The Idiot Bride And Her Crippled Tyrant

The custom crystal perfume bottle shattered against the mahogany door frame.

Shards of glass exploded across the Persian rug. The heavy scent of crushed roses and pure alcohol flooded the second-floor bedroom of the Long Island estate.

"I am not marrying a cripple!" Cora screamed. Her voice tore through the room, raw and shrill.

Mavis rushed through the doorway, her high heels crunching on broken glass. She reached out, her fingers digging into Cora's bare arms.

Cora shoved her mother backward with brutal force. Mavis stumbled, her back hitting the edge of the vanity with a dull thud.

Cora snatched a plastic bottle of sleeping pills from the nightstand. She clawed at the childproof cap, her fresh acrylic nails slipping uselessly against the stubborn plastic ridges. Her face twisted with rage. She hurled the sealed bottle against the wall, watching it bounce harmlessly off the wallpaper. "I'll find a way to end it! I swear I will!" she shrieked, her chest heaving with dramatic sobs. "I am not spending the rest of my life pushing a wheelchair for a man whose dick doesn't even work!"

Out in the wide hallway, Howard paced. The thick soles of his Italian leather shoes thudded against the hardwood floor. He was a heavy, broad-shouldered man with a florid face and thinning hair slicked back with too much pomade. He bit down hard on the end of his unlit cigar.

His phone vibrated in his palm. Another voicemail from a Wall Street creditor. The notification flashed red.

Hearing his daughter's hysterical screech, Howard snapped. He kicked the half-open bedroom door. It slammed against the wall, the hinges groaning.

"You will marry him!" Howard roared. The veins in his neck bulged against his tight collar. "You will put on that white dress, and you will save this family's cash flow!"

Cora flinched. Her knees gave out. She collapsed onto the thick carpet, her chest heaving. Black mascara ran down her cheeks, streaking through her flawless foundation. The pill bottle rolled across the floor and stopped at Howard's shoes.

Mavis dropped to her knees. She was lean and sharp-featured, with cold blue eyes and a perpetual expression of calculation. She wrapped her arms around Cora's shaking shoulders and snapped her head up, glaring at her husband. "There has to be another way, Howard. You can't feed her to that monster."

Howard yanked at his silk tie, loosening it violently. "The Branch family specifically asked for a Battle daughter. If we break this contract, the bank seizes this house by Friday. We are dead."

Mavis's eyes darted toward the window. Her breathing slowed. She lowered her voice. "They asked for a Battle daughter. They didn't specify which one."

Howard stopped pacing. He stared at his wife.

"Areli," Mavis whispered.

"The bastard?" Howard's brow furrowed deep. "She's been rotting on that farm in Pennsylvania for ten years. The car crash scrambled her brain. She can't even string a sentence together. Finn Branch is a violent psychopath. A retard will insult him."

Mavis let out a short, cold laugh. "Finn Branch is a paralyzed cripple. The Branch family just needs a warm body to stand next to his wheelchair for the cameras. A brain-damaged mute is better. She won't complain. She won't fight back. She's a perfect puppet."

Cora stopped crying. She wiped the black streaks from under her eyes with the back of her hand and scrambled up from the floor, her silk robe clinging to her legs. "Mom is right. Send the idiot. She only deserves my garbage anyway."

Howard's phone vibrated again. A text message from the bank. Final Notice.

Howard pulled the cigar from his mouth and pressed the unlit end hard into the crystal ashtray on the dresser until the tobacco leaves snapped.

"Fine," he gritted out. "Get her."

He turned on his heel and marched out of the room. "Get the car ready!" he shouted down the sweeping staircase to the butler. "I'm going to Pennsylvania."

Cora watched her father's broad back disappear down the hall. She kicked a large shard of glass out of her way, walked to her vanity mirror, and picked up a makeup wipe.

Mavis stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. She stepped behind Cora, her eyes hard in the mirror's reflection. "Not a word of this to anyone. As far as the press is concerned, Areli is the legitimate, beloved daughter of this house. Understood?"

Five hours later, the black Maybach exited the smooth asphalt of the interstate and hit the dirt roads of rural Pennsylvania.

The heavy car bounced violently. The undercarriage scraped against sharp rocks with a metallic shriek.

The driver slammed his foot on the brake. Sweat dripped down his temples. "Mr. Battle, the suspension can't take this. The road is completely washed out ahead."

Howard shoved the heavy car door open. His two-thousand-dollar leather shoe sank instantly into a deep, wet puddle of mud mixed with fresh cow manure.

The stench hit the back of his throat. He gagged, pressing a silk handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

He dragged his feet through the thick sludge toward the rotting wooden cabin at the end of the path. The roof sagged. The porch steps were splintered.

By the broken wire fence, a girl in a faded, torn floral dress crouched in the dirt. Her back was to him.

Howard stopped. He cleared his throat, loud and irritated.

The girl turned her head slowly.

Two thick streaks of black mud were smeared across her cheeks. Her dark hair was matted and tangled. Her eyes were wide, vacant, and completely out of focus.

Her dirty fingers were wrapped tight around a large, grey toad. The toad kicked its legs, trying to escape.

