Chapter 4 Four

Chapter 4

Eva's Point of View

I hesitate for a moment, standing in the doorway, my heart pounding in my chest. Max is sitting on the couch, his expression was cold, his eyes met me with that same icy glare. He holds a glass of whiskey in one hand, even though it's barely morning.

"Sit," he said, his tone sharp and commanding.

I don't want to. Every part of me screams to run, to get away from him, but my legs move on their own, carrying me to the chair across from him. I sit down slowly, keeping as much distance between us as I can, my back straight and my hands clenched in my lap. The ache in my body reminds me of what he did to me, how he forcefully took away my pride and dignity but I force myself to ignore it.

He takes a long sip from his glass before setting it down on the table, the sound of it clinking against the wood breaking the heavy silence.

"We need to set some rules since we both are living together," Max said, his voice cold and it lacks empathy. "This marriage isn't going to work if you don't know your place."

I feel my chest tighten, anger bubbling up inside me, but I bite my tongue. I won't make him see how much his words hurt. Not after last night.

"What rules?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I'm afraid of what he's going to say, but I need to hear it. I need to know just how deep this nightmare is.

Max leans forward, placing his glass on the table between us, he furrowed his brows at me. "First rule, You will never question me. I am your husband and your Lord, and you will do as you are told. No arguments, no resistance."

I clench my hands together in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. The idea of obeying him, of submitting to him after everything he's done, makes me want to scream at him. But I say nothing. I'm too afraid of what might happen if I push him too far.

"Second rule," he continues, his tone sharp and icy, "you will not speak to anyone about what happens between us. Not your friends, not the servants, not anyone. Our business is private, and it stays that way."

I feel the walls closing in around me, his words wrapping tighter and tighter making me chock. He's trapping me, cutting off any ways for me to escape. My throat tightens, but still, I remain silent.

"And third," Max's voice drops lower, his eyes darkening with something that makes my skin crawl, "you will act like the perfect wife in public. No one will suspect anything is wrong. You'll smile, you'll be gracious, and you'll fulfill your duties as Mrs. Maxmillian Graves. Do you understand?"

I feel the tears burning in the back of my eyes. I nod, my voice trapped in my throat.

"Good," he says, leaning back in his seat. His demeanor shifts slightly, as if the conversation is over and he's satisfied with my compliance.

My hands tremble in my lap, my nails digging into my palms to stop the tears from spilling over. He doesn't care. I shouldn't be surprised, but hearing him say it so bluntly makes my heart ache in a way I can't describe.

"And last night?" I ask, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. "Is that part of the rules too?"

For a moment, something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone before I can even understand what it was. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his expression hard and cold as he glared dangerously at me. "Last night was a mistake. I drank too much, and you were there. It's not my fault if you can't handle what happens when you can't mind your business and decided to provoke me."

My mouth falls open in shock. "Provoke you? I didn't...."

"You didn't what?" he snaps, cutting me off. "You didn't want this marriage? Neither did I, Eva! But here we are, stuck in this mess because your family needs a contract and want power, my grandfather forced my hand. You think you're the only one suffering? You're not special."

I feel the heat rising in my face, my pulse quickening with anger. How can he sit there and blame me for what he did? How can he pretend like last night was just some accident, some consequences of the situation we've both been forced into?

I didn't want this marriage as much as he didn't want it, I never planned to be he the same space with a jerk like him.

"I didn't ask for this either," I say, my voice shaking with anger and frustration. "But that doesn't give you the right to....."

"To what?" His voice grows colder. "To treat you like the pathetic little girl you are? To take what's mine? You're my wife now, Eva. Whether you like it or not, that means you belong to me. Your body, your mind, your life... it's all mine. I only took what was mine Eva..."

I gasp, I felt my blood boiling, how dare he say such a thing to me instead of apologizing for his wrongs, I decided to give him a piece of my mind. "I'm not your possession, Max. I'm a person. I have feelings, and what you did to me..."

"It's nothing," he says, cutting me off again. "You're blowing this out of proportion. You're acting like a victim when all I did was remind you of your place. You were born to be someone's wife, someone's tool. That's the life you chose by staying quiet all these years, doing whatever your father and stepmother told you to."

My body shakes with fury, tears stinging my eyes as I fight to keep them at bay. "You don't know anything about me. You don't know what I've been through."

"And I don't care," Max replies, his voice as cold as ever. "You're here now, and you'll follow my rules. If you step out of line, if you defy me in any way, I'll make sure your life is even more miserable than it already is. Do you understand?"

I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I want to scream at him, to tell him how much I hate him, how much I despise this marriage, this life. But I don't. I can't. Because I know that no matter what I say, it won't change anything. Max has already decided who I am in his mind a possession, a tool, something to be used and discarded.

"I understand," I whisper, my voice breaking.

Max nods, satisfied with my response, and leans back in his chair. "Good. Now get out of my sight. I don't want to see you until dinner."

I rise from the chair, my legs unsteady beneath me as I turn and walk toward the door. My body aches with every step, but the pain in my heart is worse. As I reach for the door I open the door and leave the room without glancing back.