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Chapter 7: MONSTERS ARE JUST MISUNDERSTOOD PEOPLE.

last update Last Updated: 2025-01-13 19:13:44

MYA

I stared at Angelo, His voice was calm, like he wasn’t saying the most humiliating thing I’d ever heard. I felt like I was shrinking in front of him, and there was nowhere to hide.

“I don’t fuck virgins,” he said with a hint of finality as if that was the end of the conversation.

My cheeks burned, and I clenched my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I’m not a child,” I said, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. It was nowhere close to intimidating.

His eyebrows rose slightly, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really?” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Then tell me, what do you know about sex?”

I don’t know what I was expecting but this question was definitely not it. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I knew the basics, sure—what everyone my age knew—but I didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He was older, experienced, and there was no way I could bluff my way through this conversation.

“Exactly,” he said when I stayed silent. His smirk vanished, replaced by a serious expression that made me feel even smaller. “You don’t know anything, and I’m not interested in teaching you.”

I looked down at the floor, my face burning with embarrassment. I felt humiliated, like a child being scolded for something I didn’t even understand. I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn’t find the words. Deep down, I knew he wasn’t.

He sighed, the sound heavy and tired, like I was just another problem he didn’t want to deal with. “This is how it’s going to work,” he said, his tone firm and unyielding. “To the outside world, we’ll be a married couple. You’ll smile, wear the ring, and play the part. But once we’re behind closed doors, it’s all for show.”

I looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“I mean,” he said, leaning forward and looking me straight in the eyes, “we’ll live separate lives. Separate rooms, separate everything. You don’t bother me, and I won’t bother you.”

I’d known this wasn’t a real marriage, not in the traditional sense, but hearing him spell it out like this made it feel even worse. “Why did you marry me, then?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you think I wanted this?” he asked, his tone sharp. “If I’d known how young you were, I would’ve ended it before it began. But you’ve managed to get yourself into a mess that you can’t get out of on your own. This marriage is the only way to keep you alive.”

I blinked, his words sinking in. Alive? I knew I was in trouble, but I hadn’t realized just how bad it was. “So… you’re just doing this out of pity?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Pity?” He shook his head, his expression dark. “No. This isn’t pity. This is practicality. You’re accused of murder, Mya. If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d already be dead.”

I flinched and looked down at my lap, unable to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but my chest felt tight, and my throat ached with the effort of holding back tears.

He sighed again, softer this time. “Look,” he said, his voice a little gentler, “I’m going to protect you. Not because I want to, but because I have to. That’s what this marriage is—a shield. For now.”

“For now?” I asked, looking up at him, my voice small.

“In a year,” he said, “this mess will be cleaned up. The accusations will be gone, and you’ll be free to go. We’ll get a divorce, and you can go live your life. I’ll find a real woman to marry. Someone grown. Someone who can give me what I need.”

I frowned, confused. “What you need?” I repeated genuinely confused as to what he meant.

He gave me a look, one that made me feel even more naive than I already did. “A woman who knows what she’s doing in bed,” he said bluntly. “And one who can give me an heir.”

My face turned red, and I looked away, mortified. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stayed quiet. I wished I could disappear.

“Do you understand now?” he asked after a moment, his tone firm. “This isn’t a real marriage. It’s a deal. A temporary arrangement to keep you alive and out of the grave. That’s all.”

I nodded slowly, my hands clenched tightly in my lap. “I understand,” I said, though my voice sounded hollow to my own ears.

“Good,” he said, standing up. “Then we won’t have any problems. Just stay out of my way, and this will all be over before you know it.”

I sat there for a moment, stunned, staring at the door Angelo had just walked out of. I was still a little embarrassed by all the things we just discussed but for the first time in what felt like ages, the weight crushing my chest began to lift. I couldn’t believe it. In one year, I’d be free. Free from this sham of a marriage, free from the accusations hanging over my head, free to start over. Free to live free like a fucking bird.

I smiled, almost laughing out loud at how absurdly lucky I felt. Just like that, I had a deadline—a light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to cling to. Suddenly, life didn’t seem as horrible as it did seconds ago.

The sound of Angelo’s footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts. He walked back into the room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored trousers.

“You’re still sitting here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I stood up quickly, smoothing down my skirt as if that would make me look less foolish. “Sorry, I was just—” I stopped myself, realizing I had no explanation that wouldn’t sound ridiculous.

He waved off whatever I had to say. “Whatever. Go put on some shoes,” he said, his tone sharp but not mean.

“Why?” I asked, confused.

He looked at me like the answer was obvious. “Because you can’t walk around barefoot, and we have things to do. First, we’re getting you clothes that don’t look like they belong to...” He paused, clearly searching for a nice word, but his expression said it all. “...someone else,” he finished.

I blushed, glancing down at my outfit. It wasn’t my fault that this was the only thing available, but I wasn’t about to argue.

“Then,” he continued, “we’ll get you a phone. You can’t be running around without a way to contact me or anyone else for emergencies.”

A phone? That caught my attention. I hadn’t had a phone in months—my brothers had taken mine after one of my multiple attempts to escape.

“And,” he added, his tone growing more serious, “you’re getting assigned personal bodyguards. They’ll be with you at all times, no exceptions. This isn’t optional. It’s for your safety.”

My mouth fell open slightly. Clothes, a phone, and now bodyguards? My head spun trying to keep up. I felt giddy, almost like a child being told they could pick out anything they wanted from the toy store.

“Thank you,” I said, almost jumping to hug him.

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before shrugging. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Just go put on your shoes.”

I nodded, practically running out of the room. In my room, I dug through my belongings to find a pair of flats. They were plain and worn, but they would do. I slipped them on quickly, smoothing my hair in the mirror before hurrying back downstairs.

When I returned, Angelo was waiting by the door, his phone in hand. He looked up when he heard me, giving me a once-over before nodding in approval.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding the door open for me.

I hesitated for a second, caught off guard by the gesture. It was such a small thing, but it felt... kind. It was so small a gesture but I had received only a handful of it in my lifetime and not once since I found out that I was getting married to him did I imagine that he was going to hold a door open for me.

I imagined a shitload of things and thought about the millions of ways he could end my life but the irony was that he was the one saving it now.

“Earth to Mya!” he said and even the way he said my name did something to me. Something nice.

“Sorry,” I said as walked through the door.

As we walked toward the car, I couldn’t help but glance at Angelo. His expression was unreadable, as always, but I found myself wondering if maybe—just maybe—the world had gotten him wrong.

Everyone talked about him like he was some sort of monster, a ruthless tyrant who cared about nothing but power. But here he was, helping me when he didn’t have to. He could have left me to fend for myself, but instead, he was giving me a chance—a way out.

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