To His Knees

Vivi heard every sound from the other room, every detail cutting into her like glass.

“How do I know… ah… you won’t leave me… ugh… for another woman… hng… once you become famous?” Celeste’s moans were loud, clear, and painfully unaffected by the thin walls.

“Ugh, baby, I’d never leave you,” Wes grunted, his voice rough and low.

“Oh god… but what if I’m not pretty enough?” Celeste whined, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “Haah…What if he doesn’t want me?”

Vivi sat frozen on the sofa just outside Wes’s bedroom, hands pressed so hard against her ears that her knuckles ached. But it didn’t matter—she could still hear everything. She always could.

And soon enough, he would call for her.

This routine had become one of the most humiliating parts of their twisted arrangement. The cold, impersonal acts on his office desk were almost merciful by comparison. Those encounters at least felt transactional—clinical. But this? This was something darker. Something worse.

“You’re perfect,” Wes growled. “No one could resist you.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Celeste purred. “You wouldn’t get jealous?”

“Of course not, baby.” His voice was low and confident. “I know you’ll be thinking of me.”

From what Vivi had pieced together, Wes had asked Celeste to seduce someone—a strategic play, not for love or lust, but for leverage. Business, or maybe something even more personal. And Celeste, predictably, had agreed after Wes laid on the charm thick enough to drown her in it.

It wasn’t surprising.

Vivi suspected this wasn’t the first time, especially given the kinds of parties they attended—exclusively sordid, carefully curated to ensure a transactional exchange of pleasure and power. Trading partners for the night wasn’t just accepted; it was expected.

Wes had always claimed to practice safe sex, not that Vivi had ever asked. But thanks to those parties, she had decided to get herself tested regularly.

Vivi pitied their target. But she couldn’t afford to care too much about someone else’s misery, not when her own was already suffocating her.

At least Wes kept all of this contained to the main house. His parties, his guests, his girlfriend. They never touched the small guest house where Vivi lived. That was her one small comfort, her sanctuary.

“Ahhh! Tell me again,” Celeste moaned. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Vivi’s stomach twisted painfully.

She had never known pleasure during intercourse, Wes had made sure of it. That part of their marriage had always been clinical and cold. He had saved that side of himself for his secretaries. And honestly, Vivi had accepted that long ago. Sex had been ruined for her, anyway.

Once this marriage was over, whether through pregnancy or Wes finally achieving fame and financial freedom, she hoped to leave sex behind entirely. Let it rot in the past where it belonged.

“Fuck… fuck… I want you to use this perfect body,” Wes groaned, the echoing slap of skin on skin growing faster. “Get him to fuck you. Get it all on camera, baby.”

Vivi’s hands curled into fists.

She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“Yes! Yes! I’ll do it! I’d do anything for you, baby!” Celeste cried, her voice breaking into a strained whimper.

“That’s fucking right,” Wes growled.

Then his voice sharpened.

“Vivienne? Where the fuck are you?”

Vivi closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to breathe through the nausea rising in her throat. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, but that was no longer an option.

With a steadying breath, she forced herself to step into the room.

She kept her eyes down, focusing on the gleaming floor beneath her feet as she crossed Wes’s oversized bedroom. The room reeked of sweat and sex, the stale, musty odor making her stomach turn. But none of it was new.

“Just lie down. Legs open,” Wes ordered, his voice tight and breathless.

Vivi’s chest tightened, but her face remained impassive as she silently lowered herself onto the empty side of the bed. The mattress rocked beneath her, still shifting from Wes’s movements. She closed her eyes and forced herself to pretend.

I’m at the gynaecologist’s office.

That’s what she always told herself. Just a clinical procedure. Her skirt was a privacy sheet. The lubricant already applied—a medical aid to ease discomfort. 

A strangled groan escaped Wes’s throat as he withdrew from Celeste, his body shifting toward Vivi. She felt the mattress dip as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could picture it all too clearly. The satisfied blonde beside them, propped up on her elbow, watching with bright, expectant eyes as if this was some performance she was entitled to witness.

Wes thrust into her in one movement.

A few erratic jolts later, warmth spread inside her. Semen. Clinical and detached, like everything else in their arrangement.

Wes leaned over her, pressing his mouth to Celeste’s. Celeste responded with a loud, exaggerated kiss.

“Don’t waste a drop, baby,” Celeste whispered, her voice sultry and sweet. Her hand pressed against Wes’s ass, pushing him deeper into Vivi.

Vivi’s stomach roiled. Her throat tightened, bile burning the back of her mouth.

Her face remained blank. Cold. Detached.

Wes had reminded her countless times that if she hadn't willingly agreed to this marriage, his father would have given him the CEO position without any conditions. He made sure to mention that every time she questioned why he couldn’t just do this the clinical way, why he couldn’t simply donate to a fertility clinic and leave her out of it.

But no. This was her punishment.

Then Celeste’s syrupy voice curled through the room.

“Two weeks,” she purred, her tone too sweet for the filth coming out of her mouth. “Two weeks ‘till I bring Knox Maddox to his knees.”

Vivi’s entire body went cold.

What?

“That’s right, baby,” Wes grunted as he rolled onto his back. “And we’ll show the world the evidence if he dares to ignore me again.”

Vivi’s mind blanked.

Knox Maddox.

He shouldn’t be able to get close to Knox Maddox. He had been trying for months and failing at every turn. How could he—how could they—

Her body moved on autopilot. She slid out of bed, her legs trembling as she made her way toward the door.

She needed to leave. She needed to get away, to escape to the guest house, to stand beneath scalding water until the stink of this night was burned from her skin.

“Vivienne!”

Wes’s sharp voice cut through her trance. She stopped, her back to him, her hand already on the door handle.

“Are you listening?” His tone was laced with irritation.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t look.

“I said…you need to come to an event with us,” Wes said.

Her heart hammered.

Oh god… not where you’re going to— Not with him—

“Tomorrow night,” Wes repeated, his voice final and bored. 

Of course. He never gave more than a day’s notice. Never offered details beyond what he deemed necessary. 

Vivi forced her expression into neutrality even as relief curled in her chest. Tomorrow.

She gave a short nod, opened the door and left.