Chapter 003: Bellydancers

I woke up in darkness. My body aching, my vagina sore.

The bed beneath was cold, just like the man who once lay beside me. I reached out to the other side of the bed, but Ryder was no longer there.

My own husband had physically assaulted me, just like when I was fifteen… with those men.

The words replayed in my head: “Aren’t you a slut?”

Why the fuck is he even calling me a slut? He doesn’t know anything about my past—no one does.

What choice did I even have back then? I had to do whatever I could to save myself and Aurora.

But she died in the process. I survived.

I’ve been through hell.

He can’t just call me a slut. It wasn’t by my will, never by my choice.

I stood up from the bed, my body heavy with pain. My legs could barely move.

My pussy was burning like fire; every step was agony. I could barely walk without stumbling.

I forced myself forward, gripping the cold walls for support. Somehow, I managed to drag myself into the bathroom and collapsed onto the toilet seat.

I exhaled sharply, my chest rising and falling.

I touched my vagina—it was slippery, wet with leftover cum.

“Oh my days…” I whispered. “He didn’t even finish in me… he just jerked on the lips of my pussy.”

A heavy sigh escaped me.

No pregnancy for me then.

I washed everything off, scrubbing my skin as if I could erase what happened. Then I stood beneath the shower, letting the water pour over me until I went numb.

Minutes later, I came out wrapped in my robe. My body was trembling, but I forced myself to sit in front of the mirror. I began my morning skincare routine, my reflection looking more like a stranger than myself.

A sharp knock shattered the silence.

“Come in,” I said, my voice low.

The maid stepped inside, eyes downcast. “Good day, ma’am. Mr. Vale requested that you meet him at the dining room—and he said you shouldn’t waste his time.”

“Okay,” I replied.

She turned to leave.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my heart pounding.

What does he want? How am I supposed to face him after what he did to me last night?

Damn it, I’m too curious.

I dropped the brush from my hand, my routine abandoned.

Walking to the wardrobe, I pulled out a pair of crisp grey sweatpants and a black tee.

This should do, I whispered under my breath, slipping into them before shoving my feet into fuzzy slippers.

I forced myself downstairs, each step heavier than the last.

But halfway down, my heart froze.

Oh no

Oh no

I can’t do this. I can’t face him. Not after…

Yet if I didn’t show up on time, I knew I’d be in deep trouble.

A few agonizing minutes of hesitation later, I gathered the last shreds of courage and pushed forward.

In the dining room, I froze again. “Uhmm… where’s he?” I muttered.

Then I turned to my right—there he was.

He stood by the snooker table, cue stick in his hand. His eye narrowed as he lined up the blue ball, but when he struck, he missed, the sound of the cue cracking against the board echoing like a threat.

He grabbed a glass of whiskey and swallowed it down, clearing his throat .

“What took you so long?” he sneered, his eyes cutting through me.

“I—I was dressing when she came in. I rushed to get here,” I stammered, my voice breaking.

Silence. His gaze lingered on me.

“Hmm. I have a suggestion,” he said finally, his voice low.

“But that suggestion favours only me.”

I swallowed hard, my head nodding before I could stop myself.

“Wait—did I just say suggestion?” He chuckled darkly.

“No. It’s not a suggestion.

It’s a fact. A certainty.”He spat.

“O… okay. What is it?” I asked.

“Don’t rush me,” he said.

I swallowed hard.

“I want us to have an open marriage,” he said as if it meant nothing.

My eyes widened in shock.

“What?” I muttered, my voice high.

“You heard me clearly ,” he replied.

“Why? No — I don’t want an open marriage, Ryder. What the hell are you talking about?”

He tilted his head, lips curling into that cruel smirk that used to be charming.

“I’m not asking for your validation, Maya. I’m informing you. So you’re aware. That’s it. You may leave.”

“But Ryder… why? Who are you planning to have an affair with? Please—don’t tell me it’s Isla.”

His smirk deepened. “Lucky guess.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t divorce your stinky ass,” he bit out.

“You can leave now. My woman will be here soon. I don’t want her uncomfortable by your… you-know—presence.”

The words cut through me like a knife.

“I do not agree. I don’t want an open marriage,” I said, forcing my voice to steady and sound firm.

He laughed. “I do not care, Maya.”

“The reason I said this would favour just me is because—look at you. Which man would ever want you?”

My heart froze.

“Why?” I whispered. “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much? Just hear my own side of the story please.”

His jaw clenched. Something flickered in his eyes again—an expression I couldn’t name, something like guilt tangled with nostalgia—then he blinked and it was gone.

He scoffed. “You fooled Granny twice, Maya. You won’t fool me. I know what this is—part of your manipulation.”

“Fool Granny?” I echoed, stunned.

“Yes. You convinced her to pick you, to marry you into the Vale family, all so you could get your hands on our name, our property.”

The words hit harder than any slap.

“Leave before I lose my mind,” he said, low and dangerous.

He wasn’t bluffing. There was something truly menacing in his voice.

I backed out immediately and ran upstairs.

I reached my room and shut the door behind me with trembling hands.

I can’t even cry anymore. I just can’t .

I’m so fucking tired.

Life’s just unfair, what did I ever do to deserve all this? Since my childhood, I’ve never known peace.

