Chapter 8: The Perfect Wife.

I clutched the test in both hands, pressing it to my chest in a silent prayer.

Maybe this would change things. Maybe it would remind Brad that I was more than property. That I was human. And now, a mother to be.

Maybe.

That night, after dinner, I shared the news with him.

“Brad,” I said quietly, my voice betraying my anxiety. “I’m pregnant.”

He looked up from his phone, his finger pausing mid-air. Then, a slow smile spread across his face.

“Well…” he said, leaning back in his chair, his expression cold. “Isn’t that something?”

I felt like I was standing on a tightrope.

“Yeah. How do you feel about that?”

He rose from his seat.

“Wait for me,” he said, patting my hair lightly. Then he grabbed his keys. “I’ll be right back.”

For half an hour, I washed the dishes and tidied up while waiting.

When he finally returned, his footsteps sounded louder than before. He held a small whiteoʻ paper bag, which he set on the dining table.

Opening it up, he took out a pill. “Take this.”

I frowned. “What is that?”

“Something to fix it.”

My blood ran cold. “Fix what?”

He smiled.

“Getting pregnant wasn’t part of our little arrangement, sweetheart. I don't do kids.”

I stared at the single white pill.

“Now,” he said softly, his tone smooth like velvet, “be a good girl, and swallow it.”

“No!” The word came out too strongly.

His brow arched.

I immediately dialed down my tone. “I mean… It's a baby. And I can take care of it by myself. I'm not asking you to-”

“Unacceptable,” he said flatly. “I won't share you with anyone. I would have your full attention or nothing.”

“Anyone? My voice broke in disbelief. “It's your baby-” I didn't get to finish the sentence.

He slammed his hand on the table. The bottle of water on it shook, and I flinched.

“Take it.”

The pill trembled in his palm, which still hung between us.

For a long moment, I just stared at it. It was every hope I had left, crushed into something small enough to swallow.

He watched me, his gaze daring me to refuse.

I took one step back from the table. “Brad, please.”

But pleading only ever fueled him. He circled around to where I stood, like a predator drawn by the scent of weakness.

“You could take it willingly,” he said slowly in his low voice. “Or I could make you. Your choice.”

Without thinking, I turned and bolted for the stairs, my heart racing. The carpet blurred beneath my feet. Before I could slam the bedroom door shut, his shoe caught it, and a loud thud jolted through my arm.

“No,” I gasped.

He grabbed me, forced my mouth open, and dropped the pill inside. Water from a bottle followed immediately.

I fought, but I gulped. Then I coughed repeatedly.

“There you go,” he said, patting my back softly.

That night, he forced himself on me again and again, reminding me that my life and my father's depended on my continuous total submission.

By morning, I was numb and sleep-deprived.

Yet, I had to play nice.

“Can I have some money? For contraceptives… please?” I asked, my eyes burning. “If you don't want kids, maybe I shouldn't be getting pregnant at all.”

“Mm.” He looked up from his breakfast, which he was just finishing. “Why didn't I think of that?”

He walked over to me, brushing away a tear before it dropped. He tucked a few bills into my palm like he was rewarding a child.

“Buy some antibiotics and lots of fruits too. You'll be needing them.”

The bastard was already preparing me for the side effects of what he'd done.

And when it finally happened, though I'd braced for it, it still broke me.

I spent the agonizing night on the cold floor of the guest bathroom curled up in pain, bleeding and overwhelmed with grief.

“I'm so sorry,” I sobbed, talking to a baby I would never meet.

Though an intense sense of loss enveloped me, I felt a bit of relief.

“It’s for the best,” I whispered. “I'd never be able to protect you here.”

Brad's cruelty ran deeper than I could ever imagine. Even his flesh and blood wasn't spared from his monstrosity.

Days bled into weeks, each one a little emptier than the last.

The bleeding had stopped, but the ache hadn’t. It persisted like a deep wound that refused to close.

Brad went on as usual. But something inside me had changed.

The tears that used to come easily no longer did. The fear was still there, but it was quieter now.

Colder.

Somewhere between the chores and the silence, I started to think of life away from here again.

I began skimming cash from the shopping allowances bit by bit, hiding money in places his pride would never let him look.

While he gloried in my submissiveness, believing he’d tamed me.

Each day, I waited.

Each night, I counted...

One day less.

~~~~~

Finally, escape was two weeks away. It had to be. Otherwise, I'd run out of time.

The pills had failed. I was pregnant again.

“Look alive, sweetheart!” Brad exclaimed. “It's a party, not a funeral.”

“Mm-hm.” I gave him my well-practiced smile.

We were on our way to his partner, Spencer's birthday party.

He veered the car off the main road and parked in front of Spencer’s house.

It was one week into the new year, and the Lawrence night air buzzed with optimism; a promise of new beginnings, resolutions, and expectations.

The living room glowed under bright lights, alive with low music, lively chatter, and the clink of glasses.

Guests stood or sat in small clusters, perfectly at ease in a world I never belonged in.

Brad’s hand rested on the small of my back as we wove our way through the crowd. To anyone watching, we looked perfect together.

“Smile,” he murmured into my ear.

I did. Until my cheeks hurt. I kept nodding at guests who smiled at or greeted us, trying not to look too lost.

Brad thrived in settings like these. He was brilliant, magnetic, and all charm. His guys from the department clapped him on the back, and the women laughed a little too loudly at his jokes.

I sat where he told me to, spoke only when spoken to, pretending to sip my wine.

Across the room, Brad leaned into a beautiful blonde, his grin a little too wide. Her manicured hand lingered on his arm as she whispered something.

I looked away, pretending to find something interesting on my plate.

When I finally looked back at him, his eyes caught mine with his warning smile.

I forced a smile and went back to being invisible.

Of course, Brad didn't know I was pregnant again. Not yet. And he won't.

This time, I was going to save my baby. I only needed two weeks to be ready, so I endured this humiliation.

The party went on.

And through it all, I played my part, the perfect wife in his perfect life.