CHAPTER 006

CHAPTER 006

My body was trembling with silent sobs, and I stood outside the door. Through the crack, Lilith’s voice came, sharp and mocking, each moan a cruel reminder of all I’d never been to Rowan. Each sound cut deeper, stabbing a knife into my chest.

Tears streamed down my face, my lips quivered. I thought of all the nights I had spent with Rowan, the pain, the biting of my lips to keep from crying out. He had never looked at me the way he looked at her. It had never been gentle, because he had never cared enough to make it so. It was always cold, mechanical, something he never asked for. Until now, I thought that was all there was.

I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor, pressing my back against it. The sounds from the room didn’t stop, and I felt a strange mix of shame and rage. I tried to block them out but my hands clenched into fists and they were relentless. Lilith’s laughter was echoey and taunting in my ears.

Was I really so naive? If I had really thought that love would be enough?

I stood up, paused to wipe at my face with trembling hands, then realized my breaths were coming quicker, harsher. I needed to do something. Anything.  

I walked through to the kitchen made sterile and unwelcoming by the sharp fluorescent lights. As I stepped inside, I froze. The maids were huddled near the sink, their voices low, but not low enough.  

One of them whispered, “It’s so sad.”  

Another said, “I don’t understand why she stays.” “He’s worse than a dog to her.”  

The first one said, “She doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” “She’s trapped.”  

I took a step back, out of sight, my heart pounding. Every word they spoke felt like someone was slapping you, harder than the other. Trapped. They thought I was that. And maybe they were right.  

I glanced around the kitchen, looking at the knives by the stove. I took one without thinking the cool metal feeling solid, heavy in my hand.  

My chest grew hot and uncontrollable with anger. I wasn’t going to let them laugh at me, mock me anymore. I wasn’t going to be pitied.

I stiffened and turned toward the hallway, hearing the sound of footsteps. Their laughter was as carefree as if nothing had happened, they were coming downstairs. I held the knife tighter, my breaths shallow.

Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, she appeared first. She glowed, smirked content. Rowan followed, his face was unreadable, both tie loosened and his shirt slightly rumpled.  

When they saw me standing there, they both froze.  

Lilith smirked, widening it. “Oh, look.” “The wife.”  

Rowan’s eyes darted to the knife in my hand, but he didn’t say anything.  

I tried to speak, but nothing came out.  

“What’s the matter, Sarah?” Her tone was dripping with fake concern, Lilith asked. “You look upset. Did we interrupt something?”  

I stepped forward, my hand on the knife.  

She said softly, mockingly, 'Careful.' “Don’t hurt yourself.”  

Her words made me furious, and for a moment I saw myself leaping at her, ending this nightmare. But then Rowan took the step forward and his gaze locked with mine–cold and calculating.

He said his voice calm but firm, 'Sarah.' “Put the knife down.”  

I didn’t move.  

He took another step closer, saying, “Now.”  

Slowly I lowered the knife and my hands trembled. The sound echoed through the kitchen as it slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor.  

A light, care free laugh escaped Lilith. “I didn’t think you could do it, but you really thought you could, didn’t you?” she asked, flashing her green eyes. “You thought you could actually keep him, didn’t you?”  

My throat was tight, I swallowed hard.  

She stepped closer, continuing, “You’re nothing, Sarah.” “Nothing but a placeholder. A sad little girl playing house with a man who was never yours to begin with.”  

Rowan said sharply, his voice cutting through her laughter, “Lilith.”  

Her smirk faded slightly as she looked at him. “What? “That’s just the truth,” I’m telling her.  

He said, his tone not allowing for argument, “Go upstairs.”  

She paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. ‘Have fun cleaning up your mess.’”  

She shot me one last look as she walked away, her smirk returning.  

She was out of sight before Rowan turned back to me. He asked, his voice low and controlled, “What were you thinking?”  

“I wasn’t,” I said, my voice shaking.  

He curled his lips into a faint sneer and said, 'No.' “You weren’t.”  

He grabbed my arm, his fetters not painful but firm as he pulled me towards the stairs.  

“Rowan, no—” I’d started, but he’d stopped me.  

“Don’t,” he said.  

He took me into the bedroom and locked the door. I heard the lock click and shivered.  

He asked in a calm, but icy voice, “Why do you always make things so hard for yourself?”  

“Harder for myself?” My anger flared again, and I repeated. “You’re the one who—”  

He cut me off. “Enough.” “You know what this is. You’ve always known.”  

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I shook my head. “Rowan, please. I love you. I just want—”  

He said the word 'love' dripping with disdain. “You think love matters here? You’re nothing, Sarah. Nothing but merchandise. Something I bought.”  

His words crushed whatever was left of my spirit, and I flinched.  

He stepped closer, continuing, “You can love me all you want.” “Don’t expect anything in return, though.” You’re here for a reason. That’s it.”  

His grip was tighter this time, and he grabbed my arm again.  

I said, panic rising in my chest, “Rowan, no.”  

But he didn’t stop.  

It wasn’t as violent as before this time. The pain was still there, but it didn’t hurt as much. I didn’t bleed. That was the only difference.  

He stood and adjusted his shirt, his movements calm and deliberate when it was over.  

He turned his back to me and said, “You’ll stay here.” “You’ll remember your place.”  

He closed the door softly behind him, leaving me in silence.  

My body trembled, my mind raced, and I lay there. There was still pain, but there was something else too. A sliver of hope.  

Perhaps if I gave him something, something real, something ours, he would learn to love me.  

Perhaps a child could make all the difference.  

Could it?  

Would it?