Chapter 2

I didn't know where Gavin had spent the night. But even without asking, deep down, I already knew the answer. He was probably tangled in that woman's sheets, holding her the way he was supposed to hold me. There was nothing I could do except cry myself to sleep in our room, alone with the painful thoughts that refused to leave my mind.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt as though a heavy weight had settled deep inside my chest. My entire body felt exhausted, but I forced myself to get out of bed because there were still things I needed to do—and I didn't want Gavin getting angry at me again. I decided to clean the kitchen since we didn't have anyone else to do it for us.

Gavin never hired a housekeeper because he wanted me to be the one taking care of everything around the house.

I was busy scrubbing the kitchen floor when I suddenly heard voices and footsteps coming from the entrance. I barely had enough time to react, let alone stand up, before my mother-in-law, Beatriz Romano, walked into the house with Gianna, Gavin's younger sister, right behind her.

They looked like a queen and a princess, dressed in sophisticated clothes that perfectly matched their heels and elegant pearls. As usual, Beatriz didn't bother to greet me. She looked me up and down, her lips curling into a sneer that made me feel even smaller than I already did. Ever since I became a part of their family, the three of them had never treated me kindly.

Even now, I still found myself wondering what I had ever done to deserve being treated this way. I had always been kind and respectful toward them, and not once had I done anything to wrong them. It was as if being born poor was some kind of disease—something so disgusting that merely being around me made them sick.

"Look what we have here. The trash is on her knees. At least you finally found a place that suits your kind, Alia," she said, her voice dripping with mockery.

She smiled at me smugly, clearly enjoying the way her words had cut through me. I wished I could do something—anything—to wipe that arrogant look off her face. But just like always... I couldn't do anything. I could only stay where I was and swallow every bit of humiliation they threw at me.

"Seriously, Alia, what happened to your hair? Don't you even know how to fix yourself up? Couldn't you at least run a comb through it? You look so miserable, and we're practically the same age," Gianna said with a laugh as she leaned against the counter I had spent hours cleaning.

She flicked a strand of my already messy hair with her perfectly manicured fingers, her freshly polished nails gleaming under the kitchen lights.

"You smell like a cheap spice market, too. Is this what my brother has to come home to? No wonder he's always in someone else's bed. You're simply not pleasant to look at."

My chest suddenly tightened at her words, bringing back everything I had thought about earlier that morning. She was right. As painful as it was to admit, I couldn't even argue with her.

"I'm sorry. I haven't had the chance to take a shower yet... I was still cleaning up the mess from last night here in the kitchen," I said, my voice trembling.

"Last night?" Beatriz stepped over the wet rag, the sharp clicking of her heels against the floor sounding like the ticking of a clock and making my heart pound all over again.

"Ah, Gavin called me this morning and told me you had some kind of psychotic breakdown. He said you attacked his guest and destroyed his home because you were jealous. You really have some nerve throwing a tantrum when, honestly, you're not even worthy of being compared to any of the women my son has dated before. You were just an ambitious peasant who needed a roof over her head and money to survive. You're nothing more than that."

She jabbed a finger against my forehead as if I were nothing but a stupid little doll who couldn't fight back, someone she could humiliate and push around however she pleased.

I looked up at her after hearing that, tears already gathering in my eyes.

"No... that was his whore, Ma..." I said brokenly, the words barely leaving my trembling lips.

"Don't call me that!" she yelled before slapping me across the face, making the entire room suddenly feel ice-cold.

I immediately reached for the side of my face where her palm had landed, unable to react right away because of the shock. The slap had been so hard that my ears rang, and for a moment, everything around me felt distant. Gianna laughed, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding right in front of her.

"You are nothing more than a legal obligation my son has to endure because your father doesn't have enough money to pay us. But if you think your marriage gives you the right to embarrass this family, then you are sadly mistaken!"

Gianna walked toward the refrigerator, took out a glass of juice, and deliberately let it slip from her hand. The liquid splattered all over my legs and across the floor I had just finished cleaning.

"Oops," she said with a smug grin, laughing without the slightest hint of regret in her eyes.

"Clean that up, Alia. And while you're at it, I think my car needs cleaning, too. Our driver is busy, and you obviously have nothing better to do than sit around in this house. So you'd better clean it as well, so at least you can make yourself useful for once."

"I am his wife," I whispered, even though saying those words made me feel like I was lying to myself.

I shouldn't have to suffer like this. If my father hadn't been so greedy, I wouldn't have been forced to endure this kind of hell.

"You're a placeholder," Beatriz corrected me. She bent down until we were at eye level, making sure I could see the cold, empty look in her eyes.

