Chapter 3Reading Your Gentleness

My attempt to curry favor had spectacularly backfired. I spent the rest of the reception in a state of terrified silence, moving like a puppet on a string.

After the festivities, I was whisked away to our new home, the bridal suite. The room was a cliché of newlywed bliss, dripping with the kind of opulence only serious money can buy. It had everything a lavish wedding demanded.

Except people.

The five-story mansion was a hollow, echoing shell. Not a single soul was present.

It was clear a "pawn" like me wasn't expected to just sit around prettily, waiting for the groom's return.

I found my suitcase in the second-floor bedroom, changed into a comfortable set of sweats, and scrubbed the thick makeup from my face. A long, hot shower washed away the last vestiges of the charade. Feeling refreshed and seeing the sky darken, I made my way to the kitchen.

Over the years, trailing my mother through her three marriages, my culinary skills had become my most developed talent. With each new husband, she would lose herself in a whirlwind of romance and hedonism, leaving me to fill the role of the unpaid housekeeper.

Some of my stepfathers, however, weren’t content with just a housekeeper. They’d wait until my mother was out, and their hands would start to wander.

Lyle was one of them.

Which is why, after learning of Daniel’s true intentions, a small, dark part of me was actually looking forward to the show.

Love from a man was irrelevant. Usefulness was all that mattered.