Chapter 1.

⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️

This chapter contains mature and dark themes involving a toxic and abusive marriage. Please proceed with caution.

Key Triggers: Emotional and verbal Abuse, Sexual Assault, Domestic violence, physical abuse and Forced Medication.

~ Sienna’s Pov~

“You’re nothing but a whore, always remember that.”

Vincent whispers in my ear as I grit my teeth, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as I force my mind to count the pattern detaching my soul from my body which he is currently using as a ragdoll.

When he finally finishes, he pulls out of me with a grunt, leaving me aching and shaking on the king sized bed.

The pressure on his side of the bed shifts as he stands before grabbing one of the expensive fluffy white hand towels from the nightstand and wipes himself, wiping me off his cock with a look of pure, unaulterated disgust on his face.

Like I am nothing but dirt he just stepped in.

I close my eyes as tears stream down my face, soaking the pillow. I try to hold them back, but they just keep flowing.

A small, pathetic sound escapes my throat, a whimper I tried to swallow. Big mistake.

The bed dips from his weight as he kneels beside me. I immediately open my eyes to see his angry face looming over me.

“Stop that!”

Before I can move away from him, his hand grabs my face, his fingers digging into my jaw as he yanks my face up to his.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Sienna.”

His eyes are ice. Cold, dead, and furious.

“You are so fucking pathetic,” he says, his voice dropping low. His grip tightens, and I can feel my teeth grinding together.

“Why are you acting like you hate this when we both know that you love this. You cry and you shake, but we both know that this is exactly what you want?”

“Vincent, please…You’re…” My voice is a broken whisper.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Please ‘more’? You’re nothing but a hole for me to use, Sienna. Never forget that because that is what you will ever be.” He says as he shoves my face so hard, my head hits the headboard.

“Clean yourself up before I get back,” he orders and just like that he walks into the master bathroom slamming the door shut.

And then, I hear the shower turn on.

Of course.

He just can’t stand the smell of me on him. He can’t stand the evidence of what he just did, what he does to me every time he needs to remind me exactly where I stand in this marriage.

Nowhere. I stand nowhere.

My whole body is trembling from the orgasm he forced out of me, the one that left me feeling more violated than satisfied.

The metallic taste of blood, mixing with the salt from my tears fill my mouth as I roll my tongue over my split bottom lip.

I try to sit up, but the pain that lances through my hips halts my movement.

There are bite marks and purple red hickeys everywhere. On my breasts, my shoulders, my thighs. I don’t need to look to know they’re there. I can feel every single one throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

My Name is Sienna Hayes. And this has been my life and marriage for the past three years.

By morning, I am Vincent’s efficient loyal assistant and at night, I am the wife who he believes trapped him in our marriage which he calls hell.

Our routine is normal. I’m always at his beck and call, making sure things are moving smoothly in the company in the morning and at night, he fucks me like he hates me which he does. Hard, fast, and silent, except for the slaps of our skins and his grunts, his words that constantly remind me that I am nothing.

He fucks me until I come, because he needs me to. He demands it. He considers it a win, a confirmation of his power over me, a way to prove my body still belongs to him, even if nothing else does.

And the minute he is done, he reaches for a towel which I must ensure is always kept on the nightstand.

He never stays. Never cuddle. He has never kissed me affectionately in years. His kisses are just bites on my lips and body, his way of shutting me up and imprinting his mark.

And the second he’s done, he’s gone. Straight to the shower. To scrub me off his body because he can’t stand my scent on him but that doesn’t stop him from fucking me every night.

The water in the bathroom stops and panic slams into me because I know what comes next.

I grab my silk robe from the floor, where he dropped it after ripping it off me. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely get my arms in the sleeves.

He steps out of the bathroom wearing a black shirt over a pair of trousers.

Walking over to the nightstand, he opens a drawer and takes out a bottle of pills and tosses it to me.

“Take it. The last thing I need is another mistake.”

He is referring to the ‘mistake’ that led to this hell of a marriage in the first place. To the pregnancy he claims I used to trap him—a convenient lie he tells himself to make himself feel good.

He forgets that he was the one who forced the ring on my finger. But in Vincent’s world, I am always the villain, and he is the victim.

My hand trembles uncontrollably as I reach for the bottle.

In my panic and from the excruciating pain from my wrist, a result of my fall during one of his violent outbursts, I drop the pill bottle, sending the small white tablets scattered around the silk sheets.

A deep, exaggerated sigh escapes his lips. “Pathetic.”

That word. It’s not just an insult; it’s one of my many degrading names he calls me.

He doesn’t wait for me to retrieve the scattered pills. He walks up to me and grabs a handful of the stray tablets and a glass of water.

His left hand grips my jaw. Hard, as his fingers digs into the bruises already forming beneath my skin from last night’s rough kissing. I can’t move my head. I cry out, but the sound is trapped behind his palm.

I try to struggle or wriggle out of his grip but that makes him more angry and he gives me a hot blinding slap.

His hands find my face again and with his hands pressed on the both sides of my cheeks, he forces my mouth open and throws the handful of pills into my mouth.

“Swallow it.” He barks.

Water spills down my chin mixing with the tears that have gathered in the corners of my eyes.

I drink. I choke and I struggle as the pills flush with force down my throat.

He releases me and I collapse into the bed..

“Remember your place, Sienna,” He says as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his hands.

“I own you and you know what will happen when you try to escape from me.” He pauses. “Don’t for a second think this,” he gestures to the bed, to me, “means anything.”

And just like that he walks out while closing the door behind him.