Unchained Heart: Breaking Free From My Possessive Husband

"Are you nervous?" The man's voice, husky and magnetic, drifted into Chelsey Howard's ears.

"Are you kidding me? Do you have any clue where we are?"

As Chelsey dodged, her body couldn't help but tremble, fingers gripping the sofa towel tightly.

The red flush on her cheeks only seemed to embolden the man further.

Footsteps shuffled outside the lounge; tonight was the Morris family's shindig, and the place was buzzing with activity.

Chelsey couldn't shake the fear of someone barging in at any moment.

She dared not utter a word, but the man seemed hell-bent on teasing her, almost coaxing a moan out of her.

In the glass reflection, his sharp features were etched, his eyes glinting with mischief as he observed Chelsey's startled expression.

"What got you so spooked?" He smirked, reveling in her reaction.

It wasn't until a voice greeted Kaden Morris nearby that he abruptly pinched Chelsey's waist, hastily concluding their escapade.

He withdrew, leaving Chelsey overwhelmed, collapsing onto the floor!

Luckily, there was a mirror nearby for last-minute adjustments; Chelsey gazed at her flushed face, clothes askew.

Standing behind her was Trevor Morris, elegantly dressed, exuding charm and sophistication.

Despite having an elder cousin, Trevor was the legitimate heir of the Morris family, a force to be reckoned with.

Trevor's gaze landed on the finger marks on Chelsey's waist. He tossed aside the handkerchief, lit a cigarette, and exhaled leisurely.

A faint glow emanated from the emerald ring on his left hand, cold and distant. The ring was rare and exquisite.

"I heard you've been looking at cars lately. Shall I get one for you?" Trevor offered.

"No need, I'll manage on my own." Chelsey put on her clothes, her fingers clenching with resolve as she avoided meeting his gaze in the mirror.

She knew Trevor was seething now; his attempts to rile her up had fallen flat, and her defiance only stoked the flames.

"Are you really planning to cut ties with me?" he asked.

Chelsey remained silent, her focus fixed on fastening her blouse, her knuckles turning white from the strain.

"Chelsey, you're something else," Trevor sneered, his gaze drifting away from her waist as he stubbed out the cigarette after a few puffs.

Still avoiding eye contact, Chelsey hastily retreated to the bathroom to tidy herself up.

As the lounge door creaked open and shut, she knew Trevor had left.

After a moment, when the flush had faded from her cheeks and no traces of their liaison remained, she emerged from the bathroom.

Entering the dining room, she found the guests already assembled.

Tonight's banquet held significance for the Morris family, their esteemed guests filling three grand round tables with animated chatter, but no one came up to talk to Chelsey.

Chelsey had no desire to engage with them either, preferring to keep her head down as she looked for her seat.

"Where have you been? I've been searching everywhere for you, and you wouldn't pick up your phone," her mother, Gabriella Morris, scolded, her grip firm on Chelsey's hand.

Chelsey discreetly pulled away, murmuring, "Didn't hear it, Mom!"

In truth, she had heard it, but Trevor's presence forbade any interruptions. Displeasing him would only invite further torment.

As Chelsey settled into her seat, a voice at the main table remarked, "Trevor, your sleeve is damp."

Trevor chuckled. "Yeah, it got wet a little earlier."

Chelsey couldn't shake the feeling that Trevor's gaze lingered on her after his comment.

Glancing up nervously, she noticed a small patch of moisture on Trevor's sleeve, barely discernible against the dark fabric.

She remembered how he had earlier grabbed her butt with the same hand, biting her ear and saying she was wet.

Chelsey's cheeks were burning again!

Trevor shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it casually over the back of his chair. Conversing with ease with those around him, he exuded an air of effortless charm, unchallenged in the Morris family hierarchy.

Well, Chelsey's was a different case altogether.

She had entered the Morris family through her mother's remarriage, Gabriella tying the knot with Trevor's uncle, Cary Morris.

So, in the Morris family, Chelsey was the odd one out; she was considered an outsider!

Gabriella wouldn't stop her constant chatter beside her.

"Kaden was already on edge, and here you are acting all reckless. Don't you realize today's a family gathering? Luckily, he has nothing against us."

Gabriella's remarriage had always set her apart, but things only got worse after Cary passed away, making them even more unwelcome among the Morris family.

