C25 Welcome home dear wife

Sofia’s POV

The air in the room felt suffocating, heavy with the scent of Alex’s cologne and his mistress’s expensive perfume.

I tried to shift, to sit up properly, but my body protested, each bruise screaming in agony. Alex’s mistress, whose name I refused to say even in my thoughts, giggled as she leaned into him, her nails trailing along his chest.

“She’s so weak,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake pity. “It’s honestly a miracle she’s still alive.”

Alex smirked, his gaze flicking back to me. “She’s stubborn,” he mused as if I weren’t a person, just some object to be analyzed. “But stubbornness can be broken.”

My breath hitched as he suddenly moved forward, grabbing my arm and yanking me to my feet. Pain shot through my body, and my legs were barely able to hold me up.

“A-Alex—” I started, but before I could finish, he shoved me forward. My already weak legs buckled, and I crashed onto the cold marble floor, my hands scraping against the unforgiving surface.

Laughter rang out behind me.

“Oops,” his mistress giggled, mimicking her earlier cruelty. “Clumsy, clumsy Sofia.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to push myself up, but before I could, a sharp heel pressed into my fingers—again.

I gasped, my vision blurring as unbearable pain shot up my arm.

“Oh dear, you really are slow,” she murmured, pressing down harder, twisting her foot slightly so the pointed heel dug deeper into my skin.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I bit my lip, refusing to scream.

“Oh?” Alex’s voice was suddenly above me, mocking curiosity in his tone. “No screaming this time?”

His mistress pouted. “That’s no fun.” Alex chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’ll break.”

And then, before I could even brace myself, I felt it.

A sharp, stinging slap across my face.

The force of it sent me sprawling onto my side, my cheek burning, my ears ringing.

My breath came out in shallow gasps, and I could feel the warm trickle of blood from my split lip.

Alex knelt beside me, grabbing my face in his hands, and forcing me to look at him. His dark eyes gleamed with something sickening. Enjoyment.

“You should know better than to defy me,” he murmured, his fingers pressing painfully into my bruised jaw.

I met his gaze, my own eyes filled with nothing but silent hatred.

His grip tightened. “Say it,” he ordered.

I knew what he wanted.

“I won’t,” I whispered. His expression darkened.

His mistress sighed dramatically. “She’s so stubborn. Can’t we just lock her in the basement or something? Or better yet—” She leaned closer, a sick smile playing on her lips. “I heard the servants are looking for someone to scrub the toilets.”

Alex chuckled. “You hear that, Sofia? Maybe I should put you to work. Let you experience what it feels like to be truly worthless.”

I forced out a ragged breath, refusing to let them see how much their words cut.

“Oh, but wait,” his mistress gasped, clapping her hands together like she’d just had the best idea. “What if we made her serve us? Imagine it, Alex—her bringing us our meals, cleaning up after us, standing silently as we enjoy each other’s company.”

She smirked down at me. “What do you think, Sofia? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

I didn’t answer.

Alex sighed, his thumb tracing along my cheek before he suddenly gripped my hair, pulling me up by the strands.

I yelped, my hands flying up to grasp his wrist, but he didn’t let go.

Instead, he dragged me toward the bed and forced me down onto my knees in front of him.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “From now on, you will serve us. Every meal. Every drink. Every little thing we ask for.”

I trembled, my nails digging into my palms.

“You’ll wake up before sunrise, clean this house, cook for us, and if you make even the smallest mistake…” He leaned in, his breath ghosting against my ear.

“I’ll make sure you regret it.” My body shook, not just from fear, but from the sheer helplessness of it all.

"I—I'm supposed to be your wife, Alex, you cannot do this to me..." I screamed, my lungs dry with the tears I'd been shedding.

"Wife my ass," His mistress spat, her palms hitting my face again.

"I'm the only one who gets to be that and just because I'm not it yet, doesn't mean I won't be," She scowled, standing akimbo.

"Don't worry, she's just a clown," Alex said, cooing her.

His mistress hummed happily. “Oh, this will be so much fun.”

She suddenly grabbed the nearby glass of wine from the bedside table, swirling it in her hand.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed the entire drink onto me.

The cold liquid soaked my clothes instantly, the strong scent of alcohol burning my nose.

I gasped, shivering as she giggled. “Oops. Guess you should start cleaning right away.”

Alex stepped back, giving me one last glance. “Welcome home, wife.”

And with that, they turned and walked out, leaving me on the floor, drenched in wine, my body aching and my heart shattered.

The sting of air on my face stung harder as a result of the tears on my face from their numerous hits.

I wobbled up from the floor to the mirror in the room.

Bruised face, swollen hands, and feet, and ragged hair.

Maybe—just maybe, it was my body that was going to be taken home.

Dead instead of alive.