Married For the Show

RAINA

My husband loves them small.

The smaller you are, the bigger his desire.

I knew this because he'd told me several times in the two-month courtship we had.

I'm petite myself, just five feet two inches, so I thought he meant me. How stupid I was.

We've been married for a month and immediately after our wedding, that very day, he left for a business trip. No honeymoon. No wedding night. Just a kiss on my forehead and a promise to make me happy when he returned.

Tonight, he was coming back home.

And I couldn't wait.

I'd had my bath, waxed my legs and perfumed my skin. We had not yet consummated our wedding and as he'd promised, he was going to make me happy on his return. My heart was racing with excitement and nerves.

I was now brushing my hair, applying the crimson shade lipstick and adjusting my red lingerie over my body. I'd bought it specially for tonight. The silk felt cool against my skin, and I kept checking myself in the mirror. Everything had to be perfect.

I couldn't wait to spend my first real night with my loving husband after our wedding.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The staff usually bustled around at this time, preparing dinner, cleaning, maintaining the massive mansion that was now my home. But tonight, silence.

I'd just stepped out of my bedroom into the passageway when I heard a gurgling sound.

I tilted my head, curious as to what was going on. The sound was coming from down the hall, from the direction of Castor's library.

Where were all the staff of the house, and why did it sound like something was choking to death?

My bare feet made no sound on the thick carpet as I walked down the hallway. The choking sound got louder. Maybe someone was sick? Maybe they needed help?

I tiptoed towards his office. As I got closer, the choking got louder, mixed with other sounds I couldn't identify.

The door was open. Wide open.

That's when I saw it.

A devastating scene that shattered my world into a million pieces.

My loving husband, who I hadn't seen for a whole month, was sitting majestically in his office chair. But he wasn't alone. Teddy, our house help, our 18-year-old manservant, was on his knees between Castor's legs, choking on his dick.

My chest tightened and my throat closed up.

Was this a dream?

Because I better wake up now!

My blood ran cold, and I had to dig my nails into my palm to wake up from the shock. The pain was sharp, real. This wasn't a dream.

Castor Rowland, my husband, was a politician. An assembly man for the state of Kansas. He was supposed to be an angel who'd walked into my life two months ago when my family was practically drowning in debt and offered to save us.

He was supposed to be a knight in shining armor who had proposed to me, professing his love for me and his desire to take care of me.

Touched by his kindness, I'd agreed to marry him quickly.

Castor had bought over and revived my mother's restaurant that was being taken away due to debt. He'd given us hope again.

He paid off my younger brother's tuition fees and settled our house mortgage. He'd done it all out of the kindness of his heart. Or so I thought. And when he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me, I'd instantly agreed, falling for his kindness and generosity.

Now, I couldn't believe my eyes.

Teddy, our tiny house help, who was almost the same size as me, was on his hands and knees while my husband, the one who had not once touched me in our month of marriage, was holding Teddy's head down as he moved his hips.

Shock was a serious understatement.

I was horrified. Destroyed. Everything I thought I knew was a lie.

"Castor..." I managed to call his name, hurt and disbelief making it hard for me to breathe. Tears were already streaming down my face, ruining the makeup I'd so carefully applied.

His head jerked up and he saw me in the doorway. But there was no shame in his eyes. No guilt. Nothing.

"Raina," he said, his body completely unashamed.

That's when something even more shocking happened. Teddy pulled back, gasping for air, and looked up at my husband with familiar eyes. Too familiar.

"Honey, can you tell her to excuse us?" Teddy said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Honey?

HONEY?

I was more than shocked now. I was drowning in disbelief.

"Give us a minute, Raina. I'll come to you when I'm done," Castor said coldly, like I was a servant who'd interrupted his meal.

My eyes widened. The tears kept falling.

It was no more Baby or Sweetheart like he'd called me during our courtship. It was now just Raina. He was addressing me like I was some stranger interrupting his good time.

"What's going on?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "What is this? Who are you?"

Castor sighed like I was being dramatic. He pulled Teddy up and let him sit on his lap, like a lapdog. Teddy curled into him, and my husband's arms went around the boy's waist. Possessive. Comfortable. Like they'd done this a thousand times.

"Teddy is my boy toy," Castor said simply. "One of the few things I use to satisfy myself. You shouldn't worry about it."

"Boy toy?" My voice cracked. "You're... you're into men? Into boys?"

"Young men," he corrected, like that made it better. "And yes. I thought that was obvious."

"Obvious? You married me! You said you loved me!"

He laughed. The sound was cruel and cold. "Love? Oh, Raina. You're even more naive than I thought."

I felt my legs shaking. "I didn't agree to this. I didn't agree to any of this when I married you!"

