Chapter 2 GOOD LITTLE WIFE

Stacy’s POV

The morning sunlight hurt my eyes as I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. My lower back throbbed with each movement, a reminder of last night. I'd barely slept, but that didn't matter. Breakfast still needed to be made.

I set the plates on the dining table just as Matt came down, his phone pressed to his ear. He was laughing at something the person on the other end said, his face bright and animated. It was strange seeing him so happy when he never looked at me that way.

"Yeah, I'll be there," he said into the phone. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

He hung up and sat down without even glancing at me. I poured his coffee, my hands slightly shaky from exhaustion.

"Good morning," I said softly, sitting across from him.

"Mm," he grunted, scrolling through his phone.

I watched him for a moment, gathering courage. "Matt, I saw on the calendar that you're planning another trip?"

His eyes snapped up to mine, cold and sharp. "And?"

"I just... you've been traveling a lot lately. I thought maybe—"

"You thought maybe what, Stacy?" His voice had an edge to it. "That I need your permission?"

My stomach twisted. "No, I didn't mean—"

"I can do whatever I want," he said, his tone mocking. "I work hard for this family. If I want to take a business trip, I'll take one. You don't get to question that."

"I wasn't questioning. I was just asking—"

"It sounded like questioning to me." He cut into his pancakes aggressively. "Maybe if you had an actual job, you'd understand how business works."

I bit my lip, feeling the familiar sting of humiliation. Before I could respond, I heard voices from the hallway.

Oh no. Not this morning.

Matt's parents walked into the dining room, his mother's heels clicking against the hardwood floor. My mother-in-law, Patricia, wore a perfectly pressed suit, her hair styled immaculately. Matt's father, Robert, followed behind her in his usual stern silence.

"Good morning," I said, forcing a smile and standing up.

"Sit down, Stacy," Patricia said dismissively, waving her hand. "No need for theatrics."

I sat back down, my face burning. Matt didn't even defend me. He just continued eating like nothing happened.

"Matthew, darling, we need to discuss the quarterly reports," Robert said, settling into a chair. "The numbers from last month were impressive."

"Thanks, Dad," Matt said, his whole demeanor changing. He sat up straighter, proud.

Patricia turned her sharp gaze to me. "Stacy, these pancakes are undercooked in the middle."

I looked down at my plate. They weren't undercooked. I'd made them the same way I always did. "I'm sorry. I can make more—"

"Don't bother," she said, pushing her plate away. "I've lost my appetite anyway."

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could feel their judgment pressing down on me like a physical weight.

"So, Stacy," Patricia said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Any news you'd like to share with us?"

I knew what she was asking. She asked it every single time she visited.

"No, not yet," I said quietly.

Patricia sighed dramatically. "Three years, Stacy. Three years of marriage and still nothing."

"These things take time—" I started.

"Time?" She laughed, but it wasn't kind. "Sarah got pregnant within six months of dating Matthew. Of course, that relationship didn't work out, but at least she was fertile."

My chest tightened. There it was again. Sarah. Always Sarah.

"Mother, please," Matt said, but there was no real conviction in his voice.

"I'm just stating facts, dear," Patricia continued. "Perhaps Stacy should see a specialist. Clearly, something is wrong with her."

Something is wrong with me. Those words echoed in my head. If only they knew the truth. If only they knew their precious son refused to let me get pregnant.

"I'm sure it will happen when the time is right," I said, keeping my voice steady even though I wanted to scream.

"The time is right now," Robert added. "The Harrington name needs an heir. What's the point of this marriage if you can't even fulfill your basic duty?"

I felt tears threatening to surface. I looked at Matt, silently begging him to say something, to defend me, to tell them the truth.

But he just sipped his coffee, avoiding my eyes.

"I'm trying my best," I whispered.

"Your best isn't good enough," Patricia said sharply. "Perhaps if you spent less time moping around and more time taking care of your health—"

"I do take care of my health," I said, my voice slightly louder now. "I do everything right. It's not—"

"Are you talking back to me?" Patricia's eyes widened in mock offense.

"No, I just meant—"

"Stacy," Matt said, his voice low and warning. "Apologize to my mother."

I stared at him in disbelief. "For what?"

"For your tone," he said coldly. "For being disrespectful."

My hands clenched into fists under the table. "I'm sorry," I said through gritted teeth, even though the words tasted like poison.

Patricia sniffed. "Matthew, you need to teach your wife proper manners. Sarah never spoke to me that way."

And there it was again. The comparison. The reminder that I would never measure up.

Matt reached under the table, and I felt his hand on my thigh. I froze. His fingers squeezed, not gently, but possessively.

"Stacy knows how to behave," Matt said, his voice smooth. "Don't you, darling?"

His hand moved higher, rubbing in slow circles. My skin crawled. I tried to shift away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging in almost painfully.

"Yes," I managed to say, my voice barely audible.

"Be the perfect wife," he whispered, leaning closer so only I could hear. "That's all you have to do."

I reached down, trying to push his hand away, but he just pressed harder, his nails scraping against my skin through the fabric of my dress. The touch felt violating, wrong, especially with his parents right there.

"Matt, stop," I whispered desperately.

But he didn't. His hand moved more harshly, rubbing and groping, while he smiled at his parents like nothing was happening.

I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm not feeling well."

"Stacy—" Patricia started, but I was already walking away.

I heard Matt say something to his parents, probably making excuses for my behavior. I didn't care. I just needed to get away.

I made it to our bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it. My whole body was trembling. Disgust rolled through me in waves. How could he touch me like that in front of his parents? How could he humiliate me and then expect me to just smile and take it?

The door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall. Matt stood there, his face twisted with rage.

"How dare you?" he growled, stepping inside and slamming the door behind him.

"Matt, I—"

He grabbed me by the shoulders and pinned me against the wall, his face inches from mine. "How dare you walk away from that table?"

"You were touching me," I said, trying to push him away. "You were—"

"I'm your husband," he snarled. "I can touch you whenever I want."

His hand moved to my throat, not squeezing hard enough to cut off my air, but enough to make his point. Enough to remind me who had the power.

"Please," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "Please, Matt."

His expression suddenly changed, softening into something that might have looked like affection if I didn't know better.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice turning gentle. "Don't cry, baby. I just want you to be happy."

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Happy? How could I be happy like this?

"I'll make you happy," he continued, his thumb stroking my cheek while his other hand still pressed against my throat. "I'll give you everything you want. Just behave, okay? Just be good for me."

The disgust I felt was overwhelming. I knew this act. I'd seen it before. He was building up to something. He wanted something from me.

"What do you want, Matt?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He pulled back slightly, releasing my throat but keeping me trapped against the wall with his body.

"There's a business event next weekend," he said. "A big one. Important clients, potential investors."

"And?" I asked, though I already knew where this was going.

"And I need you there," he said. "I need you to play the role of the perfect wife. Make my guests happy, like you did last time."

"Like always," I said bitterly.

His jaw clenched. "Yes, like always. Because that's your job, Stacy. That's the only thing you're good for."

The words hit me like a slap, but I didn't flinch. I was too tired to react anymore.

"So will you do it?" he asked, his hand moving back to my throat, applying just enough pressure to make me uncomfortable. "Will you be my good little wife at the Sterling Gala?"