~The Good wife's Punishment~

Chapter Four

Pain was the first thing I felt when consciousness crept back in…a deep, brutal ache that radiated from my core through every muscle, every bone.

I'd woken earlier, when pale morning light filtered through the curtains, but moving had been impossible. My body felt broken, used up, wrung out like something disposable. It wasn't my first time with Julien, but last night had been different. Last night, I'd said no. Last night, he hadn't cared.

Hours. He'd kept me there for hours, taking what he wanted while I lay beneath him like a corpse, counting the seconds until it would end. And then, at the height of it all, when his fingers dug bruises into my hips, he'd groaned another woman's name into my hair.

*Véronique.*

I'd felt something die inside me in that moment. Some last fragile hope that this was still a marriage, still love and still something worth saving.

Now it was evening, and my body finally allowed me to sit up, though every movement sent sharp protests through my spine. The bedroom was empty. Julien's side of the bed was cold.

I found him in his study, immaculate in a fresh suit, looking at his phone like last night had never happened.

"You're awake." He didn't look up. "Good. We have a gala tonight. Wear the emerald dress. The one with the high neck,I don't want anyone seeing those marks."

I touched my throat reflexively, feeling the tender spots where his mouth had been too rough. Of course. Evidence had to be hidden.

"Julien, I'm not sure I can…I'm still very sore—"

"The money's been sent." He finally looked at me, his expression flat. "Twenty-five thousand euros to your mother's account. So you'll be at that gala, and you'll smile, and you'll play your part. Understood?"

Twenty-five thousand euros. The price of my body. The cost of my family's approval.

I smiled, even though it felt like my face might crack. "Thank you."

"Be ready by seven."

***********************

The gala was held at the Hôtel de Crillon, all glittering chandeliers and champagne fountains and people who'd never known what it meant to go without. I stood in the emerald dress that covered my bruises, my hair swept down to hide the ones on my neck, my makeup perfect enough to hide the exhaustion in my eyes.

Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the Parisian night into a blur of darkness and water.

Julien had abandoned me the moment we'd arrived, gravitating toward a cluster of women in the center of the ballroom like a planet pulled by gravity. They orbited him—models, socialites, women with perfect faces and trust funds and the kind of confidence that came from never being told they weren't enough.

I watched from my corner, champagne going warm in my hand, as he laughed at something a blonde said. As he touched the small of a brunette's back. As he leaned in close to whisper something to a redhead that made her giggle and blush.

He was flirting openly and shamelessly while I stood twenty feet away, his wife, invisible. Why did he bring me here if he had known that he won't parade around with me?

The jealousy burned hotter than the pain between my legs. I'd paid for his attention last night, paid in bruises and humiliation and the taste of another woman on his lips. And now he couldn't even pretend I existed.

I set down my glass and crossed the ballroom, my heels clicking against marble. The women saw me coming first, their conversations faltering as I approached.

"Julien." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

He turned, and the warmth in his expression evaporated instantly. "I'm in the middle of something, Camille."

"It'll just take a second…"

"I said I'm busy." His tone was sharp enough to cut. "Can't you see I'm talking to important people?"

The blonde,I recognized her now, some heiress to a fashion empire,raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Is this your wife, Julien? How... quaint."

"Yes, this is Camille." He didn't look at me. "She's not used to these events. Still learning how things work."

Heat flooded my face. "I just wanted…"

"What?" He finally turned fully toward me, his eyes cold. "What could you possibly want that's more important than the conversation I was having? These women represent millions in potential business. What do you represent, Camille?"

The question hung in the air like a blade. The women tittered behind their champagne flutes.

"I'm your wife," I whispered.

"Yes. My wife. Who apparently doesn't understand basic social etiquette." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "When I'm networking, you don't interrupt. You don't demand my attention like some needy child. You wait until you're called for. Is that clear?"

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "I just thought…"

"You thought wrong." He glanced back at the women, his smile returning like a mask sliding into place. "I apologize for my wife. She's still adjusting to this world."

The brunette, dripping in diamonds, looked me up and down with obvious disdain. "Where did you say you were from, darling?"

"She didn't." The redhead's smile was poisonous. "But I'm guessing somewhere... Poor."

They laughed. All of them, these polished, perfect women who'd never scrubbed floors or worn secondhand clothes or watched their parents drown in debt. They laughed at me while Julien stood there and let them.

"Wait a second," the blonde said, "isn't she that girl? The one from the charity case story? I remember reading about it—a poor orphan marries a billionaire. Very Cinderella."

"Except Cinderella had better posture," the redhead added.

My hands clenched at my sides. "Julien…"

"Enough." His voice cracked like a whip. "You've embarrassed me enough for one evening, Camille. I think you need to learn a lesson about respect."

"What?"

He grabbed my arm, his fingers finding the bruises from last night with unerring accuracy. I gasped as he steered me toward the terrace doors.

"Julien, what are you doing?"

He pushed open the doors, and rain immediately pelted my face, soaking through the emerald dress in seconds. The cold was shocking, stealing my breath.

"Your punishment," he said calmly, "for interrupting important business, is that you'll stand out here. In the rain. Until I'm done entertaining my guests."

"You can't be serious…"

"I'm going to drop each of those ladies at their cars personally. Make sure they get home safely. Be the gentleman they deserve." His smile was cruel. "And you're going to stand right here and think about how to behave properly at events like this. Maybe the cold will help you remember your place."

"Julien, please…"

"Please what? Please let you come inside and continue embarrassing me? Please treat you like you're one of them?" He gestured at the women watching us from inside, their faces pressed against the glass like spectators at a zoo. "You're not one of them, Camille. You never will be. They have breeding, class, education. You have nothing but the last name I gave you."

The rain was coming down harder now, plastering my hair to my skull, running mascara down my cheeks.

"How long?" My voice shook.

"As long as it takes. Could be an hour. Could be three. Depends on how much attention each lady requires." He leaned in close, his breath warm against my frozen ear. "And if you move from this spot, if you go inside or leave or do anything other than stand here and wait like the obedient wife you claim to be, that twenty-five thousand euros? Will be the last money your parents will receive from me. I know you don't want that."

He pulled back, studying my face.

"So. Are you going to be a good wife?"

I couldn't speak. Could only nod as water streamed into my eyes, my mouth, drowning me while I stood perfectly still.

"That's what I thought." He stepped back inside and closed the terrace doors, leaving me alone in the storm.

Through the rain-blurred glass, I watched him return to his circle of beautiful women. I watched him laugh, I watched him escort the blonde toward the exit, his hand on the small of her back.

I stood in the rain and waited for my husband to finish with other women.

Because I was a good wife and good wives knew their place.