CHAPTER TWO
1354 Words
The First Night
The hotel suite was beautiful. Rose petals covered the bed. Champagne sat chilling in a silver bucket. Candles flickered on every surface, casting dancing shadows on the walls. It looked like something from a romance movie.
But this was not romance. This was a cage decorated with flowers.
Jack loosened his tie as he walked through the door behind me. I heard the lock click and my whole body tensed. We were alone now. No witnesses. No one to see whatever happened next.
"Finally," he said, his voice different now. Darker. "Do you know how exhausting it is to pretend all day? Smiling at people I cannot stand. Acting like everything is perfect."
I stood frozen by the window, still wearing my wedding dress. My reflection in the glass looked like a ghost. Pale. Frightened. Trapped.
"Rose." His voice was sharp now. "Look at me when I am talking to you."
I turned slowly. Jack had removed his jacket and was pouring himself a drink. Whiskey. His third today that I had counted. Maybe his fourth.
"You embarrassed me today," he said, not looking at me as he drank. "My mother. My business partners. Everyone noticed how unhappy you looked."
"I am sorry. I was just nervous—"
"Nervous?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You had one job today, Rose. One simple job. Smile. Look happy. Make me look good. And you could not even do that right."
The glass in his hand looked dangerous suddenly. I had seen him angry before, during our two years of dating. But we had never been truly alone like this. There had always been someone nearby. My father. Lisa. People in restaurants or parks. Now there was no one.
"I tried my best," I whispered.
"Your best?" He downed the rest of his drink and poured another. "Your best is pathetic. You know what people were saying? They were wondering why I married you. A nobody. The daughter of a construction worker. No money. No connections. No real beauty."
Each word was a slap. I felt tears burning but refused to let them fall. Do not cry. Crying made him angrier.
"I married you because you were supposed to be grateful," Jack continued, moving closer. "Grateful enough to do what I say. To be what I need. A perfect wife who does not question me. Who supports me. Who makes me look good."
"I am grateful," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "I do want to be a good wife."
"Then take off that dress."
My heart stopped. "What?"
"You heard me. Take. It. Off." He was right in front of me now, towering over me. "We are married now. You belong to me. Every part of you."
My hands shook as I reached for the zipper. This was my wedding night. This was supposed to happen. This was normal, right? Wives were supposed to... this was what marriage meant.
But why did it feel so wrong?
I struggled with the zipper, my fingers trembling too much to grip it properly. Jack made an impatient sound and spun me around roughly. He yanked the zipper down so hard I heard fabric tear.
"There. Was that so difficult?" His breath was hot on my neck, reeking of whiskey.
The dress fell to the floor in a pool of white silk and lace. I stood there in my underwear, feeling more exposed than I had ever felt in my life. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to cover myself.
"Do not hide from me." Jack grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms down. His eyes traveled over my body in a way that made my skin crawl. "You are mine now. I own you. Do you understand?"
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"Say it," he commanded. "Say you belong to me."
"I... I belong to you."
"That is right." He released one of my wrists to touch my face, almost gently. Almost. "You need to understand something, Rose. I chose you. I could have had anyone. Models. Actresses. Women from wealthy families. But I chose you."
"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His hand moved from my face to my throat. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just resting there. A warning.
"Because you were weak," he said simply. "Desperate for love. Easy to control. You have no power, no money, no one who would believe you over me. You are perfect."
The truth hit me like cold water. He had not chosen me despite those things. He had chosen me because of them. I was not lucky. I was targeted.
"Jack, please—"
"Please what?" His hand tightened slightly. "Please be gentle? Please be romantic? This is not a fairytale, Rose. This is real life. My life. And you are just a part of it now. A possession. Like my car or my watch or my house."
Tears finally spilled down my cheeks. I could not stop them anymore.
"Oh, now you cry." He released my throat and stepped back, disgusted. "Pathetic. Get in the bed."
I did not move fast enough. He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the bed. I stumbled, catching myself on the mattress. Rose petals stuck to my skin.
"I said get in the bed."
I climbed onto the mattress, my whole body shaking. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. But what could I do? We were married. He was my husband. This was legal. This was...
The word "r**e" tried to form in my mind but I pushed it away. No. Husbands could not r**e wives. That was not how it worked. This was marriage. This was normal. This was what I had signed up for when I said "I do."
Jack started unbuttoning his shirt. "Stop crying. You are making this worse."
I tried. I really tried. But the tears kept coming, silent and steady.
He paused, watching me with cold calculation in his eyes. Then something shifted in his expression. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking tired.
"You know what? Forget it." He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I cannot do this when you are crying like a child. It is pathetic."
Relief and shame flooded through me in equal measure.
"I am going to the hotel bar," he said, buttoning his shirt back up. "Clean yourself up. Stop crying. And when I get back, you better be ready to be a proper wife. Understand?"
"Yes," I whispered.
He walked to the door, then paused and looked back at me. "And Rose? If you tell anyone about this, about any of this, I will destroy your father. I will ruin him financially. I will make sure he loses everything. Do you believe me?"
I looked into his cold blue eyes and knew he meant every word.
"I believe you."
"Good girl." He smiled then, and it was worse than his anger. "Welcome to marriage, Mrs. Morrison."
The door closed behind him. The lock clicked.
I sat there on the bed covered in rose petals, wearing only my underwear, and finally let myself fall apart. I cried until no more tears would come. I cried for the girl I used to be. I cried for the life I thought I would have. I cried for the trap I had walked into with my eyes wide open.
My phone buzzed. A text from Dad.
"Hope you are having a wonderful first night as Mrs. Morrison. I am so proud of you, sweetheart. Love you."
I stared at those words until they blurred. He was proud. He had sacrificed so much. I could not tell him the truth. I could not break his heart.
Another text came through. This one from Lisa.
"Enjoy your wedding night! You are so lucky! Jack is perfect!"
Perfect.
I looked around the beautiful suite with its candles and champagne and scattered rose petals.
This was my perfect life now.
And I had no way out.
- Writer
