At around two in the morning, I staggered into the magnificent Laurent mansion, reeking of alcohol. My head pounded from the alcohol as my breaths came out in sharp gasps.
This place, with its tiled floors and glittering chandeliers, belongs to the wealthiest family in Oakridge—the Laurents.
It’s also my… home.
Three years ago, I married their eldest son, Leon Laurent, and officially became Mrs. Laurent.
Under normal circumstances, any woman would celebrate landing a husband from such a prestigious family. But in my case, everyone mocked me—because my husband was comatose.
Essentially, I married a living corpse and have been tending to him ever since. But I didn’t mind; for enough money, it wouldn’t have mattered if he were half-dead or fully buried, I would have married him.
I wanted security more than anything else.
As I pushed open the bedroom door, I expected the usual silence and darkness. Instead, bright lights met my eyes, making me squint them in pain.
“You actually remembered to come home, you shameless creature!” a sharp, grating voice cut through the silence, breaking through my haze. Then, before I could react, a hard slap landed across my cheek.
My skin burned immediately as I tried to process what had just happened. I was stunned for a bit, and turned my bruised face, staring blankly at my mother-in-law, Serena Laurent, fury etched across every line of her face.
"You shameless wretch! If you continue to disregard the household rules and come home at ungodly hours, you'll face the consequences! Tessa, you would do well to recall the vows you made when you joined this family and the expectations that come with being a part of it."
A sudden wave of anger surged through me, overriding the sting in my cheek. I shoved her hand away, my voice quivering with barely contained resentment. “Oh, I remember just fine, Serena. But don’t act like I owe you anything. We both got what we wanted, didn’t we?”.
Her glare could have melted steel as she faced me with an expression that shows she isn't someone to be messed with. “Tessa, I made you Mrs. Laurent. I can strip that title away whenever I please!”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Be my guest,” I challenged. “Then your precious son can lie there forever, unloved and unattended, because no one else in Oakridge would be desperate enough to marry someone who is in a coma!”
My words hit the nail on the head. Given the current situation of Leon, there is no other woman in Oakridge who would marry him besides me!
Serena’s hand trembled with rage as she pointed a finger at me. “You... how dare... Tessa! How...” she stuttered, her words unable to form.
“Out!” I snapped, cutting her off. “I’m going to bed.” The beating of my heart hammered in my ears as I slammed the door in her face, but a part of me still trembled inside.
With adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I turned toward Leon. He lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising and falling in the faintest of rhythms.
My anger at Serena flared again, and I grabbed a pillow, hurling it at his face. As usual, he didn’t even flinch.
Indeed, after being married to him for 3 years, tending to him and being insulted by others, I was used to his silence.
Before I could calm down, my phone buzzed, the tinny ringtone jolting me. The screen displayed “Zach the Pig.” My stomach twisted in disgust.
Rolling my eyes, I poured a generous glass of red wine and pressed the phone to my ear. In my most sweet tone, I purred, “Zach, we only parted ways an hour ago. Missing me already?”
I could feel my stomach churning in irritation as I faked my sweet voice. If not for our contractual agreement, I wouldn’t give that vile man the time of day.
Zach responded with some crude joke, the kind that normally made my skin crawl. I forced out a playful laugh, my voice dripping with a faux sweetness that I’d perfected over time.
As I tilted the glass to take a sip, wine sloshed over the rim, splattering onto Leon’s clothes—unfortunately, in a rather critical part of his body.
I ended the call, heaving a weary sigh. My entire body felt tense, as though every muscle were coiled. Setting down the wine, I pulled out a clean set of pajamas from the dresser.
I’d done this a thousand times before—changing Leon’s clothes, adjusting his IV, fluffing his pillows. I had no feelings for him, yet this routine was oddly intimate.
When I peeled off his stained pants, I couldn’t help but notice the firm lines of his thighs. For a man in a persistent vegetative state, he was surprisingly well-built.
It was jarring, a cruel reminder that there was once a strong, capable person behind those lifeless eyes.
“What good does it do you now?” I muttered under my breath. “You’re still useless to me.” My words echoed in the silent room, and for a split second, guilt flickered through me.
But I buried it just as quickly.
I tossed a blanket over him, then headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would rinse away the heavy feelings that weighed on me.
By the time I emerged, it was almost three in the morning. My limbs felt heavy, and all I wanted was the oblivion of sleep.
After applying a face mask, one of the few indulgences I still enjoyed, I sank into bed and closed my eyes.
In a daze, I felt something pressing on my leg. At first, I thought it was just the covers bunching up. Then, a rough hand slid over my waist, its touch startlingly real. My eyes snapped open.
Hovering above me was Leon’s face, still pallid but undeniably awake. I froze, my heart beating erratically like a drum in my chest.
“Le… Leon?” My voice trembled, cracking with fear and shock.
Before I could even process what was happening, he sank his teeth into my neck, hard enough to make me cry out. I pushed him away, my hands shaking, and scrambled for the light switch as a sharp scream escaped my lips.
The chandeliers' lights instantly illuminated the room. I felt my mind froze when my eyes landed on the figure not too far from me.
Leon was there, upright, chest heaving, his eyes alert and full of something I couldn’t quite decipher: rage, confusion, maybe both.
The man who’d been lost to a coma for three long years was suddenly… here. Alive. Awake.
And staring straight at me.
