I held my breath for a moment and then slowly let it leave my lips as I stood at the bottom of the stairway, calming my nerves before heading to Chadwick, trying to tell myself I didn't look like a whore, that I looked perfect and beautiful. Marla did an excellent job covering up my husband's handwork, but I feared she may have used a bit too much where Chadwick will accuse me of trying to resemble a slut and, in his words, looking like a slut to purposely attract men that would love to please my needy pussy.

I looked down, rubbing my hands down my dress, ensuring everything was in place before I headed into the other room to find Chadwick.

"Hello, Mrs. Stevens. Would you care for a flute of champagne or a glass of red or white wine?" the cocktail waitress asked, stopping me.

One thing I'm not allowed to have without my husband's permission is alcohol. And I badly needed alcohol to help me get through this night like I needed oxygen to survive. I looked over her shoulder and then scanned the room to see where he was before I grabbed a glass of bubbly for myself.

Finally, I spotted my husband's inquisitive eyes homed in on me on the opposite side of the room, watching me—waiting to see if I'd take a glass from my husband's hired help tray or if I'd wait until he handed me a glass of champagne or gives me the okay to have one.

His eyes finally locked with mine, and I gazed at him with wonderment—silently asking him with my eyes if it was okay to have a glass of what she was offering me. Relief flooded my rattled nerves when he nodded, letting me know I could have a glass.

My gaze returned to the woman's tray she held in front of me, and as I reached for my drink of choice, I said, "I'll have a glass of champagne." Hopefully, a belch doesn't come about while drinking this bubbly-flavored wine, causing him to lash out at me from embarrassment. "Thank you," I politely told her before walking away.

I carefully took a small sip from the flute and headed toward Chadwick. I would've taken a large sip or even drank the contents in one swallow, but I wanted to savor something I knew would be the only glass he'd allow me to have.

His hand immediately snaked around my waist when I approached him, talking to a couple of men who looked to be more important than someone from the government. He studied my face briefly, then leaned to me and kissed my cheek, surprising me when he muttered, "You look beautiful. Marla did a good job hiding your imperfections."

I fought my eyes from rolling. Imperfections... you mean the bruises you gave me as a reminder never to upset you.

"She did," I agreed instead of telling him what I wanted him to hear while raising my flute to my lips and taking a sip.

I wanted to snap by telling him I could've gotten ready myself and that I didn't need anyone making me look like someone he wanted me to be, but knowing what would happen if I did, I remained quiet.

"Excuse us," Chadwick told the government officials he was talking with, "My wife and I have to continue making our rounds."

While my husband walked me around the room, introducing me to people I couldn't care less about, I pretended to act like a good wife would do—like I cared. I shook their hands, smiled happily, and praised Chadwick on his excellent work, doing everything possible not to shove my finger down my throat and gag myself during the gloating process.

I know that's childish to want to do, but I can't help it. I hate boasting about a guy who's done nothing but control and hurt me—turning me into a woman who'll bow at his feet no matter our situation.

I've overheard people talk whenever they saw and heard how he speaks down to me. They're always accusing me of being weak, assuming that I must not know I have a voice, and claiming I'm more than capable of standing up for myself. But they're not in my shoes—they don't understand my situation. Every time I've stuck up for myself in the past, the beatings worsened.

While Chadwick was in the middle of introducing me to his newest client, he suddenly stiffened, stopped talking, and then quietly mumbled to himself, "What the fuck are they doing here?"

I turned my gaze in the direction he was looking and closed my eyes after seeing who rattled his feathers. My sisters. Shit—I'm screwed. By them showing up at Chadwick's private party, one they weren't invited to, not even dressed to impress, means it'll be a long night for me, and everything Marla asked that I think about will be roaming my thoughts the entire time his fists are flying at me while shouting how much he despises my sisters.

"I'll tell them they need to leave," I sighed when Sabine's eyes landed on mine, and he started heading toward them.

His feet halted, and my hand fell from his shoulder when he angrily turned to face me, growling, "You'll stay right here like a good wife and socialize with my new client. I'll take care of your sisters."

Great.

Why the hell did they have to show up after I warned them not to stop by or call me tonight? They know Chadwick's rules about showing up at his place uninvited. I say his place and not ours because it's his home, not mine—something he enjoys reminding me of daily.

I hate this home, anyway. I don't even want to consider it as mine—it's full of evilness.

