Chapter 3 The Rules

I opened my mouth and closed it back, swallowing the painful lump in my throat, just like always-unable to speak in his presence.

"You can't speak? Cat got your tongue? C'mon! You answer me when I speak to you!" he bellowed, his voice low but heavy with intimidation.

He didn't have to shout. The tone alone made my entire body tense. There was something about the way he looked at me-icy, commanding, like I was a fly that disgusted him. I wondered bitterly if he'd have been this cold and cruel if he had married Cara instead.

"I-I-I was-" My voice trembled as I tried to find the right words.

"You were what!" he snapped, stepping closer.

"I wanted to look around," I almost exclaimed, bracing myself for a worse reaction.

"You are not to go snooping around," he growled. "Do not think that because I married you, you have the right to walk around as you like."

His voice was sharp like a knife, and his glare pierced through me like a bullet.

"Do you hear me?" he barked.

"Yes," I answered quickly, nodding. I was terrified he'd raise his hand-he looked like the kind of man who wouldn't hesitate to hit a woman if pushed too far.

He shoved his hand into his pocket, and I noticed the slight clench of his jaw. I could swear his eyes darkened, and for a second, my breath hitched. I didn't know why he was looking at me that way, but I could tell-it wasn't good.

I dropped my gaze, staring at the patterns on the wallpaper instead, desperate to be invisible.

"What are you waiting for? Get out!" he snapped again, his voice like a thunderclap that jolted my entire being.

I didn't hesitate. I turned and left the room, tears already forming. I let them fall. There was no point holding them in anymore. Everything about my life had turned upside down in just a week.

I curled up in the living room, watching a random opera show. I tried to focus, to escape the reality I was living in. I was so engrossed that I didn't hear the door open.

"Oh my! Someone's here," came a voice I didn't recognize.

I turned quickly and froze.

A stunning woman stood in the doorway, tall with straight, jet-black hair. She looked like a supermodel, effortlessly elegant and confident. And right behind her stood Richard-my husband-looking as cold and unreachable as ever.

He barely glanced at me, but the way he looked at me still made my chest squeeze. His usual murderous stare was in full force.

I looked down at myself-faded baggy t-shirt, tracksuit bottoms, hair in a messy bun. I looked like something out of a horror movie compared to the goddess standing beside him.

I got to my feet awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, though every nerve in my body screamed at me to run.

"Dani, this is my wife, April," he said calmly. Too calmly.

His voice was void of warmth, yet strangely formal. The way he said "wife" made it sound like an insult. But I still stretched out my hand.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

She took my hand hesitantly, as if touching me might infect her. Her eyes flicked over me-top to bottom-and then came the sly smile.

"So, you are the wife," she said, tone dripping with amusement. It was like she'd already heard stories-bad ones-about me.

"Go to the bedroom. We want to have a meeting here," Richard said, casually dismissing me like a maid.

I swallowed the lump in my throat again, biting back the sting of humiliation as I walked away. I could endure the insults and indifference, but being dismissed in front of another woman? That cut deep.

And what sort of "meeting" was he having with this woman anyway?

I paced around the bedroom, thoughts swirling in frustration. I hated how powerless I felt. Eventually, I decided to shower, hoping the cold water would wash away the ache in my chest.

Later, I must've fallen asleep waiting for him. I stirred when I felt a nudge and opened my eyes.

"I was-tired," I stammered, trying to explain, not knowing why I even bothered.

He scoffed loudly. "You were tired after that little stunt you pulled?" he asked sarcastically.

I blinked in confusion. "What-what are you talking about?"

His jaw clenched tighter. "I was very disappointed with you. You have to play the trophy wife!" he snapped.

It hit me then-he was talking about the way I looked in front of the other woman.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask why he even brought her into our home, why he allowed her to sneer at me in our living room. But instead, I just lowered my head.

I bit my lower lip, trying to stop the tears again. I hated crying in front of him, but he always managed to push me there.

"I-" I began, not knowing what I even wanted to say.

"You what?" His voice rose sharply again, making me flinch.

He stepped closer and suddenly reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

My breath hitched. This was the closest we had ever been, and it made my whole body freeze. He leaned toward my neck, and every part of me was trembling-unsure what to expect.

Then his cold whisper sent chills down my spine.

"I hate you, April. And I hate that I had to marry you."

He pulled away, leaving behind a silence that screamed louder than his voice.

"What we have isn't real," he continued. "Hell, we only got married because our families had an arrangement. And I wouldn't even be marrying you if not for the circumstances."

He said "you" like it was venom, and I felt it pierce through my skin.

"Your parents couldn't risk tainting their image. That was why they allowed the marriage to go on-this time with the useless daughter. What do you have? Hmm? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! No property in your name, no inheritance, just a bloody waste of space!"

Each word was like a slap, more brutal than the last.

"I was promised the heir to the Harrington fortune. But what did I get? A stupid, useless crybaby," he spat, his face twisted in disgust.

So this was the real reason he hated me. Because I wasn't Cara. Because I wasn't the golden daughter with power.

"I know women like you. With your fake crocodile tears. I don't know why you agreed to this marriage or what you hoped to gain from it. But I'm telling you now-you will fail."

Tears streamed down my face now, uncontrollable. I was tired of holding it all in.

"I have a few rules for you," he continued coldly. "First-you will not sleep in the same bed as me. I find you unworthy of that. You aren't even my type of woman."

His words dug deeper than a knife.

"You will mind your business and not try to invade my privacy. You will avoid me as much as possible. I don't ever want to see your ugly face. When you see me, move the other way."

I said nothing. I just listened. What more could I say?

"If the need arises for us to appear in public together, you will act like the perfect wife. But don't overdo it. And don't even try to be friendly with anyone I talk to."

He stopped, glaring at me. "I believe you understand all that?"

My mouth was dry, hanging open, stunned by all I had heard. I slowly nodded.

"Y-yes," I finally stuttered.

I had no issue following his rules. They were easy. I didn't want to get close to him anyway.

He sneered again. "I have work to do-unlike some people whose only work is to eat, cry, watch TV, and sleep again. Do you ever do anything else?"

I swallowed hard, staying silent.

He turned and stormed out of the room.

I stared at the door as it shut behind him. I wished, more than anything, that I had the courage to shout back...

To tell him...

I didn't want this marriage either.