Chapter 2
1364 Words
“It came out of your mouth—our house,” Rick snapped. “That means I have every right to invite any guest I want.”
Samantha stared at him, stunned. Of all the excuses she prepared herself to hear, this one felt like a slap she hadn’t braced for.
Our house.
Yes, it was technically theirs. They had both signed the papers, shared the address, shared the bills. But nothing inside those walls belonged to them—not their hearts, not their trust, not their marriage.
But even so… didn’t a wife deserve basic respect?
“You can’t be serious…” Samantha whispered, her voice trembling.
Rick didn’t waver. His arm tightened around Catriona’s waist as if he were defending her honor—not his wife’s. And Catriona, standing smugly beside him, lifted her chin with a victorious glint in her eyes.
Samantha’s breath hitched. Her chest tightened painfully. She struggled to comprehend how the man she devoted herself to could stand there and justify something so cruel.
“I did everything…” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I cooked, I cleaned, I took care of this home, I—”
“And?” Rick cut her off. “Why do you keep expecting me to reward you for being a wife? You act like I owe you something. I don’t.”
Samantha took a step back as if struck.
Her lips trembled. Her hands shook.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to slap him.
She wanted to drag Catriona out of the house by her hair.
She wanted—just once—to choose herself.
But she felt so weak. So small. So defeated.
Rick’s eyes were colder than she’d ever seen. “You knew from the beginning I didn’t want to marry you. You knew I was forced.”
Samantha’s heart squeezed painfully. She had known. She heard the whispers, saw the looks, felt every rejection. But knowing it and feeling it were entirely different monsters.
Catriona sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. “Can we stop with the drama? It’s pathetic. Just let us enjoy the night.”
Samantha’s head snapped toward her.
“Pathetic?” she repeated in disbelief. “I’m the wife. You’re the mistress. And I’m the pathetic one?”
Catriona’s smirk deepened. “Well… look at you.” She gestured at Samantha’s reddened eyes and trembling hands. “You’re begging for a man who doesn’t even want you. If that isn’t pathetic, I don’t know what is.”
Samantha’s stomach twisted, rage mixing with humiliation.
“How dare you…” she breathed. “How dare you speak to me like that in my home?”
Rick’s expression darkened dangerously. “Enough. Samantha, shut up.”
The words were sharp, slicing straight through her like a blade.
Samantha flinched. Her vision blurred. Her heart felt like it might collapse.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “I’m your wife, Rick… Why can’t you at least respect me?”
“Respect?” Rick scoffed. “I never asked for this marriage. My grandfather forced me. I don’t owe you anything.”
Samantha’s legs wobbled beneath her.
“I’m not expecting you to love me,” she said, voice breaking. “But you can’t bring—"
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do,” Rick snapped. “Leave us alone. Now.”
Catriona stepped closer to Rick, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Come on, baby. Let’s go upstairs. We’re wasting time.”
Samantha felt the world crumble.
“Leave you alone?” she choked out. “Are you serious? This woman—this mistress—wants to kick me out of my own house?”
Rick glared at her. “Say one more thing and—”
“And what?” Samantha whispered, trembling. “You’ll hit me? Hurt me? Because it feels like you already are.”
Rick took a step forward, his expression thunderous.
That was when Samantha felt real fear.
Not heartbreak.
Not sorrow.
Not humiliation.
But fear.
She stumbled backward instinctively. Her hands shook uncontrollably. Her heart raced. She couldn’t speak—not because she didn’t want to, but because her voice wouldn’t come out.
“Samantha.” Rick’s voice was ice cold. “Leave. Us. Alone.”
He had never yelled at her that loudly before.
She saw hatred in his eyes.
Her breath hitched sharply. Tears pooled instantly. She forced herself to turn away, her steps unsteady. She walked down the hall like a ghost, her vision blurring.
She didn't look back.
She couldn’t.
When she reached her room—her room, because Rick refused to share one—Samantha slammed the door and locked it. The moment the lock clicked, her legs gave out. She slid down the door, her sobs echoing painfully in the dark room.
“It hurts…” she whispered to herself, clutching her chest. “It hurts so much…”
Her tears poured freely, her body shaking with every breath. She felt like she was ripping apart from the inside. The pain was too heavy, too sharp, too deep.
She curled into a ball on the floor, crying until her throat went dry and her head throbbed.
She cried until exhaustion finally dragged her into an uneven sleep.
Samantha woke hours later, disoriented and numb. The room was dark. Her pillow damp with dried tears.
She checked her phone—past midnight.
Her heart thudded painfully as she slowly stood up. A voice inside her whispered not to check, not to care, not to put herself through more pain.
But another voice—the desperate, wounded one—told her she needed to know.
Is Catriona still here?
Is Rick with her?
Did he really… choose her even inside this house?
Samantha opened her door soundlessly and stepped into the quiet hallway. She tiptoed barefoot down the corridor, her heart pounding louder than her footsteps.
She stopped outside Rick’s room.
Silence.
Samantha exhaled shakily, relief washing through her—
Until she heard it.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
Clearer.
A woman’s moan.
Samantha froze, her entire body turning to ice.
“Ahh…”
Another moan—longer, breathier, needier.
Her knees weakened.
Her heart slammed painfully inside her chest.
“Ahh… Rick… more…”
Samantha pressed a hand over her mouth as tears stung her eyes again.
Her stomach twisted violently. Her breath came in short bursts. The sound was unmistakable—pleasure, intimacy, lust. And it was coming from her husband’s bedroom.
Right behind that door.
In their home.
In the same house where she made him dinner.
In the same house where she prayed every day for him to love her.
In the same house where she tried to keep their marriage alive.
Samantha swallowed hard. Rage slowly burned in her chest, hotter and darker than anything she’d ever felt.
She felt humiliated.
Crushed.
Destroyed.
But also—furious.
How dare they?
How dare they do this under her roof?
How dare Catriona moan so loudly, so shamelessly?
How dare Rick let it happen?
Her hands shook, her nails digging into her palms as hatred bubbled inside her like fire.
For once—
Samantha stopped thinking like the obedient, patient wife.
For once—
she thought of herself.
She clenched her fists tightly.
Then, with a mix of courage and recklessness fueled by heartbreak, she grabbed the doorknob and shoved the door open with all her strength.
The sight slammed into her harder than any physical blow could.
Rick was on top of Catriona, bodies intertwined, limbs tangled in the sheets. Their skin glistened, their breaths ragged. The air reeked of s*x, betrayal, and cruelty.
Catriona gasped, covering herself with the blanket.
Rick whipped around, eyes blazing. “What the f*ck!”
Samantha’s heart shattered completely.
Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “How could you…?”
Her voice trembled—broken, devastated, but louder than ever before.
Rick jumped off the bed, fury radiating off him.
But Samantha—
Samantha stood frozen, staring at the man she loved more than herself…
…while he gave everything she prayed for to another woman.
- Writer
