Elena’s POV

“Stop! Leave me! Damien!”

My scream tore out of my throat as panic surged, tears blurring my vision. My heart shattered.

I didn’t understand what was happening.

Just moments ago, everything had been… quiet. Tense, yes—but manageable.

He had knelt in front of me. Damien Vitale—my husband, and he was trying to take off my heels.

The gesture had startled me more than anything else. A man like him—cold, powerful—lowering himself like that?

It didn’t feel right.

“D-don’t worry,” I had said quickly, my voice unsteady. “I can do it myself—”

I tried to pull my foot back. That was all it took.

His hand closed around my ankle. Tight. Too tight.

My breath caught.

“Allow me,” he said.

His voice had changed. It wasn’t calm anymore. It was sharp in a way that didn’t feel safe.

My heart started to race.

“I–I can do it myself—” I tried again, instinctively pulling away.

That was when everything shifted.

His grip moved—faster this time—grabbing my wrist before I could react. My body jerked forward slightly, caught off guard.

“I said,” he repeated, more firmly now, “allow me.”

I froze.

There was something in his eyes; Something dark. Something… wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered suddenly, loosening his hold for a brief second.

Relief flickered through me. So I pulled back again. Just a tiny movement—that small, desperate instinct to protect myself—

It broke something in him.

His grip snapped back, harder than before.

A sharp gasp escaped me.

“Damien—” I didn’t get to finish

He yanked at my legs, pulling me off balance as the heels were ripped from my feet in one rough motion. I barely had time to react before—

His hand struck my face. The sound rang in my ears.

For a second, everything went silent.

“I’m your husband!” he yelled.

Another slap.

My head snapped to the side, pain exploding across my cheek.

“You listen to me!”

My body curled inward instantly, arms coming up to shield my face as fear flooded every part of me.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

I tried to move, to get away—but he was already there, overwhelming, suffocating.

“Stop! Leave me! Damien!” I cried, my voice breaking as tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

He didn’t stop. Not immediately.

His grip on me was bruising, his movements rough, like he wasn’t even aware of his own strength. I felt myself being pushed back, the mattress dipping beneath me as I landed with a sob.

Everything hurts….My face. My arms. My chest.

Then suddenly—he stopped. Just… stopped. The weight of him was gone.

I didn’t move. I didn’t trust it.

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, his voice shaking now. “I didn’t mean to do this. Please…”

Please?

My body trembled violently, fear rooting me to the spot. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t dare.

Then, Footsteps. Pulling away, retreating.

The door creaked open. A brief pause. Then it closed.

He was gone.

**

The silence in the room was deafening after Damien left. My pulse pounded in my ears, and my body felt frozen, like it had been branded with the memory of his hands on me.

I curled into myself, pulling my knees to my chest as tears streamed down my face. My skin still burned where he had touched me.

Why…? Why would something so small turn into this? All I did was pull away. All I did was try to take off my own shoes.

Was this my life now? Walking on eggshells over the smallest things? Never knowing what would set him off

Footsteps echoed faintly downstairs. More footsteps.

Closer now. Coming up the stairs.

My body tensed instantly.

“Please… let it not be him,” I whispered under my breath.

The door opened.

Margaux stepped in.

She appeared in the doorway, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on me.

Her expression softened—remorse written clearly across her face—but beneath it was something else. Resolve.

She sat beside me, careful and composed.

“I apologize for his actions, Elena,” she said. “I didn’t expect things to escalate so soon.”

Her words offered no comfort. They only reminded me how I had ended up here—married to a man I didn’t know. A man almost twice my age.

“Did you hear it?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Did you hear what he did to me?”

“I didn’t hear everything,” she replied quietly. “But I heard enough.”

She reached for my hand. I pulled away.

“Tell me this isn’t what I signed up for!” I shouted. “How does a normal man beat his wife on their wedding night—for no reason at all?”

Her face turned hard, and her jaw tightened with anger at Damien, maybe. But it wasn’t enough. I needed her to tell me it would be okay. I needed her to fix this.

“Hmmm…”

That was all she said.

“Will he hurt me again?” I asked, dread thick in my voice.

Margaux stayed quiet.

Then, slowly, she rose to her feet.

She didn’t turn away. She didn’t leave. She simply stood there, hands folded neatly in front of her, watching me like a predator sizing up prey. Her presence was commanding. Controlled. Observant.

I hugged my knees tighter. The silence stretched, unbearable.

Her stillness told me everything I needed to know: she wasn’t here to comfort me. She was here to watch and judge, measuring how much fear I could carry and still remain useful.

For a long moment, she said nothing—just looked at me, really looked, the way people do when they’re deciding what version of the truth to offer.

“Don’t worry,” she said at last, her voice calm. “I will speak to Damien.”

The words landed softly, but they didn’t sink in. Don’t worry. As if worry were something I could simply set down.

“Talking won’t change what he did.”

“He is complicated,” she replied. “But not beyond correction. I'm his mother.”

“And me?” I asked. My voice was small now, stripped raw. “How am I supposed to handle him?”

“You are his wife,” she said. “You’ll figure it out.”

I stared at her, disbelief mixing with fear. “Are you being serious right now, Ma? He hit me.”

“Yes, and that's why I will talk to him.”

She shot a dismissive glance, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “For now, you should rest. Try to sleep. Emotions are high tonight.”

“Sleep?” I almost laughed.

She paused at the doorway, one hand resting against the frame. “Elena,” she added, turning back to me, “you are safe here. I won’t allow my son to ruin what I have worked so hard to build.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice to betray me.

Margaux nodded once, as if my silence were agreement, then stepped into the hall. Her heels clicked away, steady and unhurried, the sound fading down the staircase.

The door closed softly behind her.

I was alone again.

The room felt too big now, too quiet. I lay back against the pillows, staring at the canopy above the bed, every creak of the house making my heart jump.

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, my body still buzzing with pain and memory. Every nerve felt exposed. Waiting.

Please don’t come back—

The handle moved.

I sucked in a breath “too late.”

The door opened slowly, deliberately, like whoever stood on the other side wanted me to feel every second of it.

Damien stepped inside.

He closed the door behind him with a quiet finality.

My throat locked.