Chapter 1 #3
I flicked through the sheets, my brows furrowing at what I was seeing: there was a large selection of papers purely dedicated to routines.
I scanned the titles, not even able to hold back my groan.
Daily Exercise Regime. Weekly Diet Plan.
Daily Testing Schedule. Daily Therapy Sessions. Medication and Vitamin Supplement List.
“What if I don’t want to go?” I asked.
Gordon chuckled. “Why do you think clients have to pay as much as I did? You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, and so will they.”
“Aren’t they supposed to be doctors? You know, professionals?”
“Yes. Doctors that will follow my orders. A little bit of money goes a long way, Juliette.”
“What if I run away?”
“You think this place won’t be covered in security that will be on my payroll?”
Head shaking in disbelief, I sighed. “Is this a fertility clinic or a prison?”
He offered me a casual shrug. “Both, I suppose.”
“You can’t just drag me off to Switzerland.”
“I can and I will and I very much intend to do exactly that. It’s not like you have any commitments here, anyway.”
It was funny how he said that. Like I didn’t want commitments, like I didn’t want to paint and work and have just a slither of freedom.
That had all been taken away from me the second he forced his stupid ugly ring on my finger.
My hobbies? My interests? Gone. Utterly nonexistent.
I hadn’t touched a paintbrush in years. Art supplies were banned in my household.
Literally. I was Mrs. Cavendish now, and all Mrs. Cavendish did was smile and look pretty.
My eyes moved behind him. To the rows and rows of designer handbags, catching just a peek of my most precious piece: vintage Chanel, hot pink, utterly priceless—not because of the bag, but because of what was in it.
My freedom. “But…” I looked back at him.
“What about your job? What about the law firm?”
He exhaled, sharp and impatient. “You know I’m in a position to take time off whenever I want.”
“We’re just gonna go to Switzerland?” I asked. “Where are we even going to stay?”
“At the center. They will provide accommodation.”
My throat cleared. “I don’t want to go. I’m…” I couldn’t go. I wouldn’t go. Not when I was so close and not so I could just be trapped in a castle that looked beautiful from the outside but seemed like pure torture from the inside.
“I don’t care what you do or don’t want,” he said, straightening his tie. “In a month, we will be flying off to Switzerland. There you will be given the chance to see some of the best fertility specialists in the world. You should be saying thank you.”
“You expect me to be poked and prodded for three months?”
“I expect you to shut up and follow orders like a good wife.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You have nothing that’s here for you…”
My eyes closed. I had something. My final shot to escape him. Freedom was so close I could almost taste it, but he couldn’t know about that. “Three months is a long time to be in a foreign country,” I mumbled.
“Oh, please don’t act like a child about this. You’re lucky I’m letting you have a vacation at all.”
I held in a laugh. “A vacation? I’m going to be doing tests all day, have doctors I’ve never met before put their hands all over me, and sit down and do a hundred consultations as if I don’t already know what they’ll tell me.”
He exhaled, the sound sharp as his eyes narrowed. “And what do you think they’re going to tell you?”
Mistake. That was a mistake. “Nothing,” I quickly said.
“Juliette, speak up.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Cold, gray eyes landed on my stomach. “It isn’t my fault your body wasn’t made to carry my child. Or any child…”
“Right…”
“The longer you’re not pregnant, the longer you waste my time. My inheritance will only be given to me when I produce an heir. I’m doing my part of the producing, but you?” He scoffed. “I can’t keep waiting around. You simply aren’t giving me what I want.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just… you know…” My voice trailed off, but he already knew what my suggestion was.
“There has never been a single Cavendish to get a divorce. That will not be happening. I will not be the first to make my family a laughing stock all thanks to you,” he said, eyes all cold.
“I’ve been waiting for you to give me a child for five years, Juliette.
You will go to Switzerland, you will get pregnant, and then I will get that money. ”
“When does this exciting trip take place?” I looked past him again, over to that handbag once more, before quickly locking my eyes back on to him.
“By the end of the month, we’ll be leaving. I’m still waiting on a few final adjustments to be made, but they should be fixed soon and then I’ll be sent the final contract. Once that is signed, we will be on our way.”
“And what if I can’t get pregnant?” I asked before I could stop myself. “What if after all of this—the money, the flights, the tests, the exercises, the medications—none of it works? What if you can never get me pregnant?”