The juice burned against my skin and stained my clothes as I tightly gripped the cleaning brush in my hand. I didn't shed a single tear. I couldn't. I simply lowered my head and started scrubbing again, their laughter echoing through the empty halls of what had slowly become my prison.

"She really looks pathetic. She probably smells, too. Ew!" I heard Gianna's high-pitched voice from the living room, where I knew they were sitting comfortably.

"I honestly don't know why your father forced your brother to marry that peasant. If he had ended up with Olivia instead—someone successful with her own fashion brand—your career could have gone much further by now," I heard Beatriz say, as though they weren't even trying to keep their voices down.

"Oh, Mom. I can't wait for Olivia to come back. That bitch will definitely learn her place."

"So you need to do everything you can to get close to Olivia. Do whatever it takes to become her best friend. We need her help with your career. Your brother doesn't have enough connections to bribe the judges and guarantee you a win yet."

I could only shake my head as I listened to everything they were saying.

Was this what rich people were really like?

Never satisfied with everything they already had.

I simply finished cleaning the kitchen before moving on to Gianna's car. I let them talk, gossip, and mock other people because, honestly, that seemed to be their favorite hobby.

Thankfully, I managed to finish cleaning in peace, so I finally went back inside the house. I didn't see the two devils anywhere, and I had no idea where they had gone. I took advantage of their absence to put away all the cleaning supplies I had used.

I was about to head upstairs so I could finally clean myself up when the front door suddenly slammed open.

Gavin walked in, and I immediately froze. He looked painfully perfect in nothing but a shirt and cargo pants, his messy hair only adding to his effortless appearance. But his face was colder than ice, and something about the way he carried himself made the air around me feel tense.

I was about to greet him when, out of nowhere, Beatriz and Gianna suddenly appeared behind me. Beatriz changed immediately. The mocking, arrogant woman who had been humiliating me earlier disappeared, replaced by the image of a tired and worried mother. She quickly approached Gavin, looking as though she had been carrying some terrible burden.

What kind of drama was this now?

"Gavin, darling, you're finally home!" she said with a relieved sigh, gently touching his arm.

"Mom, why are you here? Have you been here for a while?" Gavin asked with a frown. His eyes briefly shifted toward me, and there was something sharp and dangerous in his gaze.

"We came to check on Alia after what you told us about last night. We wanted to help her clean the house, but she's been hissing at me."

My lips parted in disbelief, and honestly, I almost laughed.

Here we go again... This situation was painfully familiar.

"Ma'am, I didn't—"

"Please, Alia." Beatriz interrupted me, her eyes suddenly filling with fake tears as she turned to Gavin.

"We only asked if she needed to see a therapist, and she... she started screaming at us. She told us we were outsiders in her home and that we had no right to interfere because you're her husband and I'm nothing more than your mother. She was so disrespectful, Gavin. I've never been spoken to that way."

Unbelievable.

They were truly talented at pretending and acting as though they were the victims!

"She almost threw a plate at Mom! I was terrified earlier. She's completely out of control, Gavin! You should teach her a lesson."

Gianna quickly joined in, her voice breaking into a theatrical sob. Honestly, she was better suited to audition for a reality show than compete in Miss Universe.

The air in the room seemed to disappear.

Gavin's gaze snapped toward me, and for a second, all I could see was red. Not passion... but pure, unfiltered hatred. He didn't even bother asking for my side of the story. He didn't have to. In his eyes, I was already the monster. He had never truly believed me or cared enough to understand what I felt or what had been done to me... because Gavin himself had always been just as cruel.

He moved so quickly that I didn't even have time to flinch. He grabbed me from where I stood, his hand wrapping tightly around my upper arm as he dragged me forward. His fingers dug painfully into my skin with enough force that I already knew bruises would be waiting for me later.

"G-Gavin!" I tried to pull his hand away and stop him from dragging me, but he refused to let go.

"Gavin, you're hurting me!" I gasped, nearly stumbling as he pulled me along without slowing down.

"Hurting you?" he hissed, his face only inches away from mine. His breath smelled of expensive coffee and cold, unforgiving rage.

"You attacked my guest, humiliated my mother and sister in my own fucking house, and you still have the audacity to play the victim? You've got some nerve! You're nothing but a worthless peasant I've been feeding and supporting!"

Every word he threw at me felt like another knife sinking deeper into my chest.

"I-I didn't ask for this..." My voice cracked as I forced the words out.

"Didn't ask for this? You've been obsessing over me, Alia. Just because you're spending my money doesn't mean you suddenly have the right to act superior in my own house!"