The girl looked at Howard. She opened her mouth and let out a loud, hollow giggle. Saliva pooled at the corner of her lips.

Howard's stomach contracted violently. He took a fast step back, his heel slipping in the manure. He barely caught his balance.

The girl dropped the toad. It plopped into the mud and hopped away. She stood up, her shoulders slouched. She tilted her head to the side, her mouth hanging open.

"Da-da?" she slurred, the word thick and clumsy on her tongue.

Howard stared at the filthy, feral creature standing in front of him. He saw the empty eyes. He saw the drool.

She was exactly as he remembered. A harmless, useless idiot.

A cold, calculating smile stretched across Howard's face.

Howard swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He forced the corners of his mouth up into a stiff, unnatural smile. He stepped closer to Areli, ignoring the mud soaking through his socks.

Areli shrank back. Her shoulders hunched up to her ears. She hid her mud-caked hands behind her back, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

Howard softened his voice, making it high and slow. "Areli. I'm taking you home. Back to New York. To a big house. We have candy there. So much candy. You can eat it every day."

At the word 'candy', Areli's vacant eyes widened. A spark of manic excitement lit up her face. She pulled her hands from behind her back and started clapping loudly. She jumped up and down in the mud.

Thick droplets of dirty water splashed up, hitting Howard's tailored trousers.

Howard's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. His fingers twitched. He forced his hands into his pockets. "Go get your things. Now."

Areli cheered. She spun around and sprinted toward the rotting cabin. She pushed the wooden door. It screamed on rusted hinges and slammed shut behind her.

The moment the door clicked into the frame, the idiot smile vanished from Areli's face.

The manic energy drained from her muscles. Her spine straightened. Her eyes sharpened into a cold, lethal glare.

She walked to the cracked ceramic washbasin in the corner. She turned the rusted knob. Brown water sputtered out. She scrubbed the mud from her hands and face with quick, efficient movements.

She walked to the sagging mattress on the floor. She knelt, her fingers digging into a tear in the fabric underneath the frame.

She pulled out a small, sleek, high-tech communication device. It was no bigger than a coin, matte black and completely out of place in the squalor.

Areli unbuttoned the top of her dress and slipped the device into the hidden lining of her bra, pressing it flat against her ribs.

She grabbed a frayed plastic woven sack from the corner. She shoved three faded, oversized shirts into it.

Before opening the door, Areli let her shoulders drop. She took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the icy sharpness in her gaze dissolve into a dull, cloudy haze. The lethal precision in her posture vanished as she forced her spine to curve.

She walked out of the cabin, clutching the plastic sack to her chest, the vacant smile back on her face.

Howard stared at the filthy bag. He waved his hand at his driver. "Put that trash in the trunk."

The driver stepped forward, his face pale. He wore white cotton gloves. He reached out with two fingers, pinching the top of the bag as if it were a biohazard.

Areli yanked the bag back. She hugged it tight against her chest and opened her mouth, letting out a piercing, ear-splitting wail.

"No! My rocks! My pretty rocks are inside!" she sobbed, stomping her foot in the mud.

Howard rubbed his temples. A sharp headache pulsed behind his eyes. "Just let her keep it. Get her in the car."

The driver opened the heavy rear door of the Maybach. Howard grabbed Areli's arm and shoved her roughly onto the plush leather seat.

Howard climbed in after her, sliding as far to the opposite side of the cabin as physically possible.

Areli's muddy shoes smeared across the pristine cream-colored floor mats. The damp, sour smell of the farm instantly filled the enclosed space.

The car shifted into gear and pulled away from the cabin.

Areli pressed her face against the tinted window. She waved frantically at a rotting scarecrow in the field, giggling to herself.

Howard pressed a button on the armrest. The soundproof partition glided up, sealing them off from the driver.

Howard looked at Areli, his voice dripping with condescension. "Listen to me. You are going to be a good girl. In a few days, you are going to marry a very rich man."

Areli slowly turned her head. She tilted it to the side and stuck her dirty thumb into her mouth. She chewed on her fingernail. "Rich man? Will he buy me a hundred ice creams?" she mumbled around her thumb.

Howard scoffed. "If you keep your mouth shut and do what you're told, he can buy you the whole damn ice cream factory."

Areli squealed. She threw herself sideways, rolling across the wide leather seat. Her muddy dress left dark, wet streaks across the expensive upholstery.

Howard squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head back against the headrest, exhausted by her stupidity. He didn't want to look at her for another second.

The car hummed steadily along the highway.

Once Howard's breathing deepened into a soft snore, Areli stopped rolling.

She sat up slowly. She slid back into her corner of the seat.

She turned her head toward the window. The trees blurred past in a rush of green and brown. Her pupils focused sharply on her own reflection in the glass.

She reached up, pretending to scratch her collarbone. Her fingers brushed against the hard edge of the comms device hidden in her bra. A tiny vibration confirmed it was active.

She stared out the window. Her pulse beat steady and calm in her throat.

She wasn't just going back to New York to find out who cut the brake lines on her mother's car ten years ago. She was going back to tear the Battle family down to the studs.