He took a step forward. “Excuse me?”
Mistake. Another mistake. I shook my head. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“You are the problem here,” Gordon snapped, and just as quickly as he shot out those words, he grabbed at my throat with one hand, his fingers long and cold as he gripped at me.
My breath hitched as I tried to pull away from him, but that just made him cling on to me more.
There was nowhere to move, nowhere to run. An ugly, garbled sound was forced out of me, my too shaky hands reaching up to try and pry his off of me.
My heart was racing, the sound thudding in my ears as my toes twisted into the carpet. I was too used to this. To his hands on my neck. It never failed to terrify me, though, because every time he did it, all I could think was, this time he’s finally going to kill me.
“I… Gordon, I’m…” I coughed, and it was everything in me to force the words out, but they sounded all strained as my mouth dried up. “I’m sorry. Please.”
“You say a lot of stupid things sometimes, Juliette,” Gordon said, his teeth grinding together. “I really hate it when you do that. And you know I hate it too, but you just keep on doing it. Sometimes I feel like you try and piss me off on purpose.”
I said nothing. It was better to stay quiet, to keep my lips firmly pressed together, and the only thing I could focus on was how every breath that was escaping me literally made my lungs burn.
One wrong word and I could send him into another wild rage that would require even more concealer to mask and cover up.
Or worse. It could be worse, and as his grip on me tightened and I felt hot tears well in my eyes, part of me was sure it was going to end that way. That I’d get the worse ending tonight.
I knew how badly he wanted a baby, how he craved it.
It was for selfish reasons, all so he could get his hands on that sweet inheritance money, but I knew it was a shot to his ego and manhood every time I walked out of the bathroom with a negative pregnancy test. It hurt him more than he’d ever admit.
We were never meant to be together. It was bound to be a disaster from the get go, after my parents had desperately sold me off to him when I was eighteen.
It had been a way to have their daughter wear the last name of one of the wealthiest, most prestigious men in America.
It had also been a severe way of punishing me for all the mistakes I made back then.
When I fell in love with the boy I was never supposed to ever love but had wanted with my whole entire heart.
“Gordon,” I managed to say. My vision was getting blurry, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of his fingers digging into my throat or all the tears in my eyes.
Gordon drew in a quick breath. Then finger by finger, he let go. He was moving slowly on purpose, just like he always did when he choked me. It was a power move on his part, proof that he could drag it out as long as he wanted. A fun game for him. A terrifying one for me.
The last finger left my neck, and I finally let myself pull in some air I so eagerly needed. I was trying to stay steady, to not huff and puff so he wouldn’t get all of that satisfaction he got from hurting me, but all I could think about was how damn good it felt to get air into my lungs.
At least he didn’t dig his nails into my neck like he sometimes did. And he hadn’t held me all that long, so maybe I’d get away with no bruises this time. At least there was that.
“You need to be a better wife, Juliette,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I’m sure you know that. Is it so hard for you to follow rules? To be quieter? To be obedient? Is it that difficult for you?”
He snatched the heap of papers from my lap, eyes dragging across my body, slow and calculated. Don’t move. Don’t move. Stay still. Don’t piss him off. The rest of me stayed stiff, planted to my spot there on the seat, my eyes wide and unblinking.
Finally, he turned around. “I need a drink,” he said.
I watched Gordon walk away, his posture not at all stiff like it had been all night. In fact, he looked rather relaxed, like maybe his hand on my throat had been cathartic for him.
When he left the room, his footsteps disappearing, I finally got the chance to breathe properly.
My hands landed on my throat and I rubbed at the skin there that already felt tender and sore.
My neck had never got used to the feeling of his harsh, heavy hands squeezing and tightening on me.
It was one of his favorite things to do, and while I had experienced it so many times before, it never ceased to make me shudder from top to bottom.
Sitting up straighter, I kept pulling in breaths. Quick, trembly ones, but still, it helped, just like it did every time, until I could finally manage to suck in those longer ones that made the floor feel more steady.
My mind brought me back to that stupid brochure Gordon had thrown at me.
The photos of the clinic had looked gorgeous enough.
Bright, spacious, inviting, warm, all that open air.
Mountains in the distance, the grass and leaves a lush green, the sun warm on my skin.
The kind of views you only got in Switzerland.
Such a beautiful prison for me to be caged inside of.