Behind closed doors, the household staff whispered about Gabriella and Chelsey bringing bad luck to Cary.

So, Gabriella made it a point to strictly adhere to the Morris family's rules.

Chelsey had grown accustomed to it and paid little heed to her mother's complaints. In her mind, there was only one thing that mattered-Trevor's last significant words.

Her gaze occasionally wandered toward the table, where Trevor sat, bringing her back to that fateful night two years ago.

On the eve of her college graduation, she had gotten a little too tipsy with her classmates.

It was unlike her, considering she used to be a teetotaler. But fate had it that the Morris family was gearing up for marriage talks with Trevor.

Trevor, the man she had secretly admired for years, was unexpectedly at the same bar that night. Emboldened by alcohol, she approached him, asking him how she looked in his eyes.

Trevor gently freed himself from her grasp on his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. "What do you mean?"

Chelsey never imagined that she, the consistently compliant girl would act in such a disobedient manner. Trevor was, after all, her nominal cousin.

Chelsey, fueled by liquid courage, leaned in close, her words slurred. "To be yours, Trevor."

Trevor leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand, the smoke swirling around them. He looked at her with an enigmatic smile. "Are you brave enough?"

Without hesitation, Chelsey pecked his chin, boldly wrapping her arms around his neck. "Are you?" she challenged.

Trevor extinguished his cigarette without a word, his smile speaking volumes.

His eyes, with the play of light, appeared to be both an inferno capable of destroying everything and an incomprehensible chasm.

That night, she became Trevor's woman.

In the heat of the moment, Trevor whispered in her ear, "Remember what you said tonight, Chelsey."

But amidst the blur of alcohol-induced confessions, Chelsey couldn't recall which of her many declarations Trevor was referring to.

Afterwards, she couldn't shake the feeling of regret. Entangling herself with a man like Trevor was a dangerous game.

Their relationship had to remain clandestine, leaving Chelsey forever in the shadows, a secret lover.

She couldn't bear the thought of it.

But Trevor would eventually marry and have children. Rumor had it that Kaden Morris, his grandfather, had already picked out the perfect bride for him.

Trevor never acknowledged their relationship, silently accepting her as nothing more than a shameful secret. Chelsey couldn't dwell on it.

If their relationship was doomed to be unequal, she refused to play the part of the meek accomplice any longer.

So, last weekend, she mustered the courage to message Trevor, wanting to end their illicit affair.

But to this day, Trevor was yet to respond.

She went back to Morris Mansion in the evening and ran into him in the hallway. She bent her head to walk by him in the empty corridor, but he grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the lounge instead.

He seemed irritated by her by the look of it.

As the evening progressed, dishes were served one after the other, distracting Chelsey momentarily from her thoughts.

A wild salmon was brought in by a maid. All of the seafood for tonight came in from overseas. The smell of the salmon was irresistible.

Chelsey couldn't contain her discomfort. She grimaced involuntarily, unable to bear the smell. "Ugh..."

The Morris family abided by an ironclad set of rules, and navigating mealtime etiquette was akin to walking on eggshells. As dinner commenced, the lively banter dwindled into an uneasy silence.

Chelsey's voice stood out amidst the quiet.

A few disapproving glances were already darting her way.

Chelsey instinctively covered her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes as she nodded apologetically to those around her.

But then came a surge of nausea, an overwhelming urge to empty her stomach.

With a sense of urgency, she rose from her seat and dashed towards the restroom.

The contents of her stomach spilled out, leaving her dry heaving in its wake. Her throat constricted in waves, tears streaming down her face.

The restroom door creaked open as someone else entered.

Chelsey, hunched over the sink, felt her heart racing as she turned to see Gabriella hastily shutting the door behind her.

Before she could utter a word, another wave of nausea gripped her.

Only after the queasiness subsided did she turn on the faucet, stealing a glance at Gabriella's hesitant expression reflected in the mirror.

"Are you seeing someone secretly?"

Gabriella's words felt like they were buzzing in Chelsey's ears. "What?"

Gabriella repeated herself, her gaze piercing, like she was interrogating a criminal.

Pausing in her task, Chelsey arched her eyebrows. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

Gabriella closed the distance between them, seizing Chelsey's arm and scrutinizing her with intensity.

