Todos los capítulos de THE GLASS WIFE; the storm he built himself : Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

ELIOT’S POVSerena is seeing someone else?Sh-she leaves the house… to go see some man? To meet up with a- a man?? That’s what she has been doing all this time? All this time that I’ve been-“No,” I whispered, pausing the thought right then. “No. That’s impossible. Not possible at all. How can- Serena is not that kind of person.”My eyes went to my laptop screen again. The comments… and I almost cussed at myself right then and there. A scoff leaving my lips, “How am I letting these crazy people mess with me? Putting ideas in my head and just- This is exactly why I don’t like this blog! Why I dislike this blogger. Whoever she is!” I snapped, the blog post getting to me more than I would like to admit.“All she does is post crazy stuff like this. Triggering people and forcing unnecessary narratives down everyone’s throat! A woman’s silence is dangerous? It’s her freedom that scares them? Who the hell says stuffs like this? Scare who?! Serena can do whatever she likes for all I care! She

SERENA'S POVThe thought alone was strong enough to get me moving. The very image of what he would look like at the end firing me up all completely. But still, I didn’t move. Just stood there. Shaking, teeth grinding as rage clawed at my throat. ‘Do as you’re told, Serena’ the words repeated. Reminding me of all the times that people have said those very words to me! All the times that I’ve swallowed every complain, every limit, living up to their every expectation. Forgetting that I had a life to live! That I had a right to choice not to!He reminded me again. Eliot. He reminded me yet again, refueling my determination that I have been carrying these past few days. And with that determination surging through my veins, combining with the anger and rage I had on. “Fuck you.” I spat venomously. My hatred for those very words, my situation and messed up life, consuming me to the bones.“Fuck you, Mr. Beckett. Fuck you.” His features twisted, eyes dimming as he processed my words. “Did

ELIOT’S POV“Then why haven’t you signed?” I questioned, closing the distance between us so I could look into those blue orbs. So the message would sink in once and for all!“Why haven’t you signed those damned papers already, Serena?! It’s because of this, isn’t it? This is what you want. To be my wife. Bear my name, walk beside me, go shopping with my money, purchase all those stupid clothes and shit! Buy a penthouse! Don’t think I didn’t see those debit alerts. You enjoy being my wife, Serena. You enjoy having people and all these staff give you privileges as my wife! You want to be called Mrs. Beckett, don’t you?”Her lips parted just then. A defeated yet broken look engulfing those blue orbs a she staggered backwards for a bit. I had her. I just knew it. And so, I pressed forward! Wanting to seal the deal and call it a night.A very satisfactory night.“Since this is what you want Mrs. Beckett,” I said lowly, “Do as you’re told. Do what you’re supposed to and stop acting up like a

SERENA’S POVI didn’t plan to write tonight.But something about being told to smile for strangers when you barely speak to your husband just… pulls the words right out of you.There’s an event coming.He wants me there — polished, dressed, standing beside him like a trophy that still belongs to him.I asked him why.He said, “Because people will ask questions.”Questions?Where were these questions when I cried myself to sleep for months?When I stopped talking, stopped smiling, stopped existing in this marriage. When his mistress moved into my home. Where were these questions?But now I need to show up. Smile. Look the part.Because he needs to look good.Let me ask one:Do I look like your damn accessory?A woman you ignore Monday through Friday,then polish up for a Saturday night performance?You don’t get to disappear on me for weeks,then drag me into the spotlight like your little puppet wife.I’m not a mannequin.I’m not a mask.I’m your wife.Or maybe I was.People think I li

ELIOT’S POV12:59AM12:59AMThe time was 12- 1:00AM now!1:00AM!I could literally hear the clock ticking in my brains at this point. That was how long I had sat down there, silent as a cat while my mind buzzed endlessly like some funny train on steroids.Fingers clicking every few seconds, heart throbbing with some what of excitement. Of life. And my breath, thick with the scent of my favorite- scotch. Neat. My study was dark as night. The glow from the laptop screen, the only source of lighting in the room. Casting off a shadow on both me and the half-glassed scotch on my desk. - the only thing keeping me sane. At ease and just…clear headed enough to wait.Wait for the dumbass brains that decided to respond to any one of my comments. “@CynicalAndSassy: Okay but why are you so pressed? Did she strike a nerve?” one of the dumbass brains commented. Obviously against the clear points I had stated. Still wanting to be dumb and get used by this damned blogger that started all of these!Th