"You didn't need to agree," he said, running his hand through Teddy's hair while the boy smiled at me smugly. "Once your family took my money, that was consent enough. You're only compensation for all the money I spent."

The words hit me like physical blows. Compensation. That's all I was.

"I want a divorce," I whispered, then stronger, "I want a divorce!"

His face changed then. The lazy satisfaction disappeared, replaced by something dangerous. He stood up so fast that Teddy had to scramble off his lap.

"Divorce?" He walked toward me, and I backed up until I hit the wall. "Let me make something very clear, Raina. If you leave, I'll take your mother's restaurant. I'll collect the house and demand a refund for your brother's tuition. I'll destroy your family so completely they'll be begging on the streets."

"You can't do that!"

"Can't I? I have receipts for everything. Contracts. Your mother signed papers. So did you." He was so close now I could smell Teddy on him. It made me sick. "You will stay married to me for five years. You will let me win my election. You will smile and wave and be the perfect wife. After that, I'll let you go."

I was confused, broken, drowning in betrayal.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely working. "Why did you marry me if you didn't love me? If you didn't even want me?"

He laughed again, stepping back. "I married you to clean up my mess and portray me as the perfect family man to the public. Traditional values. A sweet little wife. You're my prop, Raina. Nothing more. A very expensive prop, but a prop nonetheless."

My eyes widened as the truth crashed over me like a wave.

My marriage was fake.

It was all for show.

RAINA.

I stood frozen against the wall for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. Teddy had returned to Castor's side, his hand resting on my husband's shoulder with disgusting familiarity.

"Now," Castor said, checking his watch like nothing had happened, "we have the Cameron Foundation event tonight. Red carpet at eight. You need to get ready."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, finding my voice.

His eyes narrowed. "Yes, you are. And you're going to smile and tell everyone how happy you are. How blessed you feel to be married to me. Do you understand?"

"No."

He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. It was my mother's restaurant, thriving, full of customers. Then he swiped to another photo. Documents. Legal documents.

"One phone call, Raina. One phone call and I foreclose on everything. Your mother will lose her life's work. Your brother will pulled out of college. Your family will be homeless by morning."

I felt trapped. Like the walls were closing in on me.

"I hate you," I whispered.

"I don't care. Be ready in an hour. Wear the blue dress I bought you. The one with the diamonds." He turned back to Teddy. "We'll finish this later, baby."

I ran from the room, my red lingerie feeling like it was burning my skin. I could hear Teddy laughing behind me. The sound followed me all the way to my room.

I ripped off the lingerie and threw it in the trash. Then I sat on my bed and cried. Deep, body-shaking sobs that hurt my chest. Everything was a lie. Every sweet word, every promise, every kiss on my forehead. All of it was fake.

But I didn't have time to fall apart. Not yet.

I forced myself to shower again, washing off the perfume I'd applied for him. I did my makeup with shaking hands, covering the red around my eyes. Then I put on the blue dress he'd demanded. It was beautiful and expensive, and I hated it.

When I came downstairs, Castor was waiting in a perfect tuxedo. He looked handsome, successful, like the perfect husband. Nobody would ever guess what I'd just seen him doing.

"Beautiful," he said but the word was empty. "Remember, Raina. You're happy. You're in love. You're grateful."

The car ride was silent. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past. My chest felt hollow, like someone had reached in and pulled out my heart.

When we arrived at the event, hundreds of photographers were waiting. The flashes were blinding.

"Smile," Castor whispered, his hand tight on my waist.

I smiled. It felt like my face might crack.

"Castor! Raina! Over here!"

We posed. His arm around me. My hand on his chest. The perfect couple.

"You look stunning tonight, Mrs. Rowland!" a reporter called out.

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice somehow steady.

"How's married life treating you?"

Castor squeezed my waist, a warning.

"It's wonderful," I lied. "Every day is like a dream come true."

"You're such a beautiful couple! Castor, how did you get so lucky?"

My husband laughed, warm and charming for the cameras. "I ask myself that every day. Raina is my angel. My salvation. I don't know what I'd do without her."

I wanted to scream. To tell them all the truth. But I thought of my mother, my brother, and kept smiling.

Inside the venue, it was worse. We sat at the head table, accepting congratulations from everyone. Judges, businessmen, other politicians. They all wanted to shake Castor's hand and tell me how lucky I was.

"Your husband is going to be governor someday," an older woman told me. "You must be so proud."

"So proud," I repeated numbly.

Castor gave a speech about family values. About the importance of traditional marriage. About how his sweet wife had made him a better man. Everyone applauded. Some people even had tears in their eyes.

I sat there dying inside, clapping along with everyone else.

