Tangled With A Vampire

Laughter filled the grand hall, clear and bright. It bounced off the chandeliers, surrounding the guests. But to me, it wasn’t lighthearted. It was painful. The sound twisted in my guts, reopening old wounds.

I stood by the window, fingers tightening around the edge of my glass, watching small figures darting through the courtyard, their feet slapping against the cobblestone, their giggles bursting like firecrackers into the night air during festival periods.

An orphanage.

Fitting, isn’t it?

I’ve always loved children and wished to have lots of kids when I become a woman but it would seem life has a way of laughing at one's face.

And now?

Now, I stand here.

In a charity event with my husband.

But not one of them is mine.

Because life is cruel like that.

Because fate has a twisted sense of humor.

I forced my gaze away, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. But before I could take a step…. I heard these heart wrenching whispers.

“Five years of marriage and still no child. Poor thing.”

“If I were Leonard, I’d be thinking about an heir by now.”

“Or a second wife.”

“She should just adopt one of these orphans. At least that way, she’d serve some purpose.”

My breath hitched. My pulse slammed against my ribs, like a violent, caged thing that needed to be released. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. But damn, I felt it. God, I felt

“Crazy, isn’t it? She’s got a thing between her legs, yet the only thing it’s good for is pleasing her husband, not bearing his children.”

My fingers curled around the glass, gripping it so tightly my knuckles turned white. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

Why, Lord? Why me?

I turned. I needed to leave. Now. Before this humiliation swallowed me whole. Before I dropped down on the floor and broke into tears. I needed to flee.

And then…

“Oh, darling, leaving so soon?”

A shiver crept up my spine. That voice. That menacing voice.

Rebecca.

She stepped into my path like she owned the floor beneath her feet, her dress hugging her curves, her lips curling into a slow, satisfied smirk as she sized me with her eyes like I was some piece of trash.

“Poor Olivia,” she sighed as she shook her head in mockery. I could feel it coming. The words that would slice me apart.

She tilted her head, letting out a mock sigh.

“Don’t look so sad, dear. I’m sure you’re useful for something.”

The air around me felt choking. You’d almost think I was gasping for air at this point. Every muscle in my body locked. Rebecca took another step, so close that I could smell her expensive cologne.

“After all,” she murmured, “you can still warm your husband’s bed, can’t you? That’s all that really matters. You’re just a barren tramp!.”

Red.

That’s all I saw and honestly I felt I wanted to put a gun to her dirty little brain and blow it up. Trust me people if I could I would have a long time ago.

At some point I swear I could hear my own breathing.

It was ragged, uneven, trembling with anger. I couldn’t just stand here and watch this old hag talk to me like that. Never!. My nails dug into my palms, sharp enough to break skin.

But my lips moved first. I had the greatest comeback ever. “At least I might be barren,” I said, my voice a whisper, not just any whisper-It was a deadly whisper, quiet enough to make the room lean in, loud enough to destroy her.

“But at least I wasn’t messing around with my stepson in the restroom some hours ago.”

The room. Froze. Silence crashed over the crowd, heavy, delicious and trust me when I say you can almost hear a pin drop.

Her nostrils flared. A sharp breath in.You could almost see panic in her eyes as she gazed around the crowd. But she masked it quickly, clicking her tongue, shaking her head. And then… before I even knew what was happening.

CRACK.

My vision went white as I stumbled back due to the impact of this slap.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

No one moved.

No one stopped it.

And Rebecca?

She stood there, chin lifted, eyes gleaming, lips curled in a slow, knowing smirk.

Like she had won.

The sting burned, a searing imprint of humiliation across my skin, My ears rang. My breath came short, fast and then, a voice tore through the silence like thunder splitting the sky.

“How dare you slap my wife!”

The room shook. Every cell in my body went still.

My pulse stuttered.

Because that voice…

Leonard. My husband.

He was beside me before I could blink, his body radiating heat, power, fury. The kind of fury that could destroy nations. His fingers brushed my cheek, featherlight against the burning flesh, his touch tender, possessive, dangerous.

His gaze flicked back to Rebecca, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.

“You hit my wife!”

“Apologize!

The room held its breath.

Rebecca swallowed, her eyes darting around, looking for an escape. Leonard didn’t give her one.

“Now.”

Her throat bobbed. She knew.

She knew there was no way out.

Slowly, with shaking hands, she dropped to her knees.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words foreign almost like a bitter, acidic burning in her throat.

She looked small. Insignificant I must say.

Leonard turned to the room as he slammed his fist on the table.

“No one disrespects my wife.” His gaze swept over them. Daring them. Challenging them.

“I chose her for who she is. Not for her ability to bear me children. So unless you have something valuable to say…” His voice dropped, rough and merciless.

“Shut. The.Hell. Up.”

Silence.

Not a single whisper.

Not a single breath.

My heart ached. Why?

Because Leonard had given me everything.

Everything.

Except the one thing I wanted most.