The tension in the living room was palpable. Malcolm stood towering over Lucia, his icy glare matching her furious expression. Across the room, Morgan and Brenda marched Celine and Mattias toward the front door. Their muffled protests barely reached Lucia's ears, but she couldn't ignore the pit forming in her stomach.
"Where are you taking them?" Lucia asked worriedly, her voice trembling as she tried to step after Morgan and Brenda.
Before she could move further, Malcolm grabbed her arm firmly, stopping her in her tracks.
"Worrying about your friends?" he asked, his tone cold and cutting. "I suggest you worry about yourself first. There's about to be a change in this mansion."
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air as Lucia turned to face him, her confusion mingling with her lingering anger.
"Lucia," Malcolm continued, his voice lowering into something more menacing, "if you want your friends as intact as they ought to be, you will do as I say."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her mind raced. "Why should I follow your rules, Malcolm Sterling? Why?" she cried out, her voice laced with frustration and anguish as she shook his hands off her arm.
Malcolm's jaw tightened, and a dangerous fire ignited in his eyes. "Because I am your husband," he bellowed, his voice reverberating across the room, silencing her momentarily.
Lucia glared at him, unflinching. "But we don't love each other," she countered bitterly, her voice trembling with both fury and hurt.
Malcolm scoffed and leaned in closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "Is that why you were dancing like that at the club?" he demanded, his voice sharp enough to slice through the tension.
Lucia flinched at the accusation, her body freezing in disbelief.
"You saw it," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You're unbelievable, Malcolm. You let your lackeys play spy, and now you think you can hold that over me?"
Malcolm ignored her words, his anger reaching a boiling point. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to look up at him.
"I hate you, Malcolm Sterling! I hate you so much!" Lucia cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to fight his grip.
Malcolm finally released her, shoving her back into the chair with a force that made her gasp. She tried to stand, but his commanding voice stopped her.
"Sit down," he growled.
Still fuming, Malcolm began pacing the room like a predator circling its prey. His hands were clenched at his sides as if he was restraining himself from doing something more drastic.
"Since you've clearly forgotten what it means to be Mrs. Sterling," he began, his voice cold and detached, "let me remind you of the new rules you will follow."
Lucia's defiance returned as she sat straighter in the chair, her tear-streaked face glaring up at him. But the look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine—he wasn't bluffing.
"First rule," Malcolm declared. "You don't have to go to work any longer. Morgan and Mattias will handle it for you."
Lucia's mouth fell open in shock. "What?!"
"You heard me," he said sharply. "Your company is no longer your concern. If you want your friends to remain unharmed, you'll let them take over."
Her anger boiled over as she shot up from the chair. "You can't just—"
Malcolm pushed her back down, his voice thundering. "I can, and I already have. Sit."
Lucia sat, stunned into silence.
"Second rule," he continued, "all your wardrobe will be changed. I don't want a whore for a wife. You'll only wear conservative dresses from now on."
Her lips parted to argue, but the venom in his tone warned her not to push him further. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as her mind screamed in frustration.
"The third rule," Malcolm said, stepping closer to her, "whether you're hungry or not, you will sit with me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Do you understand me?"
Lucia said nothing, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
"And in addition to that," he added, leaning closer, "you'll pick out every outfit I wear for the day."
Her silence only seemed to fuel his determination.
"Fourth rule," he said, his tone colder than ever, "you cannot go out unless you have my permission. If I'm not home, you'll tell Judy before you step out."
Lucia's lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing at him.
"And when you do go out," Malcolm continued, "you're not allowed to meet another man. Tonight's event will not happen again."
Lucia's head snapped up at his words, her fury flaring back to life. "You can't control me like this, Malcolm!" she spat.
He ignored her outburst. "Fifth rule," he said, his voice lower but no less menacing, "you will fulfill your marital duties within these six months of marriage."
Lucia shot up from the chair, her anger boiling over. "Malcolm, you're insane!" she screamed in his face.
"Sit down!" Malcolm roared, his voice shaking the room.
Lucia's chest heaved with the force of her rage, but she stayed standing, her defiance unwavering.
"You can throw all the ridiculous rules you want at me," she said, her voice trembling with both fury and tears, "but you will never control me. Never."
Malcolm's expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he stared her down. "Then you better prepare yourself, Lucia," he said quietly, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Because you have no choice in this matter."
Lucia's breath hitched, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, of rebellion, but Malcolm's imposing presence made her feel trapped.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the sound of their labored breathing.
"You're a monster," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"And you're my wife," Malcolm shot back, his voice cold and unrelenting.
Lucia turned her head away, unable to look at him any longer. Her mind screamed at her to run, to fight, but her heart ached for the friends she couldn't abandon.
Celine and Mattias.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat, but her eyes still burned with defiance. She wasn't giving up—not yet.
Malcolm watched her closely, his own emotions buried deep beneath his hardened exterior. Without another word, he turned and left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing through the mansion.
Lucia sat there alone, her hands trembling in her lap as her mind raced. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.