Weak from vomiting, Chelsey met Gabriella's skeptical gaze, her eyes red and her complexion pallid.

"Could you be expecting?" Gabriella asked.

"Mom, what nonsense is this?" Chelsey's irritation flared, her voice louder than intended.

Gabriella eyed her suspiciously.

Realizing her tone was too harsh, Chelsey softened her tone. "I'm not involved with anyone; it's just a stomach upset."

To be honest, she had no idea what was happening.

Before then, everything was okay; she was simply unable to tolerate the slight salmon aroma. Gabriella's question made her instinctively thought back to her monthly cycle.

She couldn't shake the nagging thought of her delayed menstrual cycle.

Could she really be pregnant?

When she had sex with Trevor last month, she received an unexpected call about having to leave for an official trip. She couldn't remember if she had taken birth control pills or not.

Gabriella, unaware of her daughter's internal turmoil, seemed reassured. "Well, that's a relief."

She assumed Chelsey had gotten pregnant before getting married and had been in a relationship without telling her when she first noticed Chelsey's condition.

It comforted her that such was not the case.

She reached for a tissue to dab at the corners of Chelsey's mouth, her words laden with meaning. "Remember, you're my anchor, Chelsey. You can't stray from the path. My happiness hinges on your choices."

"The Morris family may not be perfect, but they've provided for us." Chelsey took the tissue, wiping her mouth.

The two of them were disliked by the Morris family. But Cary had asked Kaden to look after them before he passed away.

Despite Kaden's aversion, he stayed true to his word, ensuring Gabriella received a generous seven-figure annual allowance.

This sum could sustain an average family for generations, yet Gabriella's spending knew no bounds.

Chelsey had imposed a strict monthly spending cap of 300, 000, stashing the surplus for contingencies. With a sprawling family like the Morris family's, financial demands were aplenty.

"How on earth is this meager amount supposed to suffice? Every month, I've got clothes, bags, beauty treatments, and those obligatory social shindigs with the elite. Money's calling from every corner!" Gabriella lamented, calculating expenses with Chelsey.

Chelsey rubbed her temples. "You've got enough clothes and bags as it is. And do you need to hobnob with those judgmental women? They've never held us in high regard, so why bother?"

"You just don't get it!" Gabriella retorted impatiently. "When you've been polished by society, you'll realize that maintaining status is crucial. It's all about connections in those circles. Besides, someone's introduced a promising young chap to me. I was meaning to tell you about it."

Anticipating the pitch, Chelsey cut her off. "I'm swamped with work lately; I barely have time."

Ignoring her excuses, Gabriella went on, "His family might not wield Morris-level power, but they're reputable in Kerton. He's their only son. If you hitch with him..."

"Mom!" Chelsey interjected, exasperated. "I'm not ready to tie the knot yet!"

Gabriella scoffed. "Then what's your plan? Every woman's destiny is to wed. If you marry into a respectable family, I can hold my head high among the Morrises and the rest of society. Early matrimony brings early bliss, you know?"

Chelsey couldn't fathom her logic. "I've got a job, barely two years after graduation. There's ample room for advancement, and my paycheck won't be peanuts. I can support us."

Infuriated, Gabriella snapped, "With that salary, you can't even afford a decent handbag. How will you support us? It barely covers your own needs! This matter's settled. When that fellow sets a date, you'll meet him!"

Gabriella didn't leave room for dissent, dragging Chelsey out of the restroom.

Lost in thoughts about her delayed cycle, Chelsey failed to notice two figures approaching.

Kaden, his appetite dwindling with age, went for some air, accompanied only by Trevor.

"What's up, Chelsey?" Kaden asked.

Chelsey stopped, meeting his gaze.

At eighty-one, Kaden cut a striking figure in his red garb, exuding a sharp, spirited demeanor.

His graying locks, meticulously arranged, hinted at the handsome youth he once was, charming many.

The men of the Morris family were renowned for their looks, especially Trevor. He and Ismael Powell were the town's most eligible bachelors, with a reputation that preceded them.

There was a saying in Kerton that none could evade the grasp of the men from the Morris family.

When Chelsey looked up, she inevitably caught Trevor's eye.

