Chris' POV
My gaze hardened as I stared into her frightened eyes "You belong to me....you are under my rules...my principles," I spoke in hushed tones "And I won't let you forget it...so when you ask something and I say no...you have no choice but to obey" I snarled, my voice low and threatening.
I watched as tears began to spill from her eyes, her body shaking uncontrollably as she tried to find the words to respond. I was blinded by my anger that her tears didn't even mean anything to me.
"I'm not your possession," she struggled to say, "I'm your wife, I know this is supposed to be a contract marriage but that doesn't mean you're not supposed to love and respect me....Im a human being too,"
Did she just say love and respect? A cruel, mocking laugh erupted from deep within me, the sound echoing through the room like the cackle of a demon. I watched with cold, unfeeling eyes as my wife cowered against the wall, her body trembling with fear.
"Love and respect? Love and respect?!" I repeated, my voice dripping with disdain "Do you know how many women would kill for what you have? For a roof over your head, for a husband who provides for you, for a life of comfort and luxury?"
My wife stared at me, her eyes pleading for mercy, for understanding. I was too blind to see any of it.
"And yet you still want more," I growled "You still want to complain, to rebel, to run away."
"Then why did you pick me Chris!" She cried out.
"Why did you pick me? I didn't ask for any of this..."
"Yes you did," I fought hard not to give in, her tears cut through my rage like a hot knife, searing my soul with a pain that threatened to overwhelm me. For a moment, the armour of my anger began to crack, the vulnerability inside me threatening to spill out.
But I steeled myself, hardening my heart against the onslaught of emotions. I could not afford to be weak, to let the pity I had for her cloud my judgment.
"No I didn't," I cried out.
"You needed someone to pay for your mother's treatment and I was the only one who could help you," my voice trembling with the effort it took to maintain my composure.
"Okay fine...I needed help...you needed a wife...we helped each other...so then why do I feel like I'm trapped in all of this...this is supposed to be a contract marriage but I'm treated like a prisoner...I can't even go out...I can't see my mother, I can't see anyone...but then you keep telling me to make this work.....I'm trying Chris, I'm trying to make all of this work but you're making it really hard for me," she sobbed.
My breath hot against her skin, I moved my face close to hers, my lips just grazing the delicate shell of her ear. "You're playing a dangerous game," I whispered, the words as sharp as a knife's edge "If you keep pushing me, I might just snap. And you wouldn't want to see what happens when I snap." I could feel her breath hitch, her body going rigid as she fought to contain her fear. But I would not be deterred.
I ran my tongue along the curve of her ear, savoring the taste of her skin, the power I held over her.
My hands, rough and calloused, traced the contours of her face, each movement a reminder of my dominance over her. I felt the wetness of her tears against my skin, the warmth of her breath against my palm.
"Do you understand?" I murmured, my voice low and dangerous as she nodded with her eyes fixed on mine. Her lips trembled, her body quivering beneath my touch.
With a sudden, violent movement, I tore my hands away from her face, the air between us charged with electricity. She stood there, her body shaking, her eyes pleading with me to show mercy. But all I felt was a cold, unfeeling satisfaction.
"Good," I said "Because I won't tolerate any more of this behaviour. You will do as I say, when I say it. Do you hear me?"
She nodded again, her head moving up and down in a repeatedly.
"Good," I backed away, my voice harsh and unrelenting. "Now get lost"
She hesitated for a moment, as if she couldn't believe what I was asking of her. But then, without a word, she turned and fled the room, her footsteps fading away into the distance.
With a guttural roar that seemed to come from the depths of my soul, I hurled my fist into the wall with all the force I could muster. The impact shook the room, plaster and drywall crumbling beneath the force of my blow. I stood there, my fist buried in the wall, my breathing heavy and laboured. The pain in my hand was a distant, insignificant thing compared to the raging inferno of emotions inside me.
I closed my eyes, the echoes of Lily's footsteps still ringing in my ears. In the silence that followed, I felt nothing but an all consuming emptiness. The silence in the room was deafening, the air thick with the aftermath of my rage. Withdrawing my fist from the wall, I flexed my hand, trying to work the tension from my muscles.
I turned, my eyes falling upon the wreckage I had wrought. The bedroom was a mess, the remnants of my wrath scattered across the floor. I sank to the floor, my body deflating like a broken balloon.
With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself to my feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand. I straightened my shirt, smoothing out the creases that had formed during my outburst. Stepping over the rubble that littered the floor, I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The chill helped to snap me out of my daze, and I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
The man staring back at me was a stranger, his eyes hollow, his face drawn and haggard. But there was work to be done, responsibilities to attend to. As I finished preparing for work, I stepped out of the bathroom, my footsteps echoing through the house.
I spotted one of my bodyguards standing in the hallway, his face a mask of professionalism.
"Make sure this room is cleaned up before I return," I said, my voice hard and commanding. "And make sure Lily does not leave the house without my permission."
The bodyguard nodded, his face impassive. "Yes, sir," he said. "It will be taken care of."
"Chris my child....what have you done?" My mother said to me with the worried expression on her face when she noticed me leaving.
"What I needed to do mum...she needs to know that I'm the boss around here and she can't just do what she likes," I said without turning to her as I walked out the front door.
The drive to work was a blur, the world around me a gray, muted haze. I sat in the back of my car, watching my driver as he gripped the steering turning the wheel so calmly unaware of the distastrous storm that was happening inside of me.
He parked the car in the parking lot, the engine clicking softly as it cooled.
"We're here Sir," he said
"I can see that," I said in a cold flat tone.
"My apologies, Mr. Morgan," I decided to sit in the car for a few moments, staring out the window, lost in my thoughts.