Two

The chandelier above the dining table cast a warm, golden glow that felt like a cruel joke. Everything in the Blackwood mansion was designed to impress, crystal glasses, silver cutlery polished to a mirror shine, and the heavy scent of roasted meat and expensive wine filling the air. Laughter bounced off the walls as if this was any normal family dinner instead of a transaction disguised as hospitality.

I sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, hands folded tightly in my lap, staring at the untouched plate in front of me. The food smelled rich, but my stomach was a tight knot. Reginald Voss sat near the head of the table, his thick fingers wrapped around a glass of red wine. At sixty eight, he still carried himself with the arrogance of a man who bought whatever he wanted. His brother, a quieter, thinner version of him named Harold, sat beside him, nodding along to every joke.

Margaret presided over it all like a queen, her black mourning dress swapped for deep emerald silk. Sophia was glowing in a tight red number, her best friend Lila perched next to her. Lila had always hated me, ever since I’d married Adrian and “taken” her precious spot in the family circle. Tonight she kept shooting me poisonous glances between bites of steak.

They were all talking and laughing, voices overlapping in that fake, polished way rich people do when business is involved. Reginald was telling some story about a rival who’d crossed him last year, how the man’s warehouses mysteriously burned down. Harold chuckled. Margaret smiled indulgently. Sophia and Lila leaned in, hanging on every word.

I didn’t speak. I barely breathed. My cheek still stung from earlier, and my mind kept replaying Margaret’s casual announcement like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. Mr. Voss. My future husband. The thought made my skin crawl.

“These young girls today,” Reginald said, gesturing with his fork, “they need a firm hand. Don’t you agree, Margaret?”

“Oh, absolutely,” my mother in law replied smoothly. “Eva here has been… learning that lesson slowly.”

More laughter. I kept my head down, counting the threads in the napkin on my lap. The conversation blurred into noise, contracts, shipments, territories. Mafia business dressed up as dinner talk. I was just another asset on the table.

A few minutes passed. Then Margaret’s voice cut through the chatter, sharp and expectant.

“Eva, won’t you stand up and pour your husband a drink?”

The table went quiet for a beat. My fingers tightened in my lap. Slowly, I lifted my head. Everyone was staring at me now. Reginald’s eyes lingered on my chest, a sleazy smile playing on his lips.

I swallowed hard. My voice came out as a timid whisper, barely audible. “He’s… he’s not my husband.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Margaret’s chair scraped back violently as she shot to her feet. Before I could brace myself, her hand connected with my face in a vicious slap. My head jerked sideways, pain exploding across my cheekbone. The force nearly knocked me out of my seat.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” she hissed, voice low and venomous. “After everything we’ve done for you? After we took you in?”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back. The others watched with varying degrees of amusement. Reginald let out a deep, rumbling laugh that turned my blood cold.

“Don’t worry about it, Margaret,” he said, waving a hand like the slap was nothing more than entertainment. “When we get married, I’ll teach her how to respect me properly. Break her in nice and slow. Or fast, depending on my mood.” He winked at me. “I like them with a little fire at first.”

A single tear slipped down my stinging cheek, hot and humiliating. I didn’t wipe it away. Showing weakness only made it worse, I’d learned that the hard way with Adrian.

Lila’s sharp laugh cut through the air. She reached across the table without warning, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back hard. Pain shot through my scalp as strands pulled tight.

“Look at her,” Lila sneered, her pretty face twisted with genuine hatred. “Sitting there like a scared little mouse. Pathetic. Adrian spoiled you too much.”

Sophia smiled sweetly at Reginald, twirling her wine glass. “You know, Mr. Voss, you don’t have to wait for the wedding. Why not take her upstairs right now? Taste her. See how sweet she is before you sign the papers.” Her eyes sparkled with malice. “Consider it a… family gift. Break her in tonight. She’s used to it.”

The table erupted in laughter again. Even Harold joined in, chuckling like it was the funniest suggestion he’d heard all night. Reginald’s eyes lit up with dark interest. He set his glass down with a heavy clink and pushed his chair back.

“Come on, baby,” he said, voice thick with anticipation. “Let’s go have some fun.”

He stood and rounded the table toward me. His hand clamped down on my arm like a vice, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise. I froze for half a second before panic exploded through me.

“No..please!” I cried out, trying to pull away. My chair tipped over as he dragged me to my feet. “Please, don’t! Let me go!”

I dug my heels into the rug, but he was stronger than he looked. My free hand grabbed at the edge of the table, knocking over a glass. Red wine spilled across the white tablecloth like blood. Reginald laughed louder, enjoying my struggle. He yanked me harder, pulling me toward the grand staircase.

“Stop fighting, sweetheart. You’ll learn to like it. Or you won’t. Either way, you’re mine now.”

“Mr. Voss, please!” I was screaming now, tears streaming freely down my face. My voice cracked with terror. “I’m begging you, don’t do this! Someone....anyone....please!”

Behind us, the laughter continued. Margaret’s amused chuckle. Sophia and Lila whispering excitedly. No one moved to help. This was just another Tuesday night in the Blackwood house, another way to remind me exactly where I stood. Property. Currency. Nothing more.

My bare feet slipped on the polished floor as he dragged me closer to the stairs. My dress rode up, and I clawed at his arm, sobbing uncontrollably. The fear was suffocating, raw and animal. I could already imagine his heavy body on mine, the smell of his cologne mixed with wine, the pain...

“Stop.”

The single word sliced through the air like a blade, cold, low, and commanding. It wasn’t loud, but it froze everyone in place.

Reginald’s grip on my arm loosened just slightly. The laughter died instantly.

I turned my head toward the entrance of the dining room, heart hammering wildly in my chest, tears still blurring my vision.