Chapter 5 A HUSBAND'S CLAIM

Chapter 5

Raymond's POV

The morning light filtered through the curtains, stirring me from a deep, satisfying sleep. I blinked lazily, the events of the night playing back in my mind like a victorious memory. A smirk tugged at my lips as I stretched, my body relaxed and content.

I turned slightly and my eyes fell on the bed-the faint stains of blood on the white sheets catching my attention. Pride swelled in my chest at the sight. So, she really was untouched. A wicked satisfaction washed over me, knowing I was the first man to have her.

She's mine now. Fully.

I glanced at her side of the bed, where the crumpled blanket lay empty. She wasn't there. I frowned slightly, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the room. It didn't take long to hear the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

Hiding already? I thought, a smirk forming on my lips. As if that'll change anything.

Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair and looked back at the stained sheets again. For a moment, there was silence-peaceful, almost. I should've felt something-remorse, maybe. Guilt? But I didn't. Why would I? She brought this on herself.

"She lied," I muttered to no one but myself. "She said I got her pregnant, so this is exactly what she deserves."

The thought of last night filled me with nothing but triumph. She had cried and pleaded, but it didn't matter. As her husband, she was mine to claim, and I had done just that.

I stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover myself as I moved toward the bathroom door. I could hear her muffled sobs from the other side, and it only made me roll my eyes. Tears. Again.

"You can't cry your way out of this, Ariana," I said loud enough for her to hear, knocking on the bathroom door with the back of my knuckles. I waited for a moment, smirking when the sobs quieted. "You wanted this marriage, didn't you? You knew the price."

Silence.

"Open the door," I commanded, my voice firm. I waited, and when she didn't respond, I sighed, turning away. Let her cry all she wants. It wouldn't change the fact that she was mine-legally, physically, and in every other way that mattered.

I grabbed a clean shirt from the chair, dressing lazily before walking toward the window. Outside, the morning sun was bright, the sky impossibly clear. A new day, a new beginning-and she would learn to accept it, whether she liked it or not.

"She'll come around," I muttered to myself, the smirk still lingering on my lips. She has no choice.

With one last glance at the bathroom door, I left the room, closing it behind me. I went to my own room and head to my bathroom to take my bath.

After I was done I stepped out of the bedroom and put on black trousers with white shirt, I put on my tie, tooked my jacket and walked down the hallway, adjusting my cufflinks as I made my way to my office. I had no time for her tears or tantrums this morning-I had far more important things to deal with.

I could still hear faint noises coming from the bathroom behind the closed door, but I pushed it out of my mind. She'll stop eventually. It wasn't my concern.

As I descended the stairs, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen-it was a message from my assistant, reminding me of the meetings lined up for the day. Good. Work would distract me.

By the time I reached my office, the world outside had already started to come alive. I settled into my chair, the leather cool against my back, and opened my laptop. The numbers, reports, and business dealings on my screen were a welcome relief from the chaos Ariana had brought into my life.

She needs to learn her place. The thought lingered as I sipped my coffee. I didn't regret what had happened. She lied. She manipulated the situation to trap me into this marriage. Last night was simply me taking what was already mine by right.

But having her in my house... that was something I couldn't get used to. She didn't belong here-not yet. Her tears and defiance would only complicate things further, and I couldn't afford distractions right now.

She'll have to adapt, I thought, my fingers tapping against the keyboard rhythmically. I won't have her turning my life upside down.

Still, as much as I didn't want to think about her, flashes of last night kept surfacing-her tears, her broken pleas, and the way she looked at me with pure hatred. I frowned, irritated by the memory.

Why did it bother me? She got what she deserved.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought out of my mind as I climbed into my car. I had more important things to focus on today. The drive to my office was uneventful, and as I pulled into the parking lot, I could already see Simon rushing towards me, eager to assist.

"Good morning, sir," he said, grabbing my briefcase. "I thought you weren't coming in today."

"Have I ever missed a day of work?" I replied, my voice cold as I walked past him, shutting down any further questions.

My employees greeted me as I entered the building, offering congratulations on my marriage. The forced smiles and words of praise didn't faze me. I nodded politely but didn't stop to engage.

The moment I reached my office, I settled into my chair, pushing the thoughts of Ariana back into the farthest corner of my mind. I needed to focus.

As I looked over the reports in front of me, the weight of my decisions began to settle in, but I refused to let it distract me. I was in control here. The more time I spent in my office, the clearer it became-I would keep my distance from her for now. Let her cry herself out. Let her stew in her anger and shame. Eventually, she'd realize that resistance was pointless.

The sooner she accepted her role as my wife, the easier this would be for both of us. Even though, deep down, I knew she could never truly be my wife.

I glanced at the time-already past seven. Sighing, I closed the files scattered on my desk and packed up for the day. The office was eerily silent as I stepped out, the dimly lit hallways and distant hum of the security cameras the only signs of life. Everyone else had gone home hours ago.

Sliding into my car, I started the engine and let the familiar routine of the drive soothe my thoughts. The quiet streets mirrored the calm I hoped to find at home-though I doubted Ariana would allow that.

When I arrived, the house was still and quiet. But as I stepped into the living room, there she was, sitting on the couch. She didn't even flinch as the door clicked shut behind me.

She was lost in thought, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.

"You're still crying?" I asked, tossing my briefcase onto the couch. My voice was cold, disinterested. "You're making this harder than it needs to be."

Her head snapped up, her red-rimmed eyes burning with fury. "You're a monster."

I smirked, stepping closer. "I'm your husband."

"You'll never be my husband," she spat, her voice trembling but laced with defiance.

I tilted my head, studying her like a puzzle that refused to fit. The fire in her eyes amused me-it was futile, but it was there.

"You'll learn, Ariana," I said, my voice soft but firm, almost mocking. "You don't have a choice."

Her fists clenched, her entire body stiffening. "You don't own me."

I chuckled darkly, the sound echoing in the silent room. "I do now."

The air between us was tense, charged with unspoken anger and resentment. But her resistance only fueled my resolve. She could fight all she wanted-it wouldn't change anything.

With that, I turned and walked past her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her anger and defiance were exhausting, but I couldn't afford to let it affect me.

When I got to my room, my eyes immediately fell on the medical report lying on the table. My chest tightened, the weight of the words on those pages pressing down on me like a vice.

The doctor's voice echoed in my head, calm but unrelenting. "Raymond, the tumor is aggressive. Without treatment, you have months at best."

I clenched my fists, the muscles in my jaw tightening as I fought back the surge of frustration and dread that always accompanied the memory. Months. It wasn't enough.

Sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed, I picked up the report, though I didn't need to read it again. The words were already etched into my mind. Glioblastoma. A brain tumor. The prognosis was grim, and the clock was ticking. I have a month left on earth.