CHAPTER THREE: Rules

Avery's POV 

I woke up in darkness, the ache in my body an unrelenting reminder of last night. My thighs throbbed, and a sharp soreness radiated from deep inside me. For a moment, I lay still, trying to grasp the reality around me. 

The bed was cold and empty except for me. I reached out to the other side, hoping to feel James' warmth or even his presence, but my hand met nothing but a cold sheet. He was gone.  

As I sat up, the sound of the sheets rustling and my breath felt too loud, too intrusive. My gown was in tatters, the shredded fabric scattered across the floor.

Seeing it made something inside me crack. I felt broken, humiliated, and stripped bare—not just of my clothing, but of my dignity.

 Memories of how he forcefully had his way with me filled my head, the way he ignored my pleas and took away my virginity without a second thought.

I bit my lip to stop the tears, but they came anyway, hot and silent. My chest heaved as I tried to steady my breathing. Crying felt useless, but the pain refused to stay bottled up.

 My life had been one long, twisted game of manipulation since my mother died. My father, stepmother, and Sadie—my so-called step-sister—had all used me like a pawn, bending me to their whims.

And now, here I was, trapped in a marriage that wasn’t a partnership but a life sentence. I had lost everything—my freedom, my voice, and whatever shred of self-worth I’d had left.  

I forced myself to swing my legs over the side of the bed. As I stood, my reflection caught my eye in the mirror, and I wished it hadn’t. 

My pale face stared back, a stranger’s face. There were bruises on my arms, faint marks around my neck, and my hair hung in tangled knots. 

My eyes, once vibrant, looked sunken and hollow. I turned away quickly, unable to face the broken version of myself.  

The sound of the door creaking open startled me. I flinched as the maid entered, carrying a tray. Her eyes darted to me, then quickly away, as if she didn’t want to acknowledge what she saw before he cleared her throat. “Mr. James requests your presence in the living room.”  

James. Even hearing his name made my stomach churn. My fingers clenched into fists at my sides as I fought the wave of nausea that came with the thought of facing him. 

“Why does he want to see me? Hasn’t he done enough?”  

I wanted to ignore his command, but I knew better than to resist. Saying no wasn’t an option. It never was.

I took a shaky breath, wiped my tears with the back of my hand, and straightened my posture. I grabbed a gown jacket from my luggage and quickly put it on.

I was trembling, but I forced my legs to move. I reached the living room to find him sitting on the couch as if nothing had happened.

 A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, the amber liquid swirling lazily as he tilted it. He looked up when I entered, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something—regret, maybe? But it vanished almost instantly, replaced by the cold, detached mask he always wore.

“You’re late,” he said flatly, his eyes boring into mine.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through my chest. 

The events of last night played on a loop in my head, each memory more painful than the last.

 I felt my fingers twitch at my sides, unsure whether I should speak or wait for him to continue.  

“Sit,” he said, his voice clipped and emotionless.

Everything inside me screamed to run, to get away from him, but my legs betrayed me. 

They moved on their own, carrying me toward the chair across from him. I sat down slowly, keeping as much distance as I could, my back stiff and my hands clenched tightly in my lap.  

A body-wrecking pain shot through my body instantly, as if to remind me of what he’d done.

 Every movement hurt, but I forced myself to ignore it. I couldn’t let him see how much he had broken me. 

James took a sip of his drink and set the glass down on the table with a soft clink, the sound slicing through the suffocating silence.

“We need to set some rules,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “This marriage isn’t going to work if you don’t know your place.” 

Anger bubbled up inside me, hot and overwhelming, but I bit my tongue. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words hurt me.

“What rules?” I asked, my voice barely audible.  

James leaned forward, placing the glass on the table between us as his eyes gazed boredly into mine.

 “First rule,” he began, his tone as cold as his eyes, “You will never question me. I’m your husband. You’ll do as you’re told with no arguments and no resistance.”  

My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my hands tighter. The thought of submitting to him after everything he’d done made my stomach churn.

“Second rule,” he continued, his voice cutting like a knife, “You will not speak to anyone about what happens between us. Not your friends, not the servants, no one. 

Our business is private, and it will remain that way.”  

I felt the walls closing in around me; his words felt like chains tightening around my throat. He was trapping me, isolating me from any possibility of escape. 

“Third rule,” James said, his gaze darkening, “You will act like the perfect wife in public. No one will suspect anything is wrong.

 You’ll smile, be gracious, and fulfil your duties as Mrs James Blackwood. Do you understand?”  

Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I nodded, unable to speak, my voice caught in my throat as James leaned back in his chair, satisfied with my silence.

I bit down on my lip, trying to keep my voice silent with the thought that the conversation was over, but I couldn’t let it end like this.

 I had to ask. “And what about last night?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound steady.  

 “Last night was a mistake,” he said, his tone cold and detached. “I drank too much, and you were there. It’s not my fault if you can’t handle what happens when you decide to provoke me.”  

My jaw dropped in shock. “Provoke you? You were the one who lost control of your sanity… I didn’t…”  

“You didn’t what?” he snapped, cutting me off, his voice laced with anger. “You didn’t want this marriage? Neither did I, Avery. 

But here we are, stuck in this mess because your family needs power. If at all I could sell you off, I would. 

I never wanted you and never will…Sadie would always be my better choice, and even though you're just her replacement, you wouldn't get to fill her place 'cause she already has a place in my heart, one that no one can replace.” 

His words stung hard, and I felt heat rise to my face as anger and frustration bubbled to the surface. “I didn’t ask for this either, and if you want to be with your perfect Sadie, you can go ahead for all. 

I don't give a fuck,” I said, my voice shaking as I struggled to keep my composure. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like this. To take away my dignity and pride.”  

His expression grew colder, his eyes narrowing as something sinister flickered across his face. “To treat you like what?” he sneered. “Like the pathetic little girl you are? To take what’s mine? You’re my wife now, Avery. 

Whether you like it or not, that means you belong to me. Your body, your mind, your life—it’s all mine. I only took what was already mine.”

I gasped, humiliation and rage boiling inside me. “How dare you…I know I might be nothing now, you might hate me now…but a day will come, James, when you'll want me, when you'll plead to have me back, but then it will be too late, and I wouldn't even look at your figure,” I started, my voice rising, but he cut me off with a cold, threatening glare.

“Enough,” he said sharply, his tone heavy with warning.  

I swallowed hard, forcing down the remaining words I wanted to scream at him. My hands trembled, and my body felt like it was on the verge of breaking apart. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m going to my room,” I said, my voice flat but laced with defiance. Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. 

I didn’t stop until I reached the sanctuary of my room, where I locked the door and let out the breath I hadn’t

realized I was holding. My chest heaved as I fought to steady myself, but the ache in my heart and the weight in my soul refused to ease.