His For Hire

Chapter 3

The next day was Saturday and the house felt heavier than usual, thick with the kind of tension that had nowhere to go but inside her lungs.

Dale was in his usual spot—legs propped up on the worn coffee table, a glass of cheap whiskey in hand, the television blaring some sports match he wasn’t even watching.

Sheila stood by the doorway, wringing her fingers until they ached.He knew she was there. He just enjoyed making her wait.

Finally, he glanced at her, eyes lazy and sharp, that signature sneer already curling at his mouth.

“Well?” Dale drawled, swirling the glass in his hand.

“Don’t just stand there like a ghost. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”She swallowed hard, the words nearly strangling her.

“Please…” Her voice came out small, but she pushed through it.

“Don’t go through with the deal.”Dale’s head tipped back in laughter, loud and mean.

“Oh, this is rich.” He set his glass down with a loud clink and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his grin stretching wider.

“You really think you’ve got a say in this?” Sheila’s cheeks flushed, shame burning her from the inside out.

“I’m begging you,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“Don’t do this, Dale. Don’t sell me.”His laughter only grew darker.

“Sell you?” he scoffed, eyes glinting with cruelty.

“Sweetheart, nobody’s selling you. He’s renting you. Big difference.” She flinched as if he’d slapped her, but Dale wasn’t done.

“You know what your problem is?” He stood, looming over her, his breath thick with whiskey.

“You walk around this house thinking you’re some innocent little wife. But you’ve been nothing but a dead weight since the day I married you.”

“Dale…” Her voice broke, but he kept going, each word sharper than the last.

“You can’t cook. You can’t even hold a decent conversation. And don’t even get me started on the bedroom—God knows I’ve had better nights alone with my hand.” He laughed, watching the tears pool in her eyes with sick satisfaction.

“Face it, Sheila. This is the only time you’ve ever been worth something.”Her hands shook at her sides, but she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice thick with tears. “I can’t go with him. I’m your wife, Dale. I vowed to you. If I go, I might…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, the words choking her.

Dale’s grin turned vicious, leaning in close enough for her to smell the bitterness on his breath.“Might what?” he taunted, eyes narrowing.

“Might spread your legs for him? Cheat on me?”Her stomach twisted violently, but he laughed again, louder this time.

“Please,” she said again, barely able to speak past the lump in her throat.

“I don’t want to do this. I’ll find a way to pay him back. I’ll get a job, anything. Just… don’t make me go.”But Dale wasn’t moved.

He looked at her the way a butcher looked at a slab of meat—cold, calculating, and bored.

“Let me explain something to you, darling,” he said, his tone turning low and venomous.

“You’ve got nothing to offer but that pathetic little body of yours. And right now, that body is worth seven times my salary.”He stepped even closer, his breath hot against her face.

“Do you know how much that is? Enough to wipe out every debt I’ve got. Enough to start fresh somewhere far from here—maybe even with a woman who actually knows what she’s doing in bed.”Sheila’s legs gave out, and she sank to her knees, sobbing.

“Please, Dale… I’m begging you.”He smirked down at her, no mercy in his eyes.“Beg louder,” he sneered, leaning back against the couch as if watching a show.

“Let’s see how desperate you can get.”Her voice shattered completely.

“Please… please, Dale, I’ll do anything. I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. Just don’t do this.”His grin widened, feeding off her humiliation.

“You’ll be better?” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re a little late for that, sweetheart.”She sobbed harder, her pride in pieces, but he simply grabbed his glass and took a long sip, watching her like she was entertainment.

Then, with cruel finality, he muttered, “The deal’s done. You’re leaving tomorrow. Might as well start packing.”It was like the room tilted under her.

Her ears rang with the weight of those words, but Dale had already tuned her out, switching his focus back to the television, humming to himself.

“Lucky you,” he added idly, eyes on the screen. “You’ll get a taste of a real man for once.”Sheila didn’t remember how she got to her feet. Didn’t remember stumbling into their bedroom or collapsing on the floor.

Her chest ached with something sharp and bitter—something that felt a lot like the death of hope.

The realization hit her all at once.Dale wouldn’t change. He never loved her.And now… she wasn’t even his wife.

She was just property.

Morning came like a cruel joke. Dale had already left, probably off spending the money he hadn’t even received yet, already drunk on the fantasy of freedom from her.

Sheila sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes empty, staring at the crumpled clothes she’d shoved into her bag the night before.

There was no fight left in her. No one had ever fought for her.

And now, she was about to walk out of this house and into another prison—this time with a man who didn’t even bother hiding what he wanted.

But somewhere, beneath all the fear and the shame, a tiny ember burned.

She was leaving Dale.

Even if it wasn’t her choice. Even if it meant selling the last shred of her dignity. She was leaving. And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward something she couldn’t even name yet.