Page 17 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
I tried to adjust, but the position was wrong—my shoulders pulled back too far, the chain cutting into my wrists every time I shifted.
The room filled with thick, heavy smoke that swallowed the air around me.
Each breath tasted contaminated, making it harder to think clearly.
“I see you’re stubborn,” Bruno muttered as he paced back and forth in front of me, each heavy step carrying the sharp edge of barely restrained anger while he sneered, “Just like they said—the blind intern with too much pride.”
He moved even closer to me—so close I nearly retched from the suffocating proximity—before stepping away again.
“But that’s alright,” he went on, almost thoughtfully now. “I like breaking things that think they’re strong.”
My jaw tightened.
The chain between my wrists shifted as my fingers curled slightly, testing the restraint.
No give.
Of course not.
“I’ll break that pride,” Bruno said, more quietly now—but the softness made it worse. “Piece by piece if I have to.”
He stopped moving.
I could feel it—the stillness, the focus of his attention locking onto me like a weight pressing down on my chest.
“I’ll crush every bit of ego in you,” he added, voice dropping lower, darker, “until you’re crawling at my feet... begging.”
Silence stretched between us while my heartbeat filled it—slow, loud, and painfully controlled.
“And tomorrow...” he continued, his tone shifting again—colder. “At the office—”
“When I walk in, you’ll drop to your knees right in front of everyone who watched you fight back today, and you’ll apologize loud enough for every person in that room to hear exactly how badly you were broken.”
“You’ll tell them,” Bruno continued, almost lazily now, like he was reciting something already decided, “that you’re nothing but a worthless, blind little slut who doesn’t know her place.”
The words hung in the air—ugly, rotten, and waiting to crush whatever was left of me.
I said nothing.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the response he was waiting for.
Instead, I faced the darkness that had been my world for months.
I had survived things far worse than Bruno and whatever twisted method he intended to use to break me.
The ghosts of my past still lived beneath my skin, buried deep where I prayed they would remain, and compared to that pain, his cruelty felt small.
No—Bruno would not break me. He could not.
Working as an intern in his brother’s company did not give him the right to strip away my dignity as though I were less than human.
And I wasn’t born blind.
Once, I had been able to see.
But then there was my father—my cruel, heartless, monstrous father.
My throat tightened violently at the thought of him, and I forced the memories down before they could fully surface, but memories never stayed buried once they were summoned.
