Becoming Bryan Mozorov’s Third Wife

MAI “How could you do something that awful, Father? How could you do it in the name of money?” I yelled. The words tore out of my throat before I could stop them. My palms slammed against the old wooden dining table, rattling the chipped plates that had seen more years than I had. The air between us thickened, heavy with everything he had just confessed. An eight-billionaire. That was how he said it. Like those words were enough to excuse everything else. Bryan Mozorov. The name alone made my stomach twist. I knew that man. Everyone knew him. Every glossy magazine. Every gossip column. Every whispered fantasy between women who dreamed of being noticed by power. The kind of man whose smile could buy loyalty and whose money could erase sins. But not to me. Not ever. Tears burned my eyes as the truth settled in, sinking its claws into my chest. He hadn’t just noticed me. He hadn’t simply admired me. He had claimed me without my consent. “How did he even know me?” I demanded, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound strong. “I met him once. Just once, Father. At the Best Baker of the Year competition.” That day came rushing back with brutal clarity. The heat of the ovens. The smell of sugar and butter in the air. There was also the tension as judges moved from table to table. And then, HIM. Tall. Imposing. Effortlessly powerful. His eyes hadn’t lingered on my cake. They had lingered on me. Slow. Appraising. Like I was something already owned. “He stood too close,” I continued, pacing now. “Too close. His hands…” My voice cracked. “His hand brushed my lap as it belonged there. Like I was an object.” I clenched my fists. “Flirty bastard.” “Mai,” my father started. “Being the strongest billionaire in Russia doesn’t mean every woman belongs to him,” I snapped. “How dare he come for me? After what he did to my friend that night? How dare he?” I continued. My chest heaved as anger and disbelief collided inside me. “And you,” I whispered, turning on my father. “How could you sell me so cheaply?” “I didn’t sell you,” he said quickly, panic flickering in his eyes. “You did,” I shot back. “My own father.” His shoulders slumped, suddenly looking older than I had ever seen him. “I did it for you.” He said. I laughed, a sharp, broken sound. “For me? So I can become a third wife?” “I can’t marry that stupidly handsome man!” I yelled. “I have my own choices! I didn’t pray all my life just to become someone’s third wife!” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Mai… he’s rich. Extremely rich.” He pointed out just yet again. “He’s married twice,” I shot back instantly. “Divorced twice.” “But he’s an eight-billionaire.” He pressed on. I stared at him, disbelief draining the colour from my face. “So what?” I whispered. “I kneel and worship him because he’s rich?” My voice dropped, bitter. “I prefer his half-brother over him. At least Adrian doesn’t pretend to be a saint.” “You will marry Bryan Mozorov,” my father said firmly. “I won’t,” I replied. “What did you just say?” “I can’t marry him,” I repeated, my voice shaking now. “I won’t be a third wife to that asshole billionaire. His ex-wives still live in his house!” “You think I wanted this?” he snapped suddenly. “I’m tired of being ashamed that I can’t provide for you! I’m a peasant farmer, Mai. I want you to live big!” “I don’t want big!” I cried. “We already eat three meals a day. I’m content with that! I don’t need expensive hair or clothes!” my voice rose harder. “When my baking business grows, we’ll be fine.” “I did this because I love you.” He said. “I love you too,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “So give me the money. I’ll return it.” His face hardened like stone. “You’re marrying him. Period.” Something inside me shattered. “Then you’ll have to kill me first!” I screamed. “My only life, sold into becoming a third wife? Give me the money!" “I gambled it.” He dropped the bombshell. The words landed like a slap. “What?” it trembled off my lips. “I lost everything.” The room spun violently. “All the money you spent, clothes, shoes, hair, it came from him.” He narrated. My knees buckled, and I grabbed the table for support. So I had been living off the price of my own sale. “I hate you,” I whispered, tears streaming freely now. “You lied to me.” He smiled weakly. “You’ll learn to love him.” “I never will.” I spat. I grabbed my bag and fled the house before I completely broke. “Mai, you’re late,” Alicia said. “Big Momma’s already angry. What’s wrong?” She quickly announced as soon as I arrived at the bakery. “My dad sold me,” I whispered, collapsing against her. “To who?” she asked, visibly alarmed by what I said. “Bryan Mozorov.” Her eyes widened and then sparkled. “He wants me as his third wife.” “My Bryan?” she gasped. “The eight-billionaire?” She hugged me excitedly. “Mai, this is a blessing!” “I won’t marry him.” “Why?” she gushed. “He’s handsome, powerful, influential, his name stretches across Russia, Asia, even America!” She smiled dreamily. “Have you seen his body?” I groaned. “You’re not helping.” Before I could respond; “Mai” Big Momma’s hoarse voice thundered. “In my office. Now.” I followed her, dread coiling in my stomach. She sat heavily behind her desk. “You remember the competition?” “Yes.” “We won because of Bryan’s help,” she said casually. “He agreed on one condition.” My heart sank. “You.” She pointed, “He wants to marry you.” This is becoming more ridiculous than I had given it credit for. “You traded me?” I whispered. “All of you?” Her voice hardened. “Watch your tone.” She stood. “Open the door.” I hesitated and then obeyed. Three men in black suits stood there. Fear froze my blood. “Momma… are you expecting someone?” I asked, looking at those men with sharp precision. “Take her.” She commanded and they grabbed me. “What?” I screamed. “Let me go!” I fought, but one of them pressed something over my nose. The world blurred. Darkness swallowed me.