Chapter 2- It wouldn't last forever.

Melissa’s POV

“Per the contract, I built Morgan Group into a tech powerhouse. But its growth is fragile. This is a ten-billion-dollar deal locked in stability for the next decade,” I explained to our latest clients, my tone professional yet calm. The polished conference room lights reflected off the glass table.

A small thought flashed through my mind, Although Tony wouldn’t admit it, this is one thing I’ll always be proud of. Something I can finally beat my chest for.

“Yes, ma’am,” one of the men across the table said with a respectful nod. “Everyone in this field knows how good you are. That’s why our boss sent us here.”

I smiled faintly, used to hearing words like that. Compliments like these had become routine, almost mechanical, from first-time clients. Still, they meant something. They reminded me of the one thing Tony could never take away—my competence.

I leaned forward slightly to pass a document, and then afterwards to read and sign the final section.

Just immediately, my phone buzzed on the table. One glance at the screen, and my chest tightened and I noticed that the caller was Tony.

A chill ran through me. I didn’t even have to think and so I grabbed the phone immediately. The last time I missed his call during a signing, he’d accused me of “flirting with clients.” I could still remember the blow that followed and the taste of my own blood as I tried to explain.

He never listened.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello…”

His voice exploded before I could finish. “King’s Presidential Villa! Get your worthless ass over here right now, you bitch!”

My throat went dry. The clients exchanged confused glances, and I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Excuse me, please,” I murmured, turning slightly away.

“Tony,” I whispered, careful not to let my voice shake. “I’m in the middle of an important signing. Can this wait just a little? I’ll meet…”

“Disobeying my orders, bitch?” His voice rose even louder, venom seeping through every word. “If you’re not here in ten minutes, consider yourself dead meat.”

The line went dead before I could respond.

For a moment, all I could hear was the faint buzz of the fluorescent light above me. My mind scrambled to make sense of it—why he’d called, what could possibly be so urgent but deep down, I already knew it didn’t matter. When Tony said ten minutes, he meant it.

I took a deep breath, forcing my heart to steady. It must be something important, I told myself, though I knew that was wishful thinking. Still, I couldn’t risk testing his patience now. The contract of all of these had a clause that has stuck to my mind in the past three years—obedience without conditions. And Tony loved using it to remind me of my place.

But then, that familiar whisper of hope pushed through the fear. Just three more days, I reminded myself. Three more days, and this nightmare will end and I’ll finally walk away.

A throat cleared in front of me, dragging me back. One of the clients shifted in his seat. “Everything okay, Mrs. Morgan?”

I forced a nod, the corners of my mouth lifting into a tight smile. “Yes, of course. I apologize. That was… urgent.”

“Should we proceed?” another asked, politely but with a flicker of irritation.

I wanted to—God, I wanted to finish this deal.but my mind was already racing through traffic routes, calculating time. From here to the villa was a seven-minute drive, maybe less if I sped. He’d already given me ten minutes.

My pulse drummed against my throat.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, closing the folder in front of me. “Something unexpected came up. We’ll need to reschedule and then the HR will reach out to you soon.”

Before anyone could respond, I was already standing. Their disappointed faces blurred as I gathered my files and phone, whispering a quick “thank you” before hurrying out. The elevator doors closed behind me, and only then did I let out a shaky breath.

Three days, I repeated to myself. Just three more days.

The drive to King’s Presidential Villa felt longer than it should have. My grip on the steering wheel was tight and my knuckles pale from the pressure. The car stereo hummed quietly, but my thoughts drowned out the music.

Every red light felt like a countdown. Every passing second, I imagined what his face would look like, which would probably be tense, furious and ready to explode.

When I finally arrived, the guards recognized the car immediately and waved me through to the reserved parking. 

As I stepped out and went towards his usually reserved space here at the Kings presidential Villa, the sound of faint music floated through the hall. I followed the noise quietly, my heels clicking against the marble floor. With each step, the voices grew louder and of course his voice among them.

“Everyone praises Melissa,” Tony was saying, his words slurred slightly. “Even my mother treats her like royalty. But deep down, she knows everything she has is because of me. I’m the only one that truly matters in the Morgan group of companies!”

I paused by the doorway, my stomach twisting. That was a typical Tony—bragging, drunk on attention and self-importance and to think that it was almost predictable.

I should’ve turned around. But instead, I pushed the door open.

The smell of alcohol hit me first. Then the sight of Tony in a tailored suit, laughing too loud, tossing bundles of money into the air like confetti. The people around him cheered, their glasses raised, feeding his ego.

My heart sank. So this was why he’d called me here—so I could watch his little show.

I took a small breath, trying to keep my tone calm. “I’m here,” I said finally, my voice low but steady.

He turned, eyes narrowing. For a moment, I thought maybe—just maybe—he’d say something civil. But instead, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek.

The force threw me slightly off balance. I stumbled back, catching myself against the edge of a wall. The crowd went quiet, their laughter dying into awkward silence. Someone gasped and some others whispered.

A single tear slipped down my face, uninvited. I wasn’t even sure if it was from pain or from the humiliation that came with it.

Tony smirked, his tone dripping with disdain. “Took you long enough. Did you crawl here like the snail you are?”

I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back more tears. The room blurred for a moment, but I forced myself to stand tall. I’d been through worse. I wasn’t going to crumble here, certainly not in front of them.

I checked the time on my phone, my voice trembling just a little. “I was four minutes late.”

His expression darkened. “Four minutes too long.”

He turned back to his friends, laughing as if nothing had happened, leaving me standing there with my cheeks burning, heart pounding and dignity slowly bleeding out of me.

I pressed my palm gently against my face, feeling the warmth of the slap seep into my skin. Inside, my thoughts whispered the same silent prayer they always did:

Just three more days, Melissa. Three more days, and you’ll finally be free. It wouldn't last forever.