Chapter 3: The Price of a Lie

[ SAMANTHA'S POV ]

The guard’s mouth opened, but no sound came out at first. He looked at David, whose chest was rising and falling like a trapped animal, and then his eyes flicked back to me. The silence in the room stretched so tight it felt like a thin piece of glass about to shatter.

"Sir..." the guard finally whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he took a small step backward. "She... she isn't a maid."

David didn't move. His hand stayed pointed at my face, his fingers rigid. "What did you just say?"

"That is your wife, Mr. David," the second guard blurted out, his face turning a pale, sickly shade of gray. "The wedding papers from yesterday afternoon. Your father-in-law's men brought her to the estate last night while you were... while you at bar drinking his is Samantha."

The name bounced off the high walls, cold and heavy.

Samantha.

Hearing my own name felt wrong. It didn't belong in this beautiful, terrifying room. It belonged in the dirt outside, or back in the locked guest room where my father had kept me like an animal.

David’s hand slowly dropped to his side. The anger on his face didn't fade; it froze into something much worse. His brow furrowed, his eyes turning into tiny, sharp slits as he stared at me. He was looking at my face, really looking at it now, tracking the caked makeup, the purple bruise on my jaw, and the way I was clutching the silk blanket against my chin until my knuckles turned white.

A terrible, dark realization was washing over him, and I could see it happen in real-time. He hadn't just forgotten the wedding because of the alcohol. He had been completely blinded by a lie.

"Get out," David said. His voice wasn't a roar anymore. It was a flat, dead whisper.

The two guards didn't wait for him to say it twice. They practically tripped over their own feet as they backed out of the bedroom, pulling the heavy double doors shut behind them with a soft, final click.

Once the doors closed, the air left my lungs completely. I stayed pinned to the mattress, my legs trembling so badly under the duvet that the fabric shook. The inner turmoil was ripping me apart from the inside out. My mind was screaming at me to run, to jump back out the window, to find a way out of this nightmare. But my body was totally paralyzed. I was staring at a man who looked like he wanted to break me into pieces.

David slowly turned his body around to face me fully. The half-unbuttoned white shirt hung loosely from his broad shoulders, making him look huge, like a predator cornering its prey. He walked back to the edge of the bed, his bare feet making no sound against the wood.

"Where is Linda?" he asked.

The question was quiet, but it cut deep into my chest. The pain was sharp and sudden. Even now, looking at me, all he wanted was her. The golden child. The sister who had smirked while I was dragged away in handcuffs made of silk and family duty.

"She... she isn't coming," I managed to say, my voice nothing more than a tiny, broken squeak. I tried to pull the blanket higher, hiding my face, but David lunged forward.

With one swift, brutal movement, he yanked the heavy silk duvet straight out of my hands and threw it onto the floor.

I gasped, instantly curling my arms around my chest to protect myself. Without the blanket, I felt completely naked, completely bare. The crumpled white wedding dress was fully exposed, the dirt stains on the skirt showing clearly in the bright morning sun. I shivered violently, the cold air hitting my bare skin.

David leaned down, pinning his hands flat on the mattress on either side of my hips, trapping me beneath him. His face was only inches from mine. I could smell the bitter scent of stale liquor on his breath, mixed with the clean scent of his expensive cologne. His dark eyes searched my face, burning with a mixture of confusion and pure hatred.

"You're her sister," he whispered, his jaw clenching so hard the bone looked sharp. "The older one. The one they keep hidden away."

"I didn't want this," I sobbed, the tears finally breaking through, hot and fast, washing paths through the thick makeup on my cheeks. "Please... you have to believe me. My father... They locked me up. I tried to run away. I didn't choose this!"

David let out a short, mocking laugh that sounded like a bark. He didn't look at my tears with pity. He looked at them like they were fake.

"You think I'm an idiot, Samantha?" he sneered, his eyes dropping to the dark purple bruise on my jaw for a split second before snapping back to my eyes. "Your family was going bankrupt. Your father's company was dead in the water. And suddenly, I wake up with a signed marriage certificate and a different girl in my bed, while the bailout funds are already sitting in your family's bank account."

He reached out, his thick fingers grabbing my chin tightly. His grip didn't hurt my bones, but it pressed right against the fresh bruise my father had left. A sharp flash of pain shot through my face, and I winced, a quiet groan escaping my lips.

David saw me flinch. He looked at his own fingers against the dark mark on my skin, his eyes flickering with a strange, dark emotion. For a second, his grip loosened, but then his features hardened again, turning back to stone.

"You and your sister planned this," he growled, his voice vibrating with pure venom. "She skipped out on the deal, and you took her place so your family could get my money. You wanted the mansion. You wanted the name."

"No!" I screamed, the injustice of it burning in my throat. "Linda didn't want you! She was glad to give me to you! They used me!"

"Shut up!" David roared, releasing my chin so hard my head snapped back against the pillows. He stood up to his full height, looking down at me with utter disgust. "Don't speak her name with your lying mouth."

He stepped away from the bed, running a hand through his dark hair, his breathing heavy. The silence returned, thick and suffocating. I lay back against the pillows, my chest heaving, my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces. I was trapped between two worlds: a family that had sold me like property, and a husband who thought I was the monster who had engineered the whole thing. There was no way out. No one was coming to save me.

David walked over to the large wardrobe, throwing the doors open. He grabbed a dark silk robe and threw it over his shoulders, tying the belt with a sharp, angry jerk. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were completely dead. The anger was gone, replaced by a cold, unyielding wall of ice.

"Listen to me very carefully," David said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that made my blood run cold. "You wanted to be Mrs. David? Fine. You have the title. But that is all you will ever have."

He walked over to the bedroom door, gripping the brass handle tightly. He paused, looking back at me over his shoulder one last time.

"You will stay in this room," he commanded. "You will not touch anything that belongs to me. You will not speak to the staff. To this house, and to me, you do not exist. You are a ghost, Samantha. And I will make sure you live like one."

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty space like a gunshot. A second later, the sharp, distinctive click of the deadbolt sliding into place rang through the room.

Locked in. Again.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my face in the crumpled white fabric of the wedding dress, and let the darkness of the room swallow me whole.