He tightened his grip around my arm until his knuckles turned white. The tears I had desperately tried to hold back finally spilled from my eyes, one after another, while my chest ached from everything he was saying to me.

I was tired of this—physically and mentally exhausted. But why couldn't my heart just completely give up on him? Why was there still a part of me holding on?

I just... couldn't.

"Why do you always have to make me feel so small?" I cried. "You stopped me from studying because you wanted me to take care of everything in this house. You won't even let me leave. Gavin, if you had just agreed to let me continue my studies, I would have chosen that life. Maybe then you wouldn't look down on me like this."

"Study? For what? So you can flirt with other men and waste my money? No. You don't have the right to study. Nothing would change anyway—you wouldn't magically become smarter because of it. My father bought you to be a quiet, obedient wife. Instead, you're nothing but a loud, pathetic brat who doesn't know her place!"

He shoved me against the hallway wall and gripped my arm so tightly that I knew it would be covered in bruises later. A muffled cry escaped my lips as pain shot through my body.

"Say you're sorry!" he yelled, his eyes dark with a promise of even more pain.

"Go back in there, get on your knees, and beg my mother for forgiveness—or you'll be sleeping outside tonight. Do you understand me?!"

I stared into the eyes of the man I had loved since I was sixteen years old, and for the first time, the small flame of hope inside me didn't simply flicker.

It died.

"I didn't do anything, Gavin. Please... just believe me." My voice came out as a weak plea, and another tear slipped down my cheek.

His grip only became tighter until I screamed.

"I don't care what you did. I care that you're here! Now move and do what I say!"

I could feel my bones protesting beneath the force of his grip as he held my arm mercilessly. The pain was unbearable, but the pure hatred in Gavin's eyes was what finally made me stop fighting.

"Move! Now!" he snapped, and my entire body trembled.

He didn't just lead me downstairs. He shoved me toward the stairs and forced me to walk ahead of him. I stumbled on the last step, falling forward until I landed directly in front of Beatriz.

She was holding a lace handkerchief, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes, but I knew there were no tears behind that performance.

"Do it!" Gavin yelled again, his hand wrapped around my arm like a shackle as he forced me down.

My knees hit the cold, hard tile floor.

I knew they would hurt later, but the humiliation hurt far worse. It tasted bitter, almost metallic, at the back of my throat. Behind Beatriz's fake smile, I could see her eyes shining with a sick kind of happiness.

They were enjoying this.

They were enjoying every second of the humiliation they had created for me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered in a weak, broken voice, even though resentment burned painfully inside my chest.

I wanted to curse at them.

I wanted to do something worse than that.

But I couldn't understand why I couldn't find the strength inside myself to fight back.

"Louder!" Gavin yelled, digging his fingers deeper into my already bruised skin.

"And mean it. My mother doesn't deserve to hear trash coming out of your mouth."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, Ma. Gianna, please forgive me for being rude earlier."

When did I learn to take responsibility for mistakes I never made?

When did I become the kind of person who begged and endured every humiliation thrown at me by people who had contributed absolutely nothing to my life...

Except treating me worse than an animal?

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the sound of Gianna's quiet, mocking laughter.

"There," Beatriz finally said, her voice dripping with artificial grace.

"See, Gavin? She just needs a firm hand. It's the only language people like her understand. You need to learn how to discipline your wife properly. It's embarrassing when she behaves like that in front of people we know. We'll leave you to... handle her. I simply can't stay in this atmosphere a moment longer."

I remained on the floor with my head lowered until I heard their footsteps slowly disappear. I waited for Gavin to finally release my arm, hoping for even a moment of peace.

But Gavin wasn't finished.

He roughly pulled me to my feet and spun me around until I was facing him.

"Don't think this is over, Alia," he growled, his face only a few inches from mine.

"Fix yourself. It's embarrassing for anyone to see you looking like a rag. Don't leave this house, and don't let me see your pathetic face for the rest of the night."

He shoved me aside so he could walk past, and the way he looked at me made me feel naked and ashamed. Then he turned his back on me and walked away, leaving me completely alone.

The ghost of his hand still burned against my skin.

I looked down at my arm. The red marks were already beginning to turn purple, and the shape of his fingers seemed burned into my skin. I couldn't stop myself from crying as I gently touched my aching arm, my skin flushed and sore beneath my trembling fingers.

Why does it have to be so hard to love you, Gavin?

What did I ever do to deserve this kind of hell?

When would I finally have the life I wanted?

The peace I had always dreamed of?

Would I only find it when I was... dead?