Chapter 5: A Record
Samantha POV...
The maid's legs almost gave way as she led me through the silent halls. I was tempted to ask her what was going on, but my lips felt too heavy to open.
Everything that happened with the previous maid replayed in my head, the way her lips quivered when she spoke, her torn clothes, the bruises on her body. None of it was adding up. My mind sat heavily in my chest, whispering warnings over and over again. Something was wrong.
I swallowed hard, trying not to think too much about it. I forced myself to remain calm, even though my mind was in utter chaos.
What if you're next?
Do you even know what he did to that woman?
You were warned not to get involved, but you didn't listen.
You have no family. You're just a poor orphan.
If he kills you and buries you here, who would come looking for you?
My thoughts refused to stop, driving me dangerously close to insanity.
"Nothing is going to happen," I whispered to myself when the whispers became unbearable. "He needs me. I am his wife."
I had to force some sense into my head.
"Ma'am, we're here," the maid said, stopping abruptly. "I'll leave you now."
She didn't wait for my response before turning and hurrying away.
"You're leaving alre-"
The words died in my throat. I swallowed them back, knowing I had no choice but to face my fears alone.
I stood there, shaking, staring at the large brown door for several minutes. Something about it felt different. It looked older, worn out, and nothing like the other doors in the house.
Why was this one different?
"Come in, Samantha."
A sharp pain pierced my chest at the sound of his voice. My legs quivered as my hand slowly wrapped around the doorknob. I didn't wonder why he knew I was there, he was a man of misery anyways.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before finally pushing the door open.
I froze and my heart almost leapt out of my chest when I saw him, his huge, imposing figure standing right in front of the door, staring straight into my eyes.
"Sweet Lord..." I gasped.
One hand flew to my chest, the other braced against my knee as I struggled to steady myself.
"Why did you do that for? You scared the living daylight out of me, and that isn't funny one bit." I took deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves.
He didn't answer. He didn't even act like he had done anything wrong.
He simply turned around and walked toward the bed.
I stared at him, wishing I could grab the flower vase resting on the table opposite me and smash it on his head. Nothing annoyed me more than how nonchalant he acted whenever he did something cruel or strange.
"Close the door and come closer," he said. His voice came out hoarse, heavy with authority and command, even though he made no effort to enforce it.
It hurt that I couldn't react, that I had to act like an obedient dog. I shut the door and walked toward him, just as he commanded.
His eyes slowly traveled over me, lingering on my face before he finally spoke again.
"My family will be here for lunch tomorrow, so keep that in mind and behave accordingly."
I stiffened.
"When they arrive, they'll have a lot of questions for you," he continued. "Answer none of them. I'll do all the talking. Do you understand?"
I nodded calmly. That wouldn't be a problem. I wasn't a fan of answering questions anyway.
"My mother will ask the most questions," he added. "She'll use every opportunity she gets to touch your stomach, because they all believe you're pregnant."
His words caught me completely off guard.
"Pregnant?" I blurted out. "I don't understand what you're saying. I'm not pregnant, so why would they think that?"
"Watch your tone, Mrs. Samantha," he snapped. His eyes slowly burned with rage.
But I wasn't listening anymore. I needed answers.
"Tone?" I snapped back. "How can you say that now? You need to clear the air because at this point I'm completely confused." I paced back and forth in agitation, my fingers digging into my hair as my ears strained for a response.
"I told them you're pregnant," he said coldly. "I also told them we've been married for a year now. That's all you need to know, for now."
I stared at him as everything slowly began to make sense.
"You'll wear this tomorrow." He tossed a black nylon bag at me.
I caught it, confused, then froze when I opened it.
A fake pregnancy bump.
"You're going to put this on tomorrow and keep it on until they leave," he said casually, grabbing a bottle of wine from the bar in the corner of the room. "I hope that isn't too hard for you."
Anger surged through me. This was the last straw that broke the camels back.
"This wasn't part of the contract," I snapped. "You never mentioned this. I'm already not okay with you cutting off my communication, and now this? Did you even ask if I was comfortable with any of it? I'm not your puppet an-"
"You see, that's what you don't understand, Samantha." He walked toward me, swirling the wine in his glass. "You are my puppet. And I twist you into any position I wish."
My breath hitched as he got closer.
"Do you remember what I told you in the car?" A sly smile crept onto his lips, the kind that sent chills down my spine.
"Why don't you listen, Samantha?" His smile melted into frustration. Suddenly, he slammed the glass onto the floor. It shattered, the sound echoing loudly through the room.
I staggered back in panic, and he followed, slow and deliberate.
My heart raced wildly when my back hit the wall. There was nowhere else to go.
"I'm not a difficult man," he said calmly as he closed the distance between us. "If you just listen."
His breath brushed against my neck. My body trembled as his hands wrapped tightly around my throat.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly. "Just be the good puppet you're meant to be."
His grip tightened. I coughed, gasping for air, my eyes burning as hot tears spilled down my face.
My feet slowly lifted off the floor.
"Be a good girl and obey every command without complaint," he whispered. "Or do I need to keep reminding you?"
With the last strength I had, I nodded.
"Good."
He released me.
I collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently, struggling to breathe.
"Now get lost with that useless nylon," he snarled, "before I come for you again."
He wasn't joking. His eyes were bloodshot, his face void of mercy.
I didn't know how I managed it, but the moment he took another step toward me, I fled the room.
As I ran, only one thought echoed in my mind.
What exactly have I walked into... and what really awaits me?
