Pregnant for her pretend husband.

Haley Michelson counted the bruises on her ribs in the bathroom mirror,seven purple welts blooming across pale skin like grotesque flowers. Each one told the story of last night’s beating, when Uncle Richard had discovered she was fifty dollars short on rent. The fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting shadows that made the bruises look even darker, even angrier. her fingers trembled as they traced the tender flesh. Three months. She had three months to save enough money and disappear before Richard sold her to Ferdinand Russo like cattle at auction. Three months until I become property. The thought made bile rise in her throat. “Haley!” Richard’s fist pounded against the bathroom door, making the cheap wood rattle in its frame. “Get your lazy ass out here! Ferdinand’s waiting!” Her heart stopped. Ferdinand wasn’t supposed to visit until next week. She fumbled for her shirt, wincing as the fabric scraped over her injuries. Her reflection stared back,twenty one years old but looking decades older, dark circles under green eyes that used to sparkle, chestnut hair hanging limp around hollow cheeks. When had she become this ghost of a person? “I’m coming!” Her voice cracked. The living room reeked of stale cigarettes and cheaper whiskey. Ferdinand Russo sat on the sagging couch like a king on a throne, his bulk taking up half the space. Cold eyes,shark eyes,tracked her movement as she entered. He was forty five, with graying temples and hands that had broken more bones than she could count. Everyone in the neighborhood knew what he was. What he did. “There she is.” Ferdinand’s smile didn’t reach those dead eyes. “Come closer, sweetheart. Let me see what I’m buying.” Haley’s feet felt like lead, but Richard’s warning glare propelled her forward. Ferdinand stood, circling her like a predator. His fingers, thick and scarred, tilted her chin up, then down. He checked her teeth. Squeezed her arms. The examination was clinical, detached, and utterly dehumanizing. “She’s thin,” Ferdinand remarked. “She eats fine,” Richard lied smoothly. “Just got her mother’s metabolism.” My mother would have killed you for this, Haley thought viciously. Her mother, who’d died three years ago and left her in Richard’s “care.” Some care. “And you’re sure she’s untouched?” Ferdinand’s breath was hot against her ear, reeking of cigars and something rotten. “I like them pure. Unspoiled.” “Virgin as a nun,” Richard assured him. “I’ve made certain of it.” Ferdinand’s hand slid down her arm, and Haley bit her tongue until she tasted copper. Don’t react. Don’t give him a reason to hurt you worse. “Good.” Ferdinand stepped back, apparently satisfied with his merchandise. “Three months, Richard. Wedding’s set for June fifteenth. And she better be exactly as advertised, or our deal’s off, and your debts come due in full.” The threat hung in the air like a noose. After Ferdinand left, finally, mercifully left, Richard turned on her with a smile that promised pain. “Rent contribution. Now.” Haley’s stomach dropped. “I have three hundred. I’m a hundred short because I had to buy antibiotics when I got that infection last month, and then I missed work, and they fired me, ” His boot caught her in the ribs. The same ribs already decorated with yesterday’s bruises. She hit the floor hard, gasping, the world tilting sideways. Pain exploded through her torso like lightning. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Richard’s voice, distant and distorted. “Excuses. Always excuses with you. Your worthless mother was the same way.” Another kick. This one to her hip. “Three months, Haley. Three months and you become Ferdinand’s problem. Try not to ruin this for me.” Hours later, Haley stood outside Moretti’s Market, where she’d worked as a cashier until two weeks ago. The “Help Wanted” sign in the window felt like mockery, but desperation made people do humiliating things. Please, she prayed to whoever might be listening. Please let them take me back. Mr. Moretti looked genuinely apologetic when he saw her. “Haley, I’m sorry. I really am. But you missed three shifts without calling. I had to hire someone reliable.” “I was sick. I had a fever of 103, and my uncle wouldn’t let me use his phone, ” “I can’t run a business on maybes and excuses.” His weathered face creased with sympathy that wouldn’t pay her bills. “I wish I could help, sweetheart. I really do.” The afternoon sun felt too bright as Haley walked home, each step a small agony from Richard’s boot to her hip. She’d saved $847 in two years. A bus ticket to another city cost at least $200. First month’s rent and deposit somewhere far away from here, $1,500 minimum. She was so far from freedom she might as well be on another planet. “Haley! Haley, dear!” She turned to see Martin Webb hurrying toward her, his kind, grandfatherly face creased with concern. Martin lived two houses down and had always been nice, bringing her groceries when Richard forgot to feed her, offering gentle words when the bruises got too obvious. “Mr. Webb.” She managed a tired smile. “You look exhausted, dear.” He studied her face, and she wondered what he saw. Could he see the desperation? The fear? “Still looking for work?” “Mr. Moretti won’t take me back.” “Ah.” Martin nodded slowly. “That’s unfortunate. But actually, I might have something for you.” He pulled an elegant black business card from his pocket, heavy cardstock with gold lettering. “A friend of mine runs an upscale establishment downtown. They’re looking for waitresses. The tips are excellent, and the hours are flexible.” Hope fluttered in Haley’s chest, fragile as butterfly wings. “Really?” “Really. Just show them this card and tell them Martin sent you. They’ll tak care of you.” His smile was warm, trustworthy. “It’s good, honest work, Haley. And God knows you deserve a break.” Honest work. Good tips. Flexible hours. It sounded too good to be true. But beggars can’t be choosers, she thought, clutching the card like a lifeline. “Thank you, Mr. Webb. Thank you so much.” “Of course, dear. Of course.” He patted her shoulder gently, carefully avoiding the bruises he definitely knew were there. “You go tomorrow, all right? Fresh start.” Fresh start. The words echoed in her mind all the way home. When she walked through the door, Richard was waiting with a bottle in one hand and that terrible smile on his face. “Got some news for you, princess.” Her stomach clenched. “Ferdinand called. He’s moved up the timeline.” Richard took a long pull from the bottle. “Wedding’s in three months. June fifteenth. Hope you’re ready to be Mrs. Russo.” Three months. Ninety days. Haley looked down at the black business card in her hand. The gold lettering gleamed under the naked bulb. Sapphire Lounge Where Dreams Come True Three months to save herself, or become Ferdinand’s property forever.