Chapter 6

Mila

“This is where she rests,” he said, voice flat as stone, and tapped the name chiseled into the marble.

“Beautiful, naive, and utterly useless to me in the end.” My fingers ached where his thumb had dug into my skin. I forced myself to breathe, to look at the letters as if they belonged to someone else.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. “This bringing me here it’s cruel.”He turned to me, and sneered “Cruel?” he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him.

“Mila, you were the one getting married to a lie at that altar. You were the one they thought they could sell.”“I was a child of circumstance,” I shot back, heat rising to my face. “You abducted me. You stole my choice.” The words came sharper than I intended; they surprised even me.He smiled, slow and dangerous.

“Stole?” His laugh was wind that rattled the leaves. “No. I reclaimed. There’s a difference.”“You reclaimed what?” I demanded. “Your ego? Your pride?”He stepped closer, close enough that the scent of his cologne filled my nose.

“Power, Mila. Wealth. Control. The things people like us measure worth with.” His voice softened dangerously. “You think I dragged you out here to humiliate you? Think again. I brought you to remind you of two things: one, who held me before you; and two, that no one will mistake you for her.”I felt a hot flush of anger.

“So I’m supposed to be grateful?” I said. “Grateful that you tore my life apart for… what? Your amusement?”His eyes darkened. “Not amusement.” He pressed his thumb gently against the ring on my finger the ring that I had barely registered as it had been forced onto me.

“Precision. Practicality.” He lifted his hand so that the ring he had forced me to wear caught the sunlight “You are an instrument, Mila. You are useful.”“For what?” I asked, forcing myself to stay steady despite the trembling in my voice.He shrugged.

“To Breed my child that depends on you. Learn to play your part well and life might be tolerable. Resist, and I will… adjust the parameters.”“And those parameters?” I swallowed, hating how small I sounded. “What are they?”

He lowered his voice until it was almost intimate. “Obey. Don’t embarrass me. Be seen with me when I choose, and keep your mouth closed where it matters.”The word obey landed heavier than any blow. I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued before I could form one.

“You will not expect tenderness. You will expect order.” He said it like a promise and a threat“You speak like you own the world,” I said, each syllable cutting.He laughed, a short, humorless sound. “I own a small part of it. That’s more than enough.”We stood in the quiet for a while, the headstone between us like a witness to the brutality of his declaration.

Then, unexpectedly, he crouched, picked up the discarded rose, and brought it to his lips before crushing it beneath his boot.“You see how easily things wither,” he said, standing again. “People. Promises. Flowers. They’re all temporary.”I swallowed bile that tasted faintly of copper. “And what about you? Is your heart”“Is dead?” He finished for me.

“Yes. Conveniently so.”“You could have spared me this,” I told him. “You didn’t have to make me small in front of her grave.”“You forget the first rule,” he murmured. “Power must be demonstrated. Not for me to remind you and anyone else who might watch. The world respects strength.”

“And you think being cruel shows strength?” I spat.“It does when it works,” he said simply. “And it worked today.”His tone softened a fraction, and for a sliver of a second I saw the man behind the mask tired, exasperated, almost hollow. It was a look so faint it might have been my imagination. I reached for it like a drowning person reaches for a rope.

“Why are you like this?” I asked, unexpectedly honest. “Was she…she was your wife something happened? Did she…”He cut me off with a single look. “Don’t play the pity game, Mila.” He stepped back, as if avoiding a contagious disease.

“If I wanted to tell you my history, I would. I didn’t bring you here for sympathy. I brought you here to set expectations.”The sunlight made his profile severe cheekbones like knives, mouth a line of iron. “Expectations,” I echoed. “So tell me then: what if I refuse? What happens if I choose not to be your… instrument?”His eyes flicked to mine.

“Then you’ll make it difficult for yourself. You’ll find doors closed. People will look at you with the same pitying eyes you had tonight eyes that see a woman with no home, no influence, no protection.” He spread his hands slightly. “You will be small in every possible way.”I found my voice on the edge of a sob and a laugh.

“So you’ll starve me out. Make me beg.”“No.” He shot me a look that was almost amused. “I’ll merely remind everyone where your loyalties lie. Subtlety is more efficient.”I swallowed hard. “Is there nothing you won’t take?”

“For you?” He raised an eyebrow. “You?” He turned away as if the thought was ridiculous. “No.”A beat passed, then he said, almost conversationally, “Get in the car.” His tone brooked no refusal.I wanted to argue.

To scream. To make a scene and draw anyone neighbors, police, anyone iinto this private humiliation. But when I glanced at the dark line of the road and the black shape of his car idling beyond the gate, a cold clarity settled over me,

I was as alone as a leaf in a storm.I moved, slow and deliberate, to the car. My limbs felt leaden, but my mind was sharp. Questions ran through it like a prayer: Who else knew? What had he planned? How long until someone noticed? How long until I could find a way out?

Lance slid into the driver’s seat as if he belonged there and shut the door with a soft click. He didn’t look at me as I took the passenger seat. He started the engine; the car hummed like a beast pleased at being fed.“You’ll make an appearance tomorrow at the reception reset.”

He said it without looking up. “Smile when I say so. Speak when I say so. Don’t contradict me.”The ride home was long and silent except for the soft music playing from the dashboard something old and orchestral, a mockery of romance.

I watched trees blur past, watched my reflection in the window, a pale, wide-eyed woman wearing a ring that glinted like a brand.When his manor came into view towers rising like the teeth of an old beast fear and a stubborn, terrible pride warred in my chest.

He had taken everything from me tonight, but not my capacity to think, to plan, to wait.If he wanted an obedient wife, good. He would get a wife who learned the rules, who played his game on her terms. I would watch and learn, at least for Mary's sake.

For now, I would smile when instructed. I would wear the scarlet he’d painted me in. But I would keep the one thing he could not buy or break: hope. It tasted bitter, but it was mine.

“Do you have anything to say to me?” he asked suddenly, voice flat.I met his eyes in the dim light of the car. “Yes,” I said. “I will not be your ruin.”He considered me, then let out a short, pleased sound that might have been a laugh. “Bold,” he said. “We shall see.”