During desert, a young reporter approached our table with a camera crew.

Mr. and Mrs. Rowland, could we have a quick interview for Channel 6?"

"Of course," Castor said, pulling me closer.

The camera light was bright in my face.

"Mrs. Rowland, your husband is running on a platform of family values. What's that like for you as his wife?"

I could feel Castor's hand tightening on my shoulder.

"It's amazing," I said, the words like ash in my mouth. "Castor truly believes in the sanctity of marriage and the importance of family. He shows me every day what a devoted husband looks like."

"And would you encourage people to vote for him?"

"Absolutely. He's honest, caring, and dedicated. These state needs more men like my husband."

"You two seem so in love. What's your secret?"

"Castor answered this time. "No secrets. Just complete honesty and trust. Right, darling?"

"Right," I agreed, wanting to die.

The interview felt like it lasted forever, but it was probably only five minutes. Five minutes of lies upon lies.

As soon as the camera was off, I excused myself to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the scream that wanted to escape.

When I returned to the table, Castor was on his phone.

"Yes, get them ready," he was saying in hushed whispers, but loud enough for me to hear. "The blue pills, yes. Make sure they're nice and wild before I get there. I'll be done here in an hour."

He hung up and looked at me. "The driver will take you home. Don't wait up."

"You're leaving? To go to...them?"

"Business meeting," he said with a cruel smile. "Very important business."

He stood up, kissed my cheek for the benefit of anyone watching, and whispered in my ear, "Remember, five years. Play your part."

Then he was gone, glad-handing his way through the crowd, leaving me alone at a table full of strangers who thought I had the perfect life.

RAINA.

The car ride home was when I finally broke completely.

The moment the door shut and we pulled away from the venue, the tears began to fall. Not gentle tears, but huge, gasping sobs that shook my whole body.

"Mrs. Rowland?" the driver said softly. "Are you alright?"

I looked up and met his eyes in the rearview mirror. Samuel. He'd been driving Castor for years.

"You knew," I said between sobs. "You knew what he was."

Samuel's face was full of pity. "Mrs. Rowland..."

"Did everyone know except me? Did all the staff know that my husband preferred boys? That our marriage was fake?"

He pulled over to the side of the road and turned around to face me.

"We suspected," he said gently. "But we hoped... we hoped maybe you could change him."

I laughed bitterly. "Change him? He doesn't even want me. I'm just a prop. A decoration for his political career."

"I'm sorry," Samuel said. "You seem like a nice lady. You don't deserve this."

"My family needed help," I said, wiping my face with my hands. "I thought he was saving us out of kindness. But he bought me. Like you'd buy a painting to hang on your wall."

Samuel was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "Where would you like me to take you? Home?"

Home. That massive, cold house full of lies.

"No," I said. "Take me to a bar. Any bar. I need a drink."

"Mrs. Rowland, I don't think..."

"Please, Samuel. Just one hour. I need one hour where I don't have to pretend."

He nodded slowly and drove to a small bar on the other side of town. Not the kind of place where political wives went. Perfect.

"Should I wait?" he asked.

"No. I'll call a taxi."

"Mrs. Rowland... be careful."

I nodded and went inside.

The bar was dark and smoky. Nobody looked at me twice despite my expensive dress. I found a corner booth and ordered whiskey. I didn't even like whiskey, but it seemed like what you drank when your life was falling apart.

The burn felt good going down. Better than the ache in my chest.

I was on my third glass when someone slid into the booth across from me.

"Rough night?"

I looked up, ready to snap, then I froze.

Sylvester Brian.

Castor's biggest political rival. The man running against him for the assembly seat.

The man he despised more than anyone.

I'd only seen him from afar before. On screens, across crowded rooms, in carefully staged debates.

Up close he was different.

He was handsome.

Devastatingly handsome. Taller than Castor, broader, with dark hair and grey eyes that seemed to strip away every pretense. Where Castor was polished and fake, Sylvester felt like raw masculinity. Dangerous. Real.

My pulse quickened despite myself.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my words slightly slurred.

"I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you be at home, waiting for your loving husband?"

"Don't," I warned. "Just don't."

He studied me for a long moment, and something shifted in his expression. I saw a flicker of heat in those grey eyes.

"You looked perfect tonight," he said quietly. "Smiling, calm, graceful. Nobody watching would guess the truth."

"What truth?" I tried to sound casual, but failed.

"The truth about your marriage. That you are secretly dying inside."

A shiver ran through me. "You don't know anything about me."

"But I do." His voice stayed low, almost intimate. "I know your marriage is a performance. I know who your husband really desires. I know you're trapped."

My eyes widened. "How do you..."

