Chapter 2 (I Curse You, Dexter King!)

Aurora POV

“I am sure he is not always like that,” Maya, my mother-in-law, said, smiling at me while holding my hand. I forced out a smile.

“Thank you,” I said. She smiled at me, brushing my hair.

“You are the most beautiful bride; Dexter is so lucky to have you,” she said, her smile very wide. I nod my head, exhausted. Mr. King came to us. I have met him a few times before the wedding. He was so nice to me, which made me wonder where his son got his attitude from. He smiled at me as he walked towards me, his smile more genuine than others.

“I know this is not comfortable for you, but I am sure Dexter will come around,” he said. The funniest thing was he didn’t need to assure me; my father already sold me to them for a business contract. His reassuring words won’t do anything, but I nod my head at him. They smiled at me one last time, walking away. It was just me and my parents with Katie in the big mansion. My brothers didn’t bother sending me off, not like I expected them to.

“You’ve hit the jackpot, sister; your husband is filthy rich,” Katie said. I looked at her, knowing she wasn’t trying to be nice.

“You are now married to Dexter; please try to be a good wife to him. You have no home with us anymore, so make this your home,” father said.

“Yes, father,” I said, my head down. 

“Let’s go, Katie; I am exhausted from this hell of a wedding,” Mother said, and they walked away with Katie giggling. I stood in front of the mansion, my packed bags behind me, and all the cars drove away. Well, after I fainted and my husband left the hall, the rest of the ceremony had to be cancelled, so now it was in the afternoon, and I am still dressed in my wedding gown, my bags with me and a ring sitting on my finger. I breathed out, knowing this wasn’t the time to cry. I dragged my bags, opening the door. 

“Welcome, Mrs. King. My name is Mary, the head maid here,” the maid said as I entered. For a second, I tried to register what she called me, Mrs. King. It sounded so foreign.

“Aurora is fine,” I whispered. She smiled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t simply call Mr. King’s wife by her name,” she said, leaving no room for discussion. I nod my head.

“I will show you to your room,” she said, and I smiled. The other maids came, collecting my bags. I followed behind them, entering the elevator. Yes, this house is so big it has an elevator. I was too exhausted to admire the beauty. We got to the 2nd floor, and we went down the hallway. I saw a big frame on the wall; it was my husband. I smiled slightly; he wasn’t in a wheelchair here, and he is so handsome. An ethereal beauty, so bad his personality is the opposite of his looks.

“Mr. King’s room is down the hallway. He doesn’t like disturbance and has entrusted us to inform you not to ever come near his room,” she said, and I gulped. That sounds like a strict warning; well, the joke’s on him. I won’t go to his room for no reason.

“okay,” I said, and she smiled, opening the room. The maids wheeled my bag in, and I entered after them. The room was mostly plain, not many colours, but it was very spacious. I have to renovate this myself; at least I deserve a good-looking room. 

“Do you need anything? Or something we can help you with?” Mary asked. I shook my head.

“No, but I need help with the gown,” I said. She nodded her head, going behind me and helping me out of the wretched gown.

“Where should we keep this?” she asked.

“Do whatever you want with it; there are gems on it. You could sell this to make a fortune from it,” I said, not looking at her, but I could feel her surprised stare. She is probably wondering why I gave her my gown.

“Please, I want to be by myself,” I said. She nods her head.

“When you need anything, we are at your beck and call,” she said, and I nodded my head. After they left, I locked the door. Going to the bed, I crashed on it, finally relieving myself of the pent-up emotions. I haven’t cried since the news was announced to me, and now, as I remembered everything that happened today, I could finally allow myself to cry. 

     I hate to go on the internet, I know it’s filled with nasty things about me. My body racked sobs subs, my heart filled with hate for my family for abandoning me all my life and selling me out just because I wasn’t their favourite daughter. I don’t know how long I cried, but I cried myself to sleep.

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I walked down the stairs; we were in the night, around 10 pm. After crying myself to sleep, I slept the whole afternoon and evening. I woke up minutes ago and had my bath. I felt a bit better after crying and sleeping. I haven’t rested in a while. When I got downstairs, I walked around trying to find the kitchen, and after walking about, I finally found it. The lights were thankfully turned on because I have no idea where the switch is.

     I went to the fridge, and it was definitely filled to the brim. I took a bottle of water, drinking it down before I decided to cook something for myself to eat. After walking around the kitchen and store, I brought out ingredients, and I got cooking. I was so lost in my cooking, humming a song while I cooked. I always cooked for myself, my grandma taught me, and it’s one of my favourite things to do. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” a harsh voice cut into my thoughts, and I flinched, turning around. My eyes widened in shock as Mr. King was in front of me in his wheelchair. He was dressed in his black nightwear, his black hair sitting on his head messily. His grey eyes glared at me, looking at me from head to toe. 

“Are you deaf? What are you doing?” He snapped, and I flinched, trying to calm my nerves.

“I wanted to cook myself dinner,” I mumbled. He frowned, hating my response to his question.

“Dinner? By 10 pm? Is that what your parents taught you? To eat so late at night?” He asked, and I gulped, keeping quiet. He moved closer to me, looking at what I was cooking.

“Pasta and wings? What are you? A buffalo?” He asked, looking at me, and I was so speechless. What is wrong with eating pasta and wings at night? 

“You answer me when I talk to you!” he yelled, taking the pot from the fire and throwing it on the floor. I gasped in shock, looking at my food on the floor, and I could feel the tears building up. I was so hungry; I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was finally cooking something, and now he has ruined it.

“Who eats pasta and wings so late in the night?” He asked, looking shocked by what was in front of him, but I only kept my head down, sniffing. 

“What is your name?” he asked, and I looked at him. He just poured my food, and he is asking me what my name is? Worse, he got married to me and has no idea what my name is? Unbelievable.

“Aurora,” I mumbled.

“Well, Aurora, there are certain rules you must follow in this house; no one eats dinner past 7 pm,” he said, and I looked at him. Why can’t I eat dinner past 7? I have one of those bodies that takes food any day and anytime, and nothing would happen to me. I can eat something so heavy by 12 am, and I would still have the best sleep.

“Do you understand me?” He snapped, and I nodded my head. He huffed at me, going to the fridge and taking a bottle of water and an apple. Then he clapped his hand, and the lights went off. 

“Clean that up,” his voice said in the darkness, and when I was sure he had left, I sank to the floor, crying my eyes out once again. How do I clean this up without lights? He just ruined my dinner and night; what more is he going to ruin? I curse you, Dexter King!