I pushed myself onto the bed

Arghhh fuck it all.

Fuck Ryder.

Fuck Isla.

Fuck Dominic.

Fuck Helena.

Fuck Luther.

Fuck you all that made my whole life miserable till now.

I lifted my head to check the clock. It was still 1:00 p.m.

Argh, why’s the time so slow?

Once it was 7:00 p.m., I would leave this house for the night. I needed the pain to leave me—even if only for a little while, not forever, just temporarily.

The motherfucker didn’t even care if other men touched his wife. Fine. No problem. It’s all good.

Hours later—

I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in my backless latex mini dress and my Balenciaga heels.

I let my hair fall in loose waves, and my red lipliner gleamed on my lips. I looked perfect, but in Ryder’s eyes, he never saw any of this—just my flaws.

I exhaled sharply.

I picked up my phone—the asshole had broken the back glass, like he had paid for it. Tch.

I booked an Uber. The ride would be here in eight minutes.

I grabbed my pink Coach bag. Hmm, it matches—black gown, pink bag, black heels. I smiled faintly, forcing some composure.

I went downstairs and reached the entrance of the house.

There they were: Ryder and Isla.

“Where do you think you’re going, old hag?” Isla sneered. I ignored her.

“Ryder, you see… you just gave her a chance. Not even up to twenty-four hours, and she’s ready to fornicate. What type of whore did you even marry?” Isla spat.

“Isla! Watch your words. I won’t let you speak to me like that,” I said, pointing my index finger at her.

“Hey, how dare you raise your voice at my woman? It’s the truth she’s saying. You just get off our premises,” Ryder sneered.

I nodded silently and walked to the driveway. My ride was here.

“Good evening, ma’am. Please confirm your ride,” the driver said.

“Confirmed,” I replied. I inhaled deeply and exhaled.

The memories of everything came crashing back throughout the ride. I didn’t even notice when we reached Noir, one of the city’s famous bars.

I stood in front of it, reading the banner.

Fortunately, they had a show tonight. Belly dancers from Egypt, Mexico, and India.

At least I’d be entertained.

I stormed inside. The smell of alcohol mixed with heavy Arabian cologne hit me immediately.

I made my way to the bartender and sat on a bar stool, pretending not to notice the whispers and cocky laughter from the men around me. That rich-man kind of laugh.

I turned and noticed eyes on me. My heart froze. This is weird, I muttered.

From a distance, one man couldn’t stop staring.

Eww, weirdo, I muttered, turning back to the bar.

“Glass of Henny,” I told the bartender, my voice flat.

“Sure, ma’am.”

I took a slow sip. The burn went down my throat. I hoped it would burn my pain away too.

The music thumped around me. I swayed slightly on the stool, just enough to feel something. My hips moved with the rhythm—slow and lazy.

But the heaviness in my chest? Still there. Like a rock pressing down.

The more I drank, the more memories surfaced. My marriage was falling apart. My life… miserable.

“Can I get whiskey?” I said. “No, add it to the Hennessy. Make it a bottle.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure about that, ma’am?”

“Don’t question me. Just do it.”

His hands shook slightly as he poured. I downed the glass in seconds. Then another. And another.

The music got louder. My thoughts blurred.

I danced on my stool at first, then let the beat pull me up. My heels clicked against the floor as I walked toward the stage.

That’s when I got lost.

My hands lifted above my head. I swayed my hips, rolling to the rhythm.

My hair whipped around me as I danced like the world didn’t exist. For the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled.

The people around me clapped, clearly enjoying the energy I brought. I laughed as the belly dancers on stage moved with me like old friends.

Some men tried grabbing my ass. I didn’t flinch. Greedy little cunts.

Someone shouted something about tipping me.

Another tried shoving money into my bra.

I moved to the edge of the stage, resting my hands on my knees as I bent forward to catch my breath.

A strand of hair fell across my face, and I pushed it back.

“She’s just a corpse in lingerie… old hag… she has a yeast infection, she can’t conceive… let’s have an open marriage.”

Those bastards. Those fucking bastards. Why? Why must I live like this? Why must I act like their pawn?

I am fucking human—just like them. How dare they!

“Fuck everyone!” I yelled. “Crazy bastards! Fuck you, Isla! Fuck you, Ryder! Fuck you, father! Fuck—fuck you all!”

“You need to shake it off kitten,” a deep voice said.

I blinked up, trying to focus. Everything was spinning—the lights, the music, the people—all a blur.

“Huh, wh… what do you want from me, asshole?” I slurred. “You wanna… huh… eat my ass? Huh? Huh?”

Yes… they said I’m a slut, a whore, a hoe… my husband and sister.

“Yes… you should eat my ass,” I muttered in a drunk, slurred voice.

My head felt heavy. The Henny and whiskey combo was hitting hard.

Before I knew it, I was scooped into whoever’s ands.

“Bitch, let go of me! Let me go this instant!”

Arghhh!

“W…h…y me? Why?”

He didn’t answer.

I was completely ignored. My head throbbed. I felt a cold breeze on my skin.

“Hey, where are you taking me? To… to eat my pussy?”

Ignored.

Then… I was in a car.

Suddenly… everything faded.