Married to the Son :Owned by the Father

Rosalie Gaston POV

I carried the square cake box and stepped out of the shop with a faint smile.

It was my sister-in-law's birthday, and my brother had insisted I bring the cake before the weather turned. But I was late.

I desperately needed just a few minutes to breathe, away from the walls of that house that felt like a prison.

Cold raindrops splashed against my face. I lifted my hand to shield the cake, but within seconds the drizzle became a storm. My hair clung to my skin, my clothes soaked through, my breath tightening in my chest.

"My luck is cursed. What a shame."

"All this trouble for a cake? How pathetic."

"He's going to kill me. My funeral will be held the moment I arrive."

That wasn't a joke. It was the truth I knew too well. I knew how his anger could turn into something darker.

I ran with everything I had, ignoring the cold that cut straight into my bones. Every step felt like a fight for survival.

When I pushed myself to run faster, my foot twisted and I stumbled. The box slipped from my hands and rolled before stopping dead in front of me. My face froze, horror spilling across my features. The cake must have lost its perfect round shape.

I refused to check. Too scared to see the damage, I picked up the box and rushed to the door of the house. The moment I grabbed the handle and opened it, I was greeted by my brother's grim face.

"When will you learn to obey the second I give an order, you stubborn brat? Didn't you see the storm coming?"

He snatched the box from my hands, his breath hot with rage. I whispered, nervous and trembling, "I ran all the way here so I wouldn't be any later."

He caught my wet hair between his fingers and yanked hard. Pain distorted my face as he dragged me inside and slammed the door.

"Look at you, for God's sake! You look like a stray cat!"

Shame burned my lips. I pulled my arms across my chest, used to covering up because of his strict rules.

"Did you ruin my wife's birthday cake?"

He almost opened the box, but I caught his hand quickly.

"No, I didn't mean to. It's just that"

He shook me off with a scowl. "Confess before I kill you with my own hands."

"My foot twisted on the way. I fell. The box slipped out of my grip."

His wife's voice cut in, sharp and impatient. "Should I cancel my birthday because your stupid sister couldn't walk straight on her way back?"

He growled at her, trying to calm her. "Don't worry, darling. We'll check the cake."

He opened the box in front of me. His tongue wet his lips with hunger, but his eyes burned with fury as he roared, "It's ruined, you worthless brat!"

"I told you, I didn't do it on purpose! I didn't throw it!"

I shut my eyes tight as his hand cut through the air. The slap landed, snapping my face to the side with a strangled gasp.

"Do you want another one before you apologize? When will you learn to grow up, to get some sense in your head? Do you still think you're a little girl I'll forgive?"

His wife hissed, annoyed. "That's enough, Damon. Don't waste your anger on her. I expected nothing less from her. She can't do anything right."

I pressed trembling fingers to my cheek. He shot back harshly, "But she won't escape punishment so easily. I'll add a few new bruises to that weak little body. Don't you agree?"

With his last words, he grabbed my chin hard, forcing me to look up at him. It was routine. The routine of my misery.

"Please, don't do it."

He didn't care. Not at all. He dropped the cake on the floor and dragged me upstairs to my attic room. He shoved me so hard I cried out as my arms scraped against the floor.

"This won't be as bad as last time, Rosalie. I'll go easy on you tonight, since you didn't defy me over your clothes like you did last week."

Last week, a friend had lent me a pair of loose shorts for gym class. His wife had searched my closet behind my back and told him.

I pushed myself backward with my hands as he crouched in front of me. Fear swallowed me whole. He leaned closer, squeezing my jaw until it ached.

"You should've obeyed. But you only ever bring misery on yourself."

"My wife's mood is ruined because of you. Damn you."

I whispered, trembling, "I wasn't careless."

Your wife doesn't love you.

I didn't say it. The words stayed trapped behind my tongue like poison.

He yanked my hair so hard it rattled my lashes. "Don't you dare talk back to me, Rosalie! One day I'll kill you with my own hands. Whether you like it or not!"

I'd grown used to his violence. Used to the bruises and the hatred. All because I was blamed for our mother's death; because I was born and she wasn't. She had been his everything. And I was the reason she was gone.

"I made a mistake when I stopped using my belt, you cursed brat."

He struck me again. The blows rained down on my hands until the skin swelled, then across my mouth until blood smeared my lips.

"The older you get, the uglier your tongue becomes. Especially when you speak to me. You should learn my rules as if for the first time, every single day."

"I'll lock you in here until tomorrow, when you'll go to high school. Don't bother Genevieve with the bathroom tonight."

I smiled despite the pain. For the first time. A small smile. A real one.

"One day... you won't hit me again. And I won't come back here."

He didn't answer. He just slammed the door shut and turned the key.

I was alone. As I always was.