2.

Next time you bring me trash like this, I’ll let you go hungry,” Adrian said, his tone sharp but cold. Then he walked out the door to work.

I stood there for a moment, teeth clenched, forcing myself not to cry. Then I cleared the plates and pushed the food down the sink.

All day, my head throbbed, my hand was swollen, my vision kept blurring, but I didn’t see a doctor. I never did. Once, I’d tried to speak up, my stepmother spat at me, “So you’ve stolen your cousin’s man, and now you want to drag his name through the mud?” After that, I kept my mouth shut.

I tied up my hair, put on some makeup to hide the swelling, and went to the little studio where I worked. Videography paid me just enough to survive, but not much more. Halfway through a meeting, my phone buzzed. Adrian. His voice was calm. That was always a bad sign.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m at work,” I said carefully.

He laughed. “That? That’s not work. Come home. I have something better for you.”

I left on my lunch break. As soon as I walked in, he shoved money into my hand. “Friends are coming tonight to celebrate my deal. Buy food. Cook it. And don’t mess it up.”

“But Adrian, I need to ” His eyes cut through me. “Did I ask for your excuses? Cook. And make yourself look human for once.”

So I went. I bought groceries, cooked until my back ached, and tried not to faint from the pounding in my skull. By the time Adrian came down in his suit, the food was ready. He lifted lids, tasted everything, and gave me a small, satisfied smile. “Good. At least you didn’t ruin this.” Then his gaze swept over me. “Change. You look worse than a peasant.”

I turned to go but paused. “Could the housekeeper help me serve? I’m not feeling well.” His jaw tightened. “So you think you’re too good to serve now? You’re already useless as a wife. This is the least you could do.”

I lowered my head. “Sorry."

The doorbell rang, seven guests swept into the living room four men, three women. Loud, perfumed, laughing like they owned the place. “Adrian! Congratulations!” one of the men clapped him on the back. They all looked the part of old money. I stood by the wall, waiting.

“Is that your wife?” a woman asked with a crooked smile.

Adrian didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

They glanced at each other, smirking.

“She’s…plain,” one of the men muttered.

“She’s just here to serve,” Adrian said smoothly. “Nothing more.”

I carried soup to the table, hands trembling but steady enough to pour without spilling. Still, I caught their whispers.

“She’s nothing like Kira.”

“Kira suits you more. She’s beautiful.”

At the mention of my cousin’s name, Adrian’s face lit up. “She’ll be back in two days,” he said proudly.

The table buzzed with approval. I kept moving, silent. When dessert came, I carried a tray of cake and custard. I leaned toward Ezekiel, one of Adrian’s closest friends. He shoved me, careless but deliberate. The tray slipped. Custard splashed across his white suit.

His face darkened. “Do you even know what this costs? You couldn’t afford the thread in this jacket, even if someone bought you and sold you again.”

“I’m…sorry,” I whispered.

Adrian’s expression shifted calm, cold, dangerous. He grabbed a plate and hurled it in my direction. It shattered against the wall behind me.

“I warned you not to ruin this night,” he said as he rose. His hand clamped onto my arm. He dragged me to the door.

“Adrian, please, I didn’t ”

He didn’t care. He lifted me like I weighed nothing and tossed me outside. The cold air smacked me harder than the fall. Rain clouds gathered. The wind cut through my wet dress. I grabbed his leg as he turned to shut the door.

“Please, Adrian. It’s freezing.”

He kicked me off and sneered down at me. “Pathetic, Emily. A curse on my life.” Then he slammed the door. I beat my fists on the door. “Adrian! Please!”

No answer, only laughter spilling from inside I curled up on the steps, arms around myself. The cold sank deep. My vision blurred, my body shivered, and then everything went black.