Trevor merely glanced, his gaze chilly and aloof, a hint of frost in his demeanor.

It was his telltale sign of a foul mood.

Chelsey's heart skipped a beat.

She quickly averted her gaze to Kaden. From childhood, she had harbored a fear of him. Despite his affection for his grandchildren, Kaden remained stern, seldom extending a smile her way.

His seemingly concerned remark wasn't genuine; rather, it stemmed from his respect for Cary's final wishes.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa. I had a stomach ache earlier today. Didn't mean to trouble you," Chelsey replied.

Kaden's expression soured, his tone reproachful. "If you weren't feeling well, why keep mum? You needn't have attended the family gathering!"

His words felt like a dismissal of her status within the Morris family.

Chelsey clenched her fingers and instinctively gritted her teeth. Such a comment left her feeling ashamed, especially with Trevor around.

Looking bad in front of him was her last desire.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Gabriella, looking uneasy, tugged at her sleeve, signaling her to stop.

Trevor giggled a little at this. "Grandpa, why do you waste time on this unimportant person? Come on, let's go. It's still a long walk ahead."

"Alright." Kaden swallowed his annoyance and walked on.

There was only the slightest of pauses when Trevor brushed his sleeves across Chelsey. It went undetected and quiet.

Gabriella's suggestion for Chelsey to spend the night at the Morris Mansion was met with a polite refusal. The mansion sprawled like an empire, with separate villas housing Kaden's numerous offspring, and Gabriella's house was tucked furthest from the main building.

Chelsey hadn't lived here since she became an adult.

Gabriella, aware of Chelsey's stubborn streak, didn't press further but reminded her to make a hospital visit before departing.

Just as a semblance of warmth began to permeate the conversation, Gabriella interjected with a jab, "You look like hell from all that vomiting! You have a date in a few days. How can you go looking this battered? First impressions, they're like gold dust, you know?"

"Enough, let's shelve this talk for later." Chelsey ended the conversation, urging Gabriella to retire for the night.

Gabriella, now incensed, retorted, "Have you not noticed how the Morris family regards us? If you flub this, I'll be left utterly red-faced!"

"And marrying into a wealthy family doesn't qualify as flubbing it?" Chelsey shot back.

Gabriella softened her approach, grasping Chelsey's hand gently, her eyes brimming with emotion. "You know my standing in this family. Can you bear to see me ostracized?"

Chelsey couldn't withstand Gabriella's tears. Her resolve wavered. "Let's table this discussion for a while; I'm spent."

Capitalizing on the softened stance, Gabriella persisted, "In this circle, men prefer youth on a platter. They've sampled all the flavors, you see. A wife has to be pliant, youthful, and beautiful."

She tugged at Chelsey's arm, adding, "Now, Trevor might be a tad more decent, but he's not immune to the norms."

At the mention of Trevor, Chelsey shivered involuntarily. She wanted to bolt but also craved to hear more about him.

"What's the matter with him?" she inquired tentatively.

Gabriella's words pierced the air. "Word has it, Kaden's paraded several potential matches, and he's handpicked the youngest and loveliest."

Chelsey stood in the wind, her heart racing.

When she departed the Morris Mansion, night had descended in its entirety.

Autumn had crept in early in Kerton; the evening breeze held a chill.

She hastened her steps; the mansion was situated in the outskirts, devoid of nearby subway stations. To flag down a cab, she needed to reach the main road, a twenty-minute trek away.

Midway, a car horn sounded behind her. Instinctively, she stepped aside, but the vehicle pulled up beside her.

The car window rolled down. Behind the wheel sat Trevor's secretary, Killian Gordon.

"Miss Howard," Killian called out.

Chelsey felt a cold shiver down her spine as she peered inside, though darkness shrouded the interior.

Killian caught her glance and explained, "Mr. Morris is still tied up at the shindig. He sent me here."

Chelsey was on the verge of declining. They were still on the Morris family's radar, susceptible to prying eyes.

Killian flashed her a polite smile and continued, "Miss Howard, Mr. Morris thought it prudent for me to chauffeur you to the hospital. If you're under the weather, it's best to get checked out. Mr. Morris is concerned."

Trevor wasn't known for such considerate gestures.

Chelsey pieced together what was afoot, a suspicion that was confirmed by Killian's next words.