I stood frozen, nibbling on my fingernail, ignoring Clive as I watched Chadwick interact with Sabine, Soleil, and Sophie. By the looks on my sisters' faces and how he stood firm, gripping his hips, I knew he was reading them the riot act. Then, when he pointed at the door, most likely telling them they needed to leave, I grimaced, and my belly twisted when Sabine, my fearless sister, forced his arm down and pointed her finger between his eyes while snapping at him.

I scanned the room, looking to see where Marla was. I was curious to see if she was watching my husband and sisters argue and what her reaction was to him being belligerent with my sisters. When I saw her on the other side of the room, my nerves eased a bit when I saw the expression and the red coloring brightening her face like she was about to wreak havoc. Her feet were frozen to the floor, and she looked angry—outraged, actually. Marla also looked as if she was contemplating stepping between them and seeing if she could defuse the situation before he took his anger out on me.

Which? I wouldn't be surprised if Chadwick showed how angry he was with me after my sisters left.

Maybe she is on my side after all?

Finally, she handed her empty flute to Caleb, whispered something in his ear, and then hurried her feet over to Chadwick and my sisters. As Marla approached my sisters', Sabine sprinted toward me, and Chadwick followed close behind her—his eyes blazing with fire.

"Seraphine!" Sabine called for me, rushing toward me like she was on a mission to flee a home on fire. "Papa a eu une crise cardiaque et est à l'hôpital!" ("Dad had a heart attack and is in the hospital!")

My heart instantly stopped thumping, and my belly sank.

The one thing I'm not allowed to do is speak my native language around Chadwick. So, instead of responding to Sabine in French and risking a beatdown, I responded to her in English, "What? Dad had a heart attack, and he's in the hospital. Will he be okay?" I asked, letting my husband know what Sabine said to me before he did or said something to her for speaking to me in a language he didn't understand.

"Oui! Et maman nous a demandé de rentrer en France pour lui rendre visite. Elle a peur qu'il ne vive pas un jour de plus!" ("Yes! And mom asked us to go back to France to visit him. She's afraid he won't live another day!")

I turned to Chadwick, letting him know what she said after seeing the flames in his eyes burst even more and his hands clenching into fists from the corner of my eye. "My mom wants my sisters and me to return to France to visit my dad. She doesn't think he'll live another day." I looked at Sabine and said, "S'il vous plaît, ne m'attirez pas d'ennuis avec lui. Il ne me permet de parler anglais qu'à chaque fois que je suis avec lui." "Please don't get me into trouble with him. He only allows me to speak English anytime I'm around him.")

Speaking to her in a language Chadwick doesn't understand probably got me in trouble, but I don't care right now. I needed her to know I hadn't forgotten how to speak our native language. I also gave her the pleading eye that said she better listen, or I'll have another sleepless night.

"What did you just say to her?" Chadwick demanded, his tone stern as he shoved my shoulder.

"I told her to speak to me in English so she wouldn't get me in trouble with you."

"You're already in trouble," he admitted, groaning. He looked at Sabine and then at me, breaking my heart when he said, "And no. You're not flying to France. I need you here."

Since I knew I was already in trouble with him and upset he said I wasn't allowed to see my father; I raised my voice at him, "What? It's my father! Do you not understand that my dad had a heart attack? And that my mom is worried he isn't going to live through the night? I need to see him! He's my family! What the hell is wrong with you? Where's your heart?"

Who am I kidding? I already know there's no true, caring heart behind that solid brick chest of his. The jerk was born with a black, rotten, evil, corrupted heart. The thing snuggled securely behind his chest is just an organ pumping evil blood through his veins.

"I'm your family. And I need you here. Besides, he'll probably already be gone by the time you arrive, anyway. So it would be a wasted trip."

Asshole!

"It's. My. Father!" I seethed. Shouting, "And my mother needs our support!" I argued. "Are you telling me I'm not allowed to spend time with my parents? Especially the one who possibly won't live another twenty-four hours?"

With a nonchalant look on his face, he sternly said, "It's exactly what I'm saying. You're not going anywhere."

Tears stung my nose and assaulted my eyes.

"You heartless prick!" I yelled, immediately slapping my hand over my mouth after realizing my inner thoughts were shouted for everyone in the room to hear.

My eyes traveled from Chadwick over to Marla. She was holding Sophie and Soleil back from coming to my aid and shaking her head at me. Mouthing: "Remember, I have a friend who can help you." I looked at Sabine, fighting the stinging in my eyes as I sadly said, "Tell Mom I'm sorry I can't make it and that my thoughts and prayers are with Dad. Also, please tell her I'll video call when you're all with him."

