Chapter 2 A Wife's Duty

Chapter 2

The silence in the mansion was heavy - like fog pressing down on her skin. Aurora sat stiffly on the edge of the guestroom bed, her robe tied tightly around her. The soft hum of distant thunder rolled through the night, and the rain tapped gently on the windows like a warning.

It was her first night in this unfamiliar place. And yet... she wasn't alone.

Click.

Her breath caught.

The door creaked open, and Lucien walked in, not bothering to knock. His dark eyes swept over the room, then settled on her like a hawk on prey.

She rose quickly, heart thudding. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer.

He shut the door behind him slowly, and the sound of it clicking into place felt like a sentence being passed. His expression was unreadable - cold, distant... dangerous.

"You're my wife," he said simply, taking a step forward. "And tonight, you'll act like it."

Her blood ran cold.

"What?" she whispered, taking a step back.

Lucien closed the space between them in two long strides. He didn't touch her at first. He just looked at her - eyes trailing down her face, her body, with no warmth. She could smell his cologne - sharp, expensive, and suffocating.

"I don't want this," she said shakily. "This isn't what marriage is supposed to be."

His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You didn't marry for love. You married for survival. And now you're surviving."

Then his hand shot out and pinned her wrist to the wall.

She gasped, struggling, trying to twist away, but he was stronger. Too strong.

"Let me go!"

"You want to play the virtuous wife now?" His voice dropped, dangerously low. "Where was that when your father was begging to hand you over like a check?"

Her tears welled up.

His other hand tugged the knot on her robe. She held it tighter, but he yanked - rip - and the silk fell apart in his fist. Her nightgown was torn next, seams giving way with the sound of fabric crying. She stood half-exposed, trembling, humiliated, furious... ashamed.

And still, her body betrayed her.

He crushed his mouth to hers - fierce, claiming, filled with punishment. She resisted, hitting his chest with her fists, but he didn't stop. And then... she stopped fighting. Her body melted against his, tears slipping down her cheek as her lips moved with his, unwillingly, desperately.

They stumbled to the bed. Her nightgown had slipped completely off, his shirt unbuttoned and tossed aside. Her hair fanned out on the pillow, his body heavy against hers. The room smelled of cologne, rain, and heat.

The bed creaked with every movement, every push and pull. Thunder roared outside, and the sound of rain covered the sharp, breathless gasps and soft moans that filled the room. Her tears hadn't stopped, but her voice had. Somewhere in the chaos, shame melted into silence, pain into numbness.

And yet... it still hurt.

When it was over, Aurora lay on the bed, barely able to breathe. Her body was sore, her heart aching. Lucien's chest rose and fell beside her. He didn't hold her. He didn't speak.

But for some reason, he didn't leave either.

He stayed.

She drifted into a restless sleep next to him, with the sound of rain whispering cruel lullabies outside the window.

The Next Morning

The first thing Aurora noticed was the silence.

The rain had stopped. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warm but mocking.

She turned slowly, hand reaching out across the bed.

It was empty.

Lucien was gone.

No trace of him - not a note, not a word. Just his scent lingering on the pillow, and the ache he left behind, both in her body and her chest.

She sat up slowly, the sheets still tangled around her, clothes from last night still scattered across the floor like a battlefield. She looked around, hoping - foolishly - that maybe he'd be in the bathroom, maybe just stepped out.

But the door was ajar.

He had left.

And just like everything else he gave her - the kiss, the touch, the heat - he took it all back with him.

She wrapped the sheet tightly around her and stared at the door for a long time, her heart sinking with every second.

He wasn't coming back.

At least not for her.