"I make it my business to know everything about my opponents."

He raised a hand and signaled the bartender without looking away from me.

"Water and coffee for the lady, please."

"I don't want coffee."

"You need it," he said. He did not look away, not even for a second. His gaze pinned me to the seat.

There was a dark intensity there. Not the kind that made my skin crawl. A different kind that sent shivers down my spine.

"You have been crying," he noted.

"So?" I asked, defensive and tired.

Then the drinks arrived.

He nudged the coffee toward me with one finger, then settled back, but his attention never left my face.

"So the question is," he continued, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Do?" I repeated, then laughed. But it sounded ugly. "There's nothing to do. I'm stuck for five years. If I leave, he destroys my family."

"Five years," Sylvester repeated, as if tasting the number. "Just long enough for him to win this election and the next one? Build his base for a governor run?"

I didn't answer, but my face must have given it away.

His jaw tightened and I saw his lips thin around the edges.

"You could fight back," he suggested.

"How? He has all the power. The money. The connections."

"He also has secrets." Sylvester leaned forward. My breath caught.

This close, I could really smell him. A clean scent of Cedar wood and birch. Warm and rich. It filled the space between us, intoxicating me in a way I did not expect. My head felt lighter, my skin growing warm.

"He has secrets that could end his entire career," Syvelster said.

My eyes traveled over his face while he spoke. It was easier than meeting his gaze. He was immaculately dressed in a black suit. Clean-shaven. Strong square jaw. Wide, firm lips and eyes...eyes so grey they matched the whiskey in my glass.

My cheeks burned. I told myself it was the alcohol.

Cos...why else was I finding him attractive?

He was my husband's rival. The man Castor cursed constantly over breakfast. The man I had been told to dislike on sight. I was not supposed to feel this strange pull toward him.

I tried to ignore the fluttering that had started to build in my belly.

"Nobody would believe me," I managed to say. "I'm just the bitter wife."

"They'd believe evidence," he said. "Documents. Recordings. Photographs."

I stared at him. "You're suggesting I spy on my own husband?"

"I'm suggesting you stop being his victim." He pushed the coffee closer to my hands, his voice firm. "Drink this."

I swallowed hard. His voice wasn't just persuasive, it was grounding. Pulling me in, steadying me, and making me feel seen.

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug.

"Why do you care?" I asked. "What's in it for you?"

"Besides taking down my political rival?" He leaned back a little, but his gaze stayed on me. "Let's just say I don't like men who hurt innocent people. Who use their power to trap and abuse others."

"You don't even know me."

"I know enough," he said. "I know you were a kindergarten teacher before you married him."

My fingers tightened around the mug. He kept going.

"I know your family was drowning in debt after your father died. Medical bills. Loans. There was no way out."

Heat rose in my throat. Shame. Anger. The past I tried not to think about.

"I know Castor targeted you specifically because of that," Syvelster continued. "Because you were vulnerable, desperate. Easy to corner."

"You've been investigating me?"

"I've been investigating him. You were just part of the research." He paused, his eyes lingering over me for long moments. "But what I found made me angry. You don't deserve this."

The coffee was starting to clear my head. The room felt a little more stable. The ache in my chest was still there, but it was less blurry now.

"Even if I wanted to fight back," I said quietly, "I don't know how."

"I could teach you."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because Castor Rowland needs to be stopped," he said. "He's hurt too many people. And because..."

He hesitated. His gaze dropped for a heartbeat, then came back to mine.

"Because when I saw you tonight," he said, "smiling for the cameras while you were dying inside, it reminded me of someone I used to know. Someone I couldn't save."

"Who?"

"My sister," he said. "Different situation, same kind of trap."

His jaw tightened and a muscle jumped near his temple. "She didn't make it out."

Silence settled between us. Heavy and quiet.

I stared at the coffee. At the swirl of dark liquid in the cup.

"I can't risk my family," I said at last. "Castor might hurt them if I do anything."

"What if I could protect them? Get them somewhere safe before we move against him?"

"We?" I looked at him sharply. "There is no we."

"There could be." He pulled out a business card and slid it across the table, his fingers brushed mine briefly and it tingled.

"Think about it," his eyes held mine, "Call me when you're ready to stop being his prop and start fighting for your freedom."

He stood to leave.

"Sylvester," I called after him. He turned back. "That person you couldn't save. Your sister. What happened to her?"

His expression darkened, but his voice stayed soft. "She killed herself to escape her pain. I couldn't save her." His gaze held mine. "Don't make the same choice, Raina. Fight back."

Then he was gone, his presence still lingering in the air as I stared down at the business card like it was a lifeline I was terrified to reach for.

But also... unable to look away from.