And Finn Branch-the violent, paralyzed billionaire they were selling her to-was going to be her perfect shield.

The cabin was dead silent, save for Howard's snoring.

In the rearview mirror, Areli's face was half-swallowed by shadows. The corner of her mouth pulled up into a slow, terrifying smirk.

The Maybach's tires crunched over pristine white gravel, pulling through the heavy wrought-iron gates of the Battle estate on Long Island. The car glided to a stop in front of a massive marble fountain.

The driver hurried out and pulled Areli's door open.

Areli immediately widened her eyes. She let her jaw drop open, staring at the towering stone columns of the mansion. She let out a loud, exaggerated gasp.

She scrambled out of the car, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Her worn-out sneakers, caked in dried Pennsylvania mud, slammed down hard onto the spotless marble steps.

Howard stepped out, his face dark with irritation. "Keep up," he snapped. "And don't touch anything."

Inside the grand living room, the air smelled of expensive vanilla diffusers. Cora sat on the center of the white velvet sofa, wearing a custom silk slip dress. She held a crystal nail file, carefully shaping her manicure. Mavis sat in the armchair opposite her, sipping Earl Grey tea from a bone china cup.

Areli burst through the double doors like a cannonball.

She sprinted straight into the center of the room. Her muddy shoes stamped a trail of dark, filthy footprints directly across the pure white Persian rug.

Cora shrieked. She dropped her nail file and sprang up from the sofa as if the cushions had caught fire. She backed away, covering her nose with her manicured hand. "What is that smell? Get that filthy beggar out of here!"

Areli stopped dead in her tracks. She tilted her head, staring at Cora. A massive, goofy grin split her face. She threw her arms wide open and lunged toward Cora. "Sister!"

Cora's eyes widened in panic. She grabbed a bright orange Hermes throw pillow from the sofa and hurled it directly at Areli's head.

Areli let out a clumsy yelp. She ducked, her movements intentionally delayed. The heavy pillow grazed her shoulder and slammed into a crystal vase on the glass coffee table.

The vase shattered. Water and white lilies exploded across the floor.

"Enough!" Howard roared from the doorway. His voice echoed off the high ceilings. He pointed a shaking finger at Cora. "Watch yourself! Don't break her before the wedding!"

Mavis set her teacup down with a sharp clink. She forced her facial muscles to relax, pasting on a sickly-sweet maternal smile. She stood up, her hips swaying as she walked toward Areli.

Mavis reached out, forcing herself to grab Areli's dirty, sticky hand. "Look how much you've grown, sweetheart," Mavis cooed, her voice dripping with fake affection.

Areli immediately yanked her hand back. She wiped her palm aggressively on her dirty dress, acting as if Mavis's touch burned. She kept her eyes glued to the massive diamond ring sparkling on Mavis's finger, her mouth hanging open in feigned awe.

Disgust flashed in Mavis's eyes. She turned, pulled open a drawer in the coffee table, and dug out a cheap, plastic-wrapped lollipop left over from Halloween.

She peeled the plastic off and held the red candy out. "If you are a good girl, you can have treats like this every single day."

Areli snatched the lollipop. She shoved it into her mouth, sucking loudly. She let the sugary saliva pool and drip down her chin.

Cora watched from the corner, her stomach heaving. She dry-heaved, pressing a hand to her chest. "Just get it over with, Mom. I can't look at her."

Mavis clapped her hands twice. Two maids in black uniforms hurried into the room. They carried a heavy, outdated wedding dress covered in cheap lace. The bodice was clearly three sizes too big for Areli's slender frame.

Mavis pointed to the dress. "Tomorrow, you are going to meet a superhero. He is going to be your husband. This is your special dress."

Areli pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a loud pop. "Superhero?" she slurred. "Can he fly? Will he catch butterflies for me?"

Cora let out a cruel, barking laugh. "Fly? He can't even walk, you retard. He's a cripple stuck in a wheelchair."

Mavis shot Cora a lethal glare, cutting her off. She turned back to Areli, her fake smile straining.

Areli pretended not to understand the insult. She squealed, dropping the lollipop onto the floor. She ran toward the maids, spinning in circles around the ugly dress. "I'm going to be a fairy! A fairy!"

On her third spin, Areli intentionally let her right foot catch behind her left ankle.

She pitched forward, her body flying directly toward Cora.

Areli reached out to break her fall. Her hand, coated in sticky red syrup and thick saliva, clamped down hard onto the pristine silk hem of Cora's couture dress.

She left a massive, dark, sticky handprint right on the thigh.

Cora looked down. A blood-curdling scream ripped from her throat. She raised her hand, aiming a vicious slap right at Areli's face.

Mavis lunged forward, grabbing Cora's wrist mid-air. Her nails dug into Cora's skin.

"Think of the money," Mavis hissed through her teeth. "After tomorrow, this idiot is Finn Branch's problem. You will never have to see her again."

Areli cowered behind Mavis's legs. She lowered her head. Beneath the veil of her messy hair, her eyes were completely clear. A cold, mocking sneer touched her lips.

Mavis snapped her fingers at the butler. "Take her to the servant's quarters in the basement. Lock the door."