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Two Weeks Later
“Iwon’t marry him,” I screamed at my brother as he sat behind his desk in his office at what used to be my childhood home.
“You don’t have a fucking choice, Mia. You killed Banrov. You think his son is going to give you a free pass because his father abused you,” my brother yelled back, his voice deeper than my screeching own.
I said nothing as I stared at him, my eyes filled with fury.
“If you had come to me and told me what he was doing, I could’ve helped you before it got to this extreme.”
“You were the one who sold me off. Shouldn’t you know what kind of man you gave me to?”
My brother sighed, running a hand down his face before pointing a finger at me, “I did not sell you off.”
I laughed humorlessly, “Then what do you call making me marry some stranger so he could help you and Daddy? You act like you protect me, but you are just like father. Sick and fucking delusional.”
My brother’s jaw clenched. He hated being compared to our father. He was a cold bastard that saw us as just rare commodities, things to trade for his seat at the table.
Michael was nothing like him, at least not when we were growing up, but father’s influence on him was strong, even from six feet under.
“Radley,” My brother shouted and not a second later, one of his brain-dead henchmen came to the door.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take Mia upstairs,” he ordered, not sparing me another glance as Radley ushered me out of the room.
***
Radley slammed the door when I crossed the threshold, leaving me to stew in the news that I would be married to another made man.
This time to Elias Galdur- the man who was dubbed as the Grim Reaper. An even bigger monster than my husband. He had no good reputation, not that many were in his presence to even conceive one.
But the little I heard was not good and my body began to tremble at another possibility of a horrible marriage.
I was never against marriage. I wanted the fairytale love. Of course, I knew I wouldn’t get that with a made man, but I thought at the very least I would be treated with respect.
When I was introduced to Ilya, I knew he was older but it was shadowed by how much of a gentleman he was to naïve, 18-year-old me.
He played his cards right. Wooed me, spoiled me, and made a great impression on our family.
Because as much as we needed him, he needed us too.
When we got married, it was as if the curtain closed. He became the devil that he was called.
I remembered our wedding night instead of going on our honeymoon, we returned to his home.
He said he had toys. Naïve and a virgin, I thought he simply meant the kind of thing you saw and read about when you were curious; dildos, even a butt plug.
Instead, it was this structure, that suspended me in the air. I was shocked when I saw it, but I tended to his needs wanting to be a dutiful wife.
He did every degradable, nasty thing he could’ve thought of to me as I cried endless tears. I wondered why he didn’t stop when I screamed or begged him to release me, but I soon found out it turned him on.
He loved seeing me suffer.
The next time, I told him I wouldn’t do it and how dare I tell the head of the Banrov family no.
I learned my lesson quickly when he dragged me to the room and whipped me until I submitted to him.
And so, it became our routine; every night giving into his every sadistic demand.