"Mr. Morris mentioned if it's just a stomach ache, the doctor can prescribe something. But if it's more serious, we can make arrangements in advance."

Chelsey's heart skipped a beat.

Was Killian suggesting her potential pregnancy?

And what did he mean by arrangements?

Trevor wouldn't allow her to carry his child!

Moreover, at this crucial juncture, he was set to tie the knot. If she were indeed expecting, she dreaded contemplating his potential reaction.

Chelsey felt a chill sweep over her, unwilling to entertain the thoughts of the dire consequences should her fears prove true.

Killian had everything arranged. At the hospital, Chelsey underwent the examination dutifully, even consenting to an additional blood sample for a pregnancy test.

Seated in the waiting area afterwards, Chelsey idly scratched her palms, leaving angry red marks. Time dragged on, each minute stretching into an eternity.

When she finally departed the hospital, darkness had enveloped the night in its entirety.

The weather wrapped itself around Chelsey like a damp cloak, chilling her to the bone as she stood outside, shivering and sneezing.

Her nose resembled a ripe tomato, and her eyes were all teary. Each gust of wind felt like a slap, bending her delicate frame like a willow branch on the verge of snapping.

Killian opened the car's rear door, signaling Chelsey to climb in, but she hesitated, her gaze fixated on Trevor's impeccably pressed trousers, legs crossed in front of her like an insurmountable barrier.

Trevor placed a hand on his lap, highlighting their individual joints. His fingers looked strong. His watch even had a cool metallic sheen to it, giving off an appearance of refinement.

"Come on, Miss Howard, hop in," Killian prodded gently, a subtle reminder that she had to get in the car.

Trevor, maybe drunk, reclined back against the seat with his eyes closed as Chelsey stepped closer. The inside of the automobile was dark, with much of his face hidden by shadows.

He was like a puzzle waiting to be solved, handsome yet enigmatic.

His suit jacket lay discarded, and the top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, giving him a relaxed vibe.

Chelsey had always known that Trevor rocked black like nobody's business.

It accentuated his rebellious charm, making him look like a suave outlaw.

It was as if black was tailor-made for him, a color that other men could only dream of pulling off with the same flair.

He was like the night itself, mysterious and alluring.

As soon as Chelsey settled, Trevor snatched the bag containing her medication.

"Just so you know, I'm not expecting," she quipped bitterly, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air.

Trevor paused, examining the test report with a detached air before responding, "Well, that's a relief."

A mixture of emotions swirled inside Chelsey, a heavy lump forming in her throat.

Relief mingled with a sense of loss, leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

But Trevor's words were a wake-up call, snapping her back to reality.

No more daydreaming.

When she got back her bearings, Chelsey noticed Trevor had already sorted out her medication. He handed her a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and passing it to her.

"Down the medicine, and no puking in my car," he remarked, reminding her of his germophobia.

Little did he know, Chelsey had already emptied her stomach's contents at the Morris Mansion; there was nothing left to throw up.

She swallowed the pills with a gulp of water, feeling the discomfort of an empty stomach protesting.

Just as she finished, her phone rang. It was Gabriella.

Chelsey hesitated, fearing Gabriella would spill the beans about her upcoming date.

But the persistent ringing and Trevor's impatient expression urged her to pick up.

"Hey," she greeted, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Chelsey, did you see the doctor?" Gabriella's concerned voice came.

The car was too quiet for comfort, so Chelsey pressed the phone closer to her ear, hoping to keep the conversation private.

"Yeah, it's just a case of gastroenteritis. The doctor gave me some meds," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gabriella must have been busy pampering her skin, as her voice boomed through the phone's speaker.

"Oh, and remember what I told you earlier? Take it easy these days, recharge your batteries, and on Saturday, knock his socks off with your charm!"

Chelsey stole a glance at Trevor, feeling a pang of nerves. She quickly wrapped up the call.

But Gabriella's parting words, "Knock his socks off with your charm!" slipped out before she could hang up.

Chelsey felt like she was sitting on pins and needles, praying that Trevor hadn't heard a word.

The car fell into an eerie silence as it glided over a flyover. The tall streetlights cast patches of light into the car, illuminating Trevor's profile.

Accompanied by a low chuckle, he asked, "A blind date?"