Sabine's eyes filled with tears. She looked at Chadwick, then at me with hope in her eyes as she said, "J'aimerais que tu sois enfin sage et que tu quittes ton mari de merde. C'est un putain de connard." ("I wish you'd finally wise up and leave that piece of shit husband of yours. He's a goddamn asshole."

Chadwick angrily groaned and smacked the back of my head, asking, "What the fuck did she just say?"

"That she'll hug and kiss my father for me and let him know that I love and miss him," I lied. What Sabine said was I wish you'd finally wise up and leave that piece of shit husband of yours. He's a goddamn asshole.

"I'll make sure she calls your father," Chadwick offered, sounding sincere. We all know that he doesn't care what's going on with my father and that I'll never be allowed to call him.

Somehow, I'll have to figure out how to sneak a phone call to my parents.

Not caring if this upsets Chadwick, I reached for Sabine and pulled her in for a hug, saying, "I'm sorry." Then, I whispered, "Ne vous inquiétez pas. Je vais trouver comment sortir de ce mariage sans conséquences." ("Don't worry. I'm going to figure out how to get out of this marriage without consequences.")

Telling Sabine not to worry and that I'd figure out how to get out of this marriage without consequences relaxed her a little, and she hugged me tighter. "Let's just hope he'll be okay," she said aloud so my husband could hear instead of acknowledging what I told her before stepping away from me. She looked at Chadwick, aiming her finger at him again, and I closed my eyes. She's getting me in more trouble with him than she realizes with how she's scolding him. "You better hope my father makes it. I'll never forgive you if he doesn't."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Now get out of here," he demanded. "You're not on the guest list," he hissed, pulling me away from her and practically pulling my arm out of my socket as he guided me out of the ballroom, walking us fast down the one hallway I hate—the corridor that leads to the room he enjoys locking me in whenever he feels I've defied him or when he fears I'll leave him in the middle of the night.

He always worries I'll do the same thing my ex did with me by leaving and saying nothing.

Tears sprung to my eyes, and my heart slowed when he stopped, removed his keys, and unlocked the door to what I call my prison in hell.

His hold on my arm tightened as he opened the door. Then he shoved me into the dark, cold room, hissing, "The next time your sisters show up uninvited, your punishment will be much worse. Be happy we have guests over and that all I'm doing is throwing you in this room," right before his foot crashed into my belly, knocking the wind out of me.

I fell to the ground, holding my stomach.

"How long are you leaving me in this room this time?" I whispered, swallowing down my tears.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he growled, slamming the door shut and locking it.

If Marla is serious about helping me. I hope she saw Chadwick yanking me out of the room by my elbow. Then she'll know he brought me to the room I told her about.

Hopefully, she'll talk him into letting me out. But I won't hold my breath. Chadwick's hard-headed. And like she said. An asshole.

Now that I'm in this room, I have to hold hope she'll help me get out of my situation. But my mind says otherwise since Marla and Caleb are friends with my husband. Their friendship makes me wonder if she was testing me on Chadwick's behalf—curious to know if I've had any thoughts about leaving and divorcing him.

However, if that wasn't her intention and she was true to her word, I hope like hell she'll figure out a way to get me out of here and bring me to the one man she claims could help me.

Chadwick not allowing me to spend time with my father is the last straw. Now more than ever, I want to get out of this marriage and his home. And to get as far, far away from the monster that's slowly killing me.

Marla's right. If I stay with Chadwick, I'll never see a day of light because my life will no longer be—he'll torture and bury me alive and then deny knowing where I am—telling everyone who asks about me that I left on my own accord.

After seeing the fire in his eyes before locking me in this hellhole, tells me my time on earth is about to expire—soon—very, very soon.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!🤞🤞

Translations:

"Dad had a heart attack and is in the hospital!" ("Papa a eu une crise cardiaque et est à l'hôpital!")

"Yes! And mom asked us to go back to France to visit him. She's afraid he won't live another day!" ("Oui! Et maman nous a demandé de rentrer en France pour lui rendre visite. Elle a peur qu'il ne vive pas un jour de plus!")

"Please don't get me into trouble with him. He only allows me to speak English anytime I'm around him." ("S'il vous plaît, ne m'attirez pas d'ennuis avec lui. Il ne me permet de parler anglais qu'à chaque fois que je suis avec lui.")

"I wish you'd finally wise up and leave that piece of shit husband of yours. He's a goddamn asshole." ("J'aimerais que tu sois enfin sage et que tu quittes ton mari de merde. C'est un putain de connard.")

"Don't worry. I'm going to figure out how to get out of this marriage without consequences." ("Ne vous inquiétez pas. Je vais trouver comment sortir de ce mariage sans conséquences.")