Chapter 3Madam of His Making

Julian still had the habit of blaming everything but himself. He blamed the tools for being useless, just as he blamed me for repeatedly failing his tests. He never once admitted to his lack of ability.

Whenever I complained that something in the house wasn't working, he accused me of wasting money and simply said that I didn't know how to use it. Yet he had no problem blowing that money at the gambling tables or spending it on his mistresses.

The only reason I put up with him for so long was that I had been betting on him passing his exams. I imagined myself becoming the wife of a successful man, eventually enjoying a comfortable life as a widow.

Looking back, putting my hopes on someone else was a colossal mistake.

By evening, he'd finally finished all the chores.

I nodded. "Starting tonight, you're going to work on your posture, the way you look at people, and the way you move."

I reached up and gently straightened his shoulders.

"Keep your shoulders level and your back straight. Lower your eyes slightly. You should look gentle and reserved, like a refined young man who's fallen on hard times—"

"You're shameless! I'm a respectable man! You can't expect me to act like some kind of flirt!" he roared, cutting me off.

I scoffed. "How exactly are you planning to pay the debt in three days, then? With your pride? Or with that mouth of yours that was only ever good for gambling?"

Julian's face turned an ugly shade of red. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he lunged at me.

"How do you know so much about this? Have you been seeing someone behind my back? Don't think I'll ever divorce you so you can run off with some other man!"

I ignored his outburst and simply reminded him that he still had a debt to pay. He was going to learn it whether he liked it or not.

That night, I was sleeping soundly when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my neck. A wave of suffocation washed over me.

I struck the attacker, knocking him to the floor. I reached under my pillow for the knife and raised it to strike.

Then I heard a familiar scream. I looked down and realized it was Julian.

I kicked him away. "Think carefully. If you kill me, who's going to pay off your debt?"

Julian clutched the wrist I had stepped on. His face turned pale as he scrambled to his feet and hurried out.

Just before closing the door, he looked back at me. He looked like a predator waiting for the right time to strike.

The next morning, the room looked as if it had been ransacked.

I looked at Julian, whose eyes kept darting around the room. He must have been looking for the contract that bound him to me. Too bad he'd never figure out where I'd hidden it.

For once, Julian didn't need me to tell him what to do. He got up and started cleaning the house on his own.

Over the next three days, I ground down every bit of pride he'd spent half his life clinging to.

The young man who had once never lifted a finger around the house before was now doing every chore himself. He'd even learned how to carry himself like a man who knew exactly how to draw a woman's attention.

At first, he fought me every step of the way.

But I cut off his food and threatened him whenever he resisted.

He'd gone hungry and cold, but in the end, he gave in.

I took a pale blue coat from the back of the wardrobe, made him put it on, then took him into town.

I didn't take him to a brothel. Avaline had taught me that if I wanted to sell something for a high price, I had to create demand. If I left people wanting more, they'd come to me.

I took Julian to the busiest stretch of river where wealthy women gathered. Boats filled with fashionable guests drifted by, and merchants came to relax.

I stationed him beside a stone bridge. All he had to do was play the part of a disappointed young scholar and gaze out over the river.

Julian's face twisted with anger.

"No, that's humiliating! Why don't you do it? Sleep with a wealthy merchant and get the money that way. You're my wife! If one night isn't enough, do ten! If that still doesn't work, just marry the crippled old man who lives east of town and become his second wife. If he hits you, I'll report him.

"Better yet, go home and threaten to kill yourself. Your dad will give you the money."

If I hadn't been worried about ruining his carefully crafted image, I would've slapped him.

"You better not make a scene. If we can't pay this debt, you might end up dead before I do."

He froze. He begrudgingly took his place on the bridge.

It didn't take long for people to start pointing at him. Some were impressed. Others felt sorry for him. Many were curious.

As I told his tragic story, more and more people came to see him. Soon, women secretly sent over gifts—money, purses, handkerchiefs—and invited Julian aboard for a private drink, offering to help him out.

He was embarrassed, but the money was too tempting to refuse.

I glanced at the debt collectors standing behind me and handed them the money. "See? My husband's worth a lot more than I am."

Had three days not been too short for a trip to the Reverbia, I would've taken Julian to the most notorious pleasure house there so that he could see what selling himself really meant.

It wasn't long before someone from one of the riverboats came to invite me aboard.

The moment the curtain was pulled aside, I nearly laughed.

Julian's clothes were hanging open. A clear handprint marked his cheek, and several faint red marks showed on his neck, as though someone had grabbed him.

The person sitting on the other side of the couch wasn't a woman at all. It was a man well past 50.

My amusement vanished the moment I felt a knife pressed against my throat.

"I happen to be the daughter of a senior government official. You'd better think carefully about what would happen if you hurt me."