"You're my wife, Charlotte. That means I have the right to touch you how I want," he whispered, his body still pressed against mine. ♥ ♥ ♥ Charlotte Fisher's life was turned upside down when she was forced into a loveless marriage. Her husband's infidelity and subsequent abuse pushed her to escape, but instead of finding freedom, she fell into the arms of the last person she expected. As she began to rebuild her life and find happiness, her past came back to haunt her. Her ex-husband was determined to track her down, and Charlotte was forced to confront the demons she thought she'd left behind. Will she be able to overcome her past and build a new life with the one who has captured her heart?
Chapter 1 A broken heart
Charlotte Pov
After a long afternoon of grocery shopping, I finally arrived home, arms laden with bags filled with the essentials and a few indulgences. My mind was already drifting towards a hot cup of tea and a quiet evening when I heard it-an odd sound coming from inside the house.
My heart gave a small, startled jolt. I paused, listening intently. It was faint at first, like a silent moaning and then a whisper of words. Pushing the unease aside and the feeling of sadness that already envelope me, I tried not to think about the very possible thing. As I approached the door, the sounds grew clearer. There was an unmistakable rhythm to them now, like hushed whispers mingling with soft footsteps. I forced myself to breathe slowly, refusing to let my imagination run wild.
Step by deliberate step, I moved closer. When I reached the door, my hand hesitated on the handle. Who could it be? I couldn't ignore the possibility, yet I couldn't bring myself to back away either.
With a steadying breath, I opened the door slowly and the entire blood in my body rushed to my feet as I stared at what was before me. My husband had a redhead lady on our matrimonial bed, her clothes were off as he leaned close kissing her roughly and cupped her breast with his hand, she begged him to insert his stuff into her as she moaned to the pleasure.
He bent her roughly and slide his size into her and started to pump, hard. The lady moaned loudly, making the pit of my stomach to grumbled in irritation. I couldn't believe my eyes neither did I believe such would ever happen, I knew my husband didn't love me but I didn't expect that he would do something as stupid as what was happening. It was obvious that he didn't care to know if I was standing by the door watching him bang another woman.
They continued their lustful act as my heart hammered painfully against my rib cage. The air was thick with heat and sweat and they both looked happy. My face felt hot too and I closed my eyes and took several long slow deep breaths.
Even though I don't love him, I couldn't stand there and watch him getting intimate with another redheaded woman. The sight churns something deep within me, an unexpected mix of anger and disgust as I decide to go in and stop them, to put an end to the sordid display.
Just as I take a step forward, I feel a sudden, sharp yank on my hair. Pain shoots through my scalp, and I stumble backward, as I was being pulled by the hair down the passageway and into an enclosed room. I wince, struggling to keep my balance and composure.
Turning to see who has done this to me, I was met with a stinging slap across my face. My head snaps to the side, and for a moment, I was too shocked to react. When I manage to look up, my eyes meet the sharp, unforgiving gaze of my mother-in-law.
Her eyes are cold, and her expression is one of pure disdain. "What do you think you're doing, Charlotte?" she hisses, her voice dripping with venom as her peered into mine in disgust.
I blink, trying to process the sudden shift from anger to fear. "I... I was just-"
"You were just what?" she interrupts, stepping closer, her presence overwhelming. "Going to make a scene? Embarrass my son while he enjoys himself?"
I swallow hard, my cheek stinging from the slap. "I can't just stand by and watch him-"
"Watch him what? Be with someone who he actually cares about?" she snaps. "Maybe you don't know what you were getting into when your parents sold you to us with this marriage facade. This is not about love; it's about duty and appearances. If you can't handle that, then perhaps you should reconsider your place here."
Her words cut deep, each one a dagger to my already fragile sense of self. I want to scream, to fight back, but I know it would be futile. In this family, my voice means nothing. I'm just a pawn in their game, a decorative piece in their twisted idea of perfection.
The fact that I was forced into a marriage with a man I barely knew or loved made everything worse. It was all for my family, as my mom put it. She had always seen me as a way to get rich from the day I began to understand things. And my father was even worse.
My mind flashed back to the moment I walked down the aisle with tears in my eyes. I watched my mother smiling at me and my father looking happy. The only person who wasn't in support of everything was my sister, but there was nothing she could do about it. I feel bad that her fate might end up like mine.
The first day I set foot in the mansion, the rules were laid down with a resounding slap from my husband, supported by my mother-in-law. They both treated me like a slave, saying my desperate parents begged them to accept me.
My mother would never look me in the eye, and my father only told me to do as they said and that whatever happened to me was no longer his business.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I lowered my gaze, my hand clenched against the hem of my brown long-sleeve shirt.
"I'm sorry," I manage to whisper, though the words taste bitter on my tongue.
"Sorry isn't good enough," she says, her tone softening just a fraction, but her eyes still cold. "You will go back to your room and stay there until I decide what to do with you."
With that, she releases my hair, pushing me towards the door. I stumble out, my heart pounding, my face throbbing. As I make my way back to my room, I can't help but feel the weight of my situation pressing down on me. This isn't a marriage; it's a prison. And I am trapped.
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