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Mauve Scarlet,

The wind brushed past my face, as my ginger red hair danced over my shoulders. Nibbling the pencil, I watched the black swan, swimming in the lake all alone.

The small waves around it made me smile despite the turmoil in my mind. The swan was alone but at least it was free. It didn't need to give away its identity and freedom in exchange for money.

Painting and sketching is my hobby. But after the marriage to Alessandro, my dream has turned into a wishful dream for a long time.

"Mistress! Master has returned. He is wishing your presence in his study!" Grace, the head maid calmly notified, keeping a certain distance from me.

Her eyes flickered to the sketch before lowering her gaze with a swift, rehearsed move. She tucked her hair behind her ear as the wind blew past her strongly.

"Thank you for informing me!" I politely nodded and started gathering my stuff.

"Let me do it!" Grace grabbed everything and gave an awkward smile, "It will be best if Master doesn't find it out!"

She gave me a pitiful smile before taking all the tools to the storehouse. I took a deep breath, my chest rose and fell with that emptiness I always felt soon after I got married to him—Alessandro Simmons, the richest man in the Pack and one of the most ruthless and controlling men I have ever met after my abusive drug addict father.

The emptiness wasn’t just a feeling. It clung to my ribs like a phantom, like a hollow ache that never ceased gnawing at my insides.

"Mistress!" Carl Franklin, the butler, gave a polite nod before opening the door of the study for me. He ushered me to the room while revealing my husband's back as he stood behind.

My husband of three years stood in front of the glass wall, facing the garden.

The moment I realized the direction he was in, my chest tightened, aching with a heavy weight that pushed against my lungs. He might have seen me sketching today. What will happen? Will he burn them again? Because I broke the silent rule I was supposed not to.

"Good evening, Mr Simmons!" I greeted quietly, standing right on the place I should be. I checked my hair, my nails, and then my clothes. He hated messy things, even the married life we had.

"Good Evening! Please take a seat!" He walked to the desk and sat first before pointing me to sit.

His voice was icy as usual. In his life, I was another employee or rather say a doll who had the fixed program that he had input the day we signed the cold marriage certificate.

I nodded quietly with my slow and quiet move to rest my back on the wooden chair. My breath was on hold when I sat. In front of him, I wasn't making a clumsy mistake, not even a loud laughter.

"So, you seem to have been enjoying your time here!" He stated, leaning into the chair with a cold and indifferent gesture. "Are you adjusting well? Mrs Simmons."

Anxious, I gripped the hem of the dress before nodding, "It's been three years since I moved in here, it's like a home to me now!" I muttered, my chest tightening with a bit of suffocation. Each word scratched at my throat on its way out, echoing the ache I carried inside every day.

It wasn't easy to be his wife in paper. If he let me live as just a wife in paper, I would have been fine. To him, I was the perfect replacement for his first love. Cliché but true.

I am Mauve Scarlet, who used to be a waitress at a café nearby the Simmons' company with more than 9 million dollars debt. My father who was an abusive asshole, took everything and ran away, leaving all the debts on my shoulders.

And, somehow I resembled this man's first love and I was offered to be his wife in exchange for the debts I had thanks to my father.

"Have you taken your vitamins today? Ms Scarlet!"

He stood up, grabbing the tissue paper from the tissue box. He walked towards me as I tried to answer him honestly.

"Yes. Mrs. Grace helped me to take them in time!" As I responded, he nodded quietly before he leaned closer to me and wiped the lipstick off my lips.

"You shouldn't wear the lipstick that doesn't suit you!" He whispered, his eyes holding that disapproval gaze.

I clutched my hem more tightly, a sudden pressure filling my chest like a thousand silent screams pushing against my ribs. "Sorry."

Nude red lipstick had never been my favorite. But I had to put it on every day.

My eyes shut as he pressed his lips against mine while his other hand reached my dress's zips. "You shouldn't do something I don't like, Ms Scarlet! It's a violation of the contract!"

I flinched when he bit the bottom lip of mine, and then sucked the blood like he was tasting my pain.

"Carl will burn them for you! Don't touch any brushes until we get divorced! I don't have time to make it a big deal but I hate when you don't act according to our contract!" His voice was cold enough to send me a shiver.

And , It was enough to convey the message that he was trying to keep his temper in check so that I wouldn't regret disobeying his rules.

I nodded quietly, swallowing the lump inside my throat. A shiver ran down my spine, giving me the heartache with the realization that the discovery would lead him to destroy my own hobbies in front of me. Or something more than just some pieces of artwork.

"Sorry, I was bored!" I muttered, my voice shaky. I was so terrified that I couldn't meet his eyes. The cold sweats gathered on my forehead. I was too careful, too careful to make a small mistake. How did he come today at this hour and caught me doing something that he absolutely hated?

"Then you should play piano, dance and come to me." He whispered against my lips with his cold eyes meeting mine, "You won't be bored if you follow your rules!"

Tears gathered around my eyes when he tore the dress apart and scooped me into his arms. "Did you take your birth control pills?"

My breath hitched, "Yes! I did!"

"Good job! Don't forget. I don't want you to have my baby!" He walked towards the bedroom, holding me in his arms. The scent of his body felt calming but my heart felt like a caged animal, screaming to run away.

Carl was standing outside. When he saw us, me in nothing but the undergarments, he turned and walked away.

It wasn't a rare occurrence.

In this house, everyone had witnessed me in this way and they knew—like they had to clean the house every day without any complaints, I had to follow his rules without saying another word.

I was just a placeholder who needed to do what the original owner of the place was supposed to do if he had ever married her.