Twenty

CHAPTER 20

Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor with a vacant expression. Inside her chest, sadness mixed with anger churned relentlessly. She struggled to hold back her tears, trying to bury her emotions deep within. But her thoughts kept returning to this marriage, to the bond that now tied her to Antonio, the man she hated most. Her hands clenched in her lap, nails digging into her skin, as she sought control over the escalating unease consuming her.

Across the room, Antonio placed several folders on the table, closing them with swift and deliberate movements. His suit was slightly wrinkled, yet he still exuded the intimidating aura of a commanding man. After setting down the documents, Antonio loosened his tie, pulling it off with one strong tug, then unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time. Cassandra glanced at him briefly, then quickly turned away, feeling a mix of disgust and helplessness at the situation.

Antonio looked at her with an inscrutable gaze, as if trying to read every expression on her face. "So, Cassandra," he said in a low, cold voice, "you seem tense. Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Cassandra exhaled deeply, attempting to calm the tension coursing through her body. She looked at Antonio with cold, hate-filled eyes. "There's nothing to talk about, Antonio," she replied curtly, her voice trembling slightly.

Antonio let out a small smile, one that only fanned the flames of Cassandra’s anger. She knew he was enjoying this moment, savoring every second of seeing her in a vulnerable state. Antonio stepped closer, moving toward her with a casual yet still intimidating gait.

"You know, Cassandra," he whispered, his tone soft but laced with venom, "I want us to understand each other. Isn’t that the purpose of this marriage?"

Cassandra glared at him, resisting the urge to unleash the sharp words on the tip of her tongue. She remained silent, holding herself back, unwilling to give Antonio the satisfaction of seeing her true reaction.

Antonio leaned in closer, tilting his head and fixing her with a sharp, subtly threatening gaze. "Do you know what would make you feel more at ease?" he asked, his tone soft yet heavy with meaning. He stepped toward the bedside table and gestured to a small square box wrapped in a red ribbon. "That’s a gift for you," he said, his voice both enticing and manipulative. "Tonight is our first night together, so I thought you deserved something special."

Cassandra looked at the box with reluctance, though a tinge of curiosity stirred within her. She stood and walked slowly toward the table, reaching out to pick up the box. She untied the red ribbon, holding her breath, and opened the box slowly. Inside lay a piece of lingerie, a seductive red satin slip with delicate lace trim.

Cassandra’s expression shifted, a mix of shock and anger. She clutched the fabric in her hand, resisting the urge to throw it in Antonio’s face. But she knew that such an act would only bring him more satisfaction.

Cassandra stood frozen in place, staring at the red satin in her hand with growing disgust. Her mind swirled with rage, yet she felt trapped, powerless against the situation pressing in on her from every side. She realized that resisting or fighting back would only feed Antonio's satisfaction. Instead, Cassandra decided to comply with his request, though every step she took felt like a betrayal of herself.

She walked toward the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her, trying to steady her uneven breathing. Inside the cold, silent bathroom, Cassandra stared at herself in the mirror. Her gaze was empty, her lips tightly pressed together. The white gown she wore still radiated purity, but Cassandra knew it was all an illusion. Beneath that purity lay wounds and hatred no one else could see.

With trembling hands, Cassandra removed her gown, letting the fabric fall gently to the floor. She opened the box she had carried from the bedroom, revealing black lingerie, cut provocatively and made of sheer fabric.

Cassandra bit her lip, trying to suppress the shame and disgust rising within her. She picked up the lingerie and put it on slowly, allowing her body to be exposed beneath the thin fabric. Every passing second felt agonizingly long, as if this was some kind of torturous ritual.

Standing in front of the mirror, Cassandra gazed at her reflection, her feelings a chaotic mix. Her body appeared alluring, but in her eyes, only hardened hatred and suppressed pain were visible. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to return to the bedroom. Yet a dark thought crossed her mind. Amid the suffocating sense of entrapment, a burning desire for revenge grew stronger.

Her eyes fell on a small drawer near the sink. She reached out, opened it, and found a small knife, typically used for cutting thread. It wasn’t large, but it was sharp enough to pierce flesh. Cassandra picked up the knife carefully, feeling its edge against her fingers. She stared at it for a moment, her long-buried despair morphing into a terrifying courage.

Slowly, Cassandra slipped the small knife into the top of her long black stocking. Her heartbeat quickened, but not from fear—rather, from a desire to act on thoughts she had long suppressed. If Antonio thought she would simply submit, Cassandra was ready to show him just how wrong he was.

After calming her breathing, Cassandra opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom. Antonio was waiting there, sitting on the edge of the bed with an expression of anticipation that made Cassandra’s stomach turn. He looked her up and down, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. "Magnificent, Cassandra," he said softly, his voice sounding like praise veiled in threat. "I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me."

Cassandra stood before Antonio, forcing a cold smile onto her lips. She worked to hide the disgust boiling inside her, all the while feeling the small knife concealed in her stocking. She knew this might be her only chance to end this suffering. One swift motion, and it could all be over.

Antonio, unaware of Cassandra’s plans, seemed increasingly pleased with the scene before him. He leaned closer, staring at Cassandra as though she were a prize he had just claimed.

Cassandra stared back, her sharp eyes full of suppressed hatred. She was ready—ready to enact the revenge she had been planning for so long. Antonio had no idea that behind Cassandra’s seemingly resigned demeanor lay an unstoppable fury, and she was prepared to strike him down with the blade hidden in her hand.