Kezia gripped her trembling hands, staring at the closed office door in front of her. This time, she'd tell Ethan exactly how she felt. She'd tell him the truth about the pain she'd hidden, the ache of being ignored and treated like an accessory, the bitter shame of watching him bring other women into their life.
As she pushed open the door, her pulse pounded in her ears. Ethan was seated behind his desk, scrolling through something on his phone, his attention unwavering until she cleared her throat. He looked up, his expression blank, as if he'd already grown tired of her presence.
"Ethan," she said, her voice firmer than she expected, "we need to talk."
He raised an eyebrow, smirking, the way he always did when she dared to speak. "About what, Kezia? Are you here to complain again?"
She swallowed hard. The urge to back down clashed with the need to stand her ground, and she took a deep breath. "About us. This... marriage. I can't keep living like this, being disrespected and—" Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. "You treat me like I'm invisible. Worse, actually."
His expression shifted, a look of mock sympathy crossing his face. "Oh, so now you're going to lecture me about respect?" He laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "If you can't handle a little reality, maybe you're not cut out to be my wife."
Kezia felt her resolve waver, but she held onto the edge of his desk to steady herself. "I'm asking you to respect me, Ethan. At least try to understand how humiliating it is for me. You bring other women into our house, in front of everyone. How do you think that makes me look?"
"Maybe if you were a little more interesting, I wouldn't have to," he sneered, dismissively. "You're dull, Kezia. Always so obedient, so eager to please. I'm starting to think that's the only thing you know how to do."
Her hands clenched into fists. "Maybe that's because it's the only thing you let me do," she fired back, a tremor of defiance in her voice. "You treat me like I'm worthless, and yet expect me to stand by your side, no matter what."
Ethan's smirk faded, and his expression hardened. "Listen to me carefully, Kezia." He stood up, crossing the room until he loomed over her. "Your duty is to be here, to be quiet, and to play the role I need you to. That's what you were brought into this family for. Nothing more."
A chill ran down her spine, but before she could respond, the door swung open, and Catherine strode in, her eyes narrowing at the sight of her. "What's all this commotion about?"
Kezia opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Ethan cut in. "Your daughter-in-law here seems to have forgotten her place. She thinks she's entitled to respect," he sneered, his gaze flicking over Kezia with contempt.
Catherine's expression turned to one of disapproval as she turned on Kezia. "You ungrateful girl," she snapped. "We gave you everything, a life most could only dream of. And this is how you repay us? Complaining about your duties?"
Kezia's mouth went dry. "I... I just wanted to be treated like a person."
Catherine scoffed, a cold smile on her face. "A person? You're here because I bought you off your parents. And if you ever dare to even think about leaving, you'll find yourself owing us every cent we invested. A whooping 20 million dollars for every single favor we've done for you. You think you're trapped now? Try leaving and see what happens."
Kezia stared at Catherine, the reality of her situation settling over her like a lead weight. There was nowhere to go. No one to turn to.
"And don't think I won't sell your organs if I have to," Catherine added, her voice dripping with contempt.
Ethan watched the exchange with satisfaction, his lips curling into a smile. "Now that that's settled, I'll expect my dinner tonight at seven sharp. I have guests coming over."
Kezia could barely breathe as she left the office, her legs carrying her back to her room as though on autopilot. She was numb, her mind replaying their words, each one leaving a deeper wound. Her place was nowhere but here, shackled to the life they'd forced on her, with no hope of escape.
The thought of surrendering, of enduring each day in quiet misery, clawed at her, making her feel like she was suffocating. But as she lay in her bed that night, alone and cold, something began to simmer within her.
She gripped the edge of her pillow, feeling the first traces of anger, a feeling she'd never let herself embrace. The injustice of it all, the years of submission, the pain, the humiliation—each memory sharpened into a blade, a blade she held onto in the quiet darkness.
This wasn't just sorrow. This was fury. And as that fury grew, she made herself a silent promise. One day, somehow, she'd make them pay for every single wound they'd left on her heart.
As her eyes closed, that promise took root, intertwining with the bitterness and pain. One day, they'd see. And when they did, she'd be the one standing over them, not the other way around.