills my lungs.
Her hand in mine at our wedding felt like victory. I remember the relief more than the joy.
A binding ceremony.
A sealed fate.
A royal marriage-untouchable by law, religion, or whispers.
There is no divorce for us.
No exit.
No undoing.
She is exactly where she should be-next to me, beneath me, bound to me.
People talk about love like it’s some delicate, gentle thing.
No.
Love is claiming.
And I keep what is mine.
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Adena thinks our marriage “didn’t start out this way.” That I wasn’t like this. She is right about one thing, before her, I wasn’t like this, but as soon as I set eyes on her, it unlocked something in me. I hid it well. She tells herself stories about a gentle beginning, about some soft version of me she imagined into existence.
Maybe I indulged that fantasy for a while.
Maybe I let her think I was the man she wanted.
Maybe I could only hide this side of me for so long.
I could never lose her. I would never allow it.
Still, things were smooth at first. Easy. She was quiet and obedient in the ways a noble girl is raised to be. But then came the years of waiting…Trying. Failing. Her body refused to give me what was owed to our throne.
Each month I watched hope drain from her.
And each month, something darkened inside me.
I believe that the way people saw her as imperfect when we struggled to conceive got to me. How could they think something like that about my perfect angel? It made me lose control. It made me want to prove everyone wrong.
Not because she failed-she would never fail me intentionally-but because she slipped further away.
Into a world that forgot me.
When her mother died, she shattered completely. She wandered the halls like a ghost, clutching a shawl as if it were more important than me. Clutching memories instead of me.
Crying over a woman who was already gone, while I, her living, breathing future, stood right there. I didn’t like competing with the dead for her affection.
Her mourning was irrational.
Excessive.
Indulgent.
I tried to pull her out of it gently at first, touching her waist, guiding her to bed, reminding her she wasn’t alone. Reminding her that as a wife, she had duties.
But she resisted.
She sank deeper.
And I will not be ignored. I will not be second to anything-not even grief. So yes. I stole more touches from her. Coaxing her back to me, against me, under me.
Because closeness is healing.
Because a united marriage is strong.
Because she is mine, and what’s mine doesn’t drift away.
Then-finally-she became pregnant. A gift. Proof of fate. Proof that she was meant for me completely.
And if she needed me to be softer, kinder, more attentive, fine. I did it.
For her.
For us.
For the image of the perfect royal union our kingdom deserved.
We had a precocious little girl. A daughter so beautiful she might have rivalled her mother one day…
I expected gratitude.
I expected admiration.
I expected worship.
She turned everything to the baby.
Left me invisible. She let herself vanish into motherhood until I was an afterthought.
She broke her promise.
“You vowed to love me with your whole heart,” I reminded her.
And she smiled-smiled-and said, “I still do.”
A lie.
A lie like poison in my soul.
She loved the child more. The pieces of herself she used to give me-softness, warmth, attention-she gave to Meira now.
I was patient.
For a while.
I told myself it was temporary.
I told myself she would return to me.
But she didn’t.
So cracks formed.
Fissures.
She doesn’t like to remember that part.
But I do.
Because it was the moment I realised something essential:
If she wasn’t choosing me, I needed to remind her who her life belonged to.
One night, she came searching for me, finally, and barged into Belle’s chambers.
Belle.
A foolish, desperate girl with too much need and too little sense.
A distraction, nothing more.
Adena had completely overreacted. I had thought she would be jealous and realise that if she neglected me, she would lose me. My attention would drift to someone else, but that isn’t what had happened.
I restrained her.
Of course I did.
She was hysterical.
She didn’t want me anymore; no, she planned on leaving me. She planned on taking my child away from me. She was MINE. I would never let her go.
I didn’t hit her. It was a touch of consequence. I corrected her.
A reminder of who she belonged to. She calls it the first time I “hit” her. People exaggerate pain when they feel betrayed. Belle sobbed and begged and acted like a child, but I only cared about the woman in my arms-the one who mattered.
Belle meant nothing.
Adena meant everything.
And when Meira appeared, tiny voice cutting through the chaos, I let go instantly.
Of course I did. A child shouldn’t see her mother in distress.
I am not a monster.
Belle was sent away before sunrise.
She was becoming obsessive. Complicated.
It was better for everyone.
She was jealous of her sister for everything Adena had. She wanted me because I was Adena’s. It never had anything to do with me. Only the fantasy of what she saw between Adena and me. The fantasy of True love. I had shipped her off to University where she was supposed to be anyway. That had been the plan all along, but before she went, she had “fallen” for me and decided to stay.
The child that appeared nine months later, Leah, was inconvenient, but problems are meant to be solved, not complained about.
Adena didn’t understand that.
I claimed the baby because she needed a father; she was my blood. Belle was unfit to be a mother. She wasn’t Adena. Adena was the only one fit to be the mother of my children. Adena claiming the baby as her own was also the cleanest way to preserve our family’s dignity. Of course, it could have all been avoided if I hadn't wasted my time with Belle. In the end, it was Adena’s fault. She made me do it by not giving me enough attention.
Adena thrashed and screamed things she didn’t mean.
So I silenced her.
Because words spoken in hysteria destroy lives if allowed to spread.
She fell quiet eventually.
She always does.
This time she went too quiet. I thought I killed her. I thought I lost the love of my life. If she died, it would also be her fault. Why couldn’t she just listen to me? I knew I had to be aware of the line from now on. I could punish her for it, but I can never again step over that line. I will not allow her to die.
She woke.
She healed.
She held the child just like I knew she would.
She thinks the castle is crushing under secrets.
She thinks she’s trapped.
She forgets something important:
Everything I do is for her.
Every decision is to keep her where she belongs.
Every correction is an act of love.
My love.
The only love that matters.
She thinks she’s trapped. She forgets something important. Everything I do is for her. For us. For our family.
My daughters will understand that one day.
I will make sure of it.
- Writer
