Obligated wife

Eleanor POV:

My husband, Adrien, was my shield against the world, the only one who understood the trauma that haunted me after my family was murdered. I clung to him, my fierce loyalty a desperate attempt to keep the monsters at bay.

Then he brought home Daphne, a quiet barista he called innocent. I saw the manipulation in her downcast eyes, but he saw only purity.

His affection turned to violence. He threw me against a wall, his words cutting deeper than any blow.

"You disgust me," he spat.

He let her get pregnant, and when I lost our child in the chaos, he accused me of murder. "You killed my child!" he roared, his love replaced by a chilling hatred.

He bound me, broke me, and left me for dead in a burning helicopter, choosing to save her instead. I was the monster, the madwoman, the one who deserved to be destroyed.

How could the man who swore to protect me become my greatest tormentor?

But I survived. After faking my death to escape his hell, I watched him mourn me with crocodile tears while building a new life with my replacement. Now, I'm back to reclaim my name, my fortune, and to make him understand what a real monster looks like.

Chapter 1

They called us New York's most volatile power couple, a storm that fascinated everyone. We owned every room we walked into, a whirlwind of ambition and possessiveness. What they didn't see was the constant tremor beneath my skin, a relic of the night my old life burned down. Adrien, my husband, the tech magnate, was my rock, my shield. He swore he'd protect me from everything, even myself. I believed him.

And I, in turn, was his. My loyalty was a suffocating blanket, warm to him, but stifling to anyone else. Anyone who dared to cross him, to even glance at him wrong, felt its oppressive weight. I knew it wasn't pretty. People whispered "madness," but it was just love. A distorted echo of the terror I'd known, demanding I cling to the one person who kept the monsters at bay.

Our bond, forged in the ashes of my trauma, felt unbreakable. We were two halves of an imperfect whole, bound by a past no one else could understand. He was the anchor I desperately needed, and I, the wild current that kept him from stagnation. We were meant to weather every storm, together.

Then Daphne Thornton walked in. A barista, they said. A wisp of a thing, with eyes that held the quiet sadness of a lost fawn. Adrien brought her home one evening, after a charity gala. She didn't speak, just offered timid smiles. Innocence, he called it. I called it a lie.

Her silence was a performance, a carefully constructed illusion. She'd hover near Adrien, her gaze always downcast, her movements hesitant. She'd accidentally spill a drink near him, always managing to appear utterly devastated and apologetic, drawing out his protective instincts. I watched, my blood turning to ice, as he'd gently wipe her hand, a tenderness I hadn't seen directed at anyone but me in years.

His attention, once solely mine, drifted like smoke. First, it was a subtle shift in his gaze, lingering on her a second too long. Then, it was the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, a tone he reserved for soothing my nightmares. He started to spend more time in his study, a place I rarely saw him anymore, and I knew she was there, a silent shadow feeding his weary ego.

The signs were everywhere, glaring like neon lights in my peripheral vision. A silk scarf, not mine, tucked into the back of his car. The faint scent of jasmine, not my perfume, clinging to his shirts. I stared at these fragments, my stomach churning, but my face remained a mask of stone. My heart was a drum, beating a furious rhythm against my ribs, but I wouldn't let it show. Not yet.

I waited until I learned her regular coffee shop, until I memorized her schedule. I dressed in a simple black dress, no jewelry, no makeup. I wanted her to see me, stripped bare of the gilded cage Adrien had built around me, to see the woman beneath the facade. I parked my car directly across from the cafe, its dark windows reflecting my grim determination.

She walked out, head bowed, carrying a small, worn bag. I stepped out of my car, my heels clicking sharply on the pavement, a sound that cut through the city's hum. She flinched, then looked up, her eyes wide. I approached her slowly, deliberately, like a predator stalking its prey. My shadow fell over her, swallowing her whole.

"Daphne Thornton," I said, my voice low, dripping with a sweetness that was anything but. My eyes bored into hers, daring her to look away. She trembled, her hands clutching her bag tighter. She was small, fragile, exactly what Adrien thought he wanted.

She swallowed, her throat working hard. Then she shook her head, a silent plea. My smile stretched, a grotesque parody of amusement. "Oh, darling," I purred. "We both know that little act won't work on me."

My hand shot out, grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back sharply. Her eyes widened further, fear finally painting them. "I'm only going to say this once," I hissed, my voice a venomous whisper. "Stay away from my husband. Stay away from my life. Or I will make you regret every breath you take."

She whimpered, a small, choked sound. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill. I didn't care. "Listen," I commanded, my grip tightening on her hair. "You think you're clever, playing the innocent victim. But I've seen real victims, real pain. You, my dear, are just a cheap imitation."

Then I did it. I pulled her into the busy street, directly into the path of an oncoming taxi. The driver slammed on his brakes, the screech of tires a deafening protest. Daphne screamed, a raw, piercing sound that ripped through the air. The fake muteness was gone, shattered by genuine terror.

The sound of the taxi screeching echoed in my ears, but louder, more terrifying, was the roar that followed. "Eleanor!" Adrien's voice, a whip of pure fury, lashed out, cutting through the chaos. He appeared out of nowhere, his face contorted with rage, his eyes locked on me. He ran to Daphne, scooping her up from the pavement, his arms a protective cage around her trembling form. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat, his gaze burning holes through me.

He held her close, stroking her hair, whispering reassurances I couldn't hear. Her sobs were loud now, real, burrowing into his shoulder. He didn't even spare me a glance as he turned, preparing to carry her away. My stomach plummeted, a cold, heavy stone.

He tried to walk past me, but I wouldn't let him. I reached out, my hand clamping onto his arm, my fingers digging into his suit jacket. "Adrien, no," I choked out, a desperate plea. The world tilted, the pavement blurring beneath my feet. This couldn't be happening. Not like this.

He didn't stop. He merely shrugged me off, his movement dismissive, as if I were nothing more than a bothersome fly. My hand slipped, my nails tearing at the fabric, but he didn't even flinch. He just kept walking, his back a cold, unyielding wall.

"If you walk away," I screamed, my voice raw, cracking, "I swear to God, Adrien, I will make sure neither of you live to see tomorrow! I will burn this city down, starting with her!" The words were poison, but they were true. Every fiber of my being screamed for retaliation.