Gerald's laughter echoes through the room, a dark promise of what's to come.
Chapter 18
Alina
The Past – approximately 11 years ago
The chandelier's crystals refract the light, scattering it across the ballroom in a dizzying display. I pause to steady myself, smoothing my hands over the beaded bodice of my gown. The dress cinches too tight, and the heels are too high. Even the air feels perfumed and cloying, threatening to choke me. But this is how he likes me to look, how he insists I present myself. He'd have it no other way, and he always gets what he wants.
Luchenko appears at my side, his smile not reaching his cold eyes. "You look stunning, meelaya."
I stiffen, bile rising in my throat at the familiar endearment. This man had once made me feel safe, protected. Now his presence evokes nothing but dread.
"Don't call me that," I say sharply. "You lost the right long ago."
His expression remains impassive, but his fingers dig into my elbow. "I'll call you what I wish. I've always admiredthat defiant streak of yours, meelaya. Makes things more… exciting."
A shiver goes through me at the thinly veiled threat in his words. I survey the room, taking in the guests' sidelong glances and hushed whispers. They all know I'm nothing but Luchenko's plaything, a carnal distraction while his precious wife is out of town.
At first, it was embarrassing knowing that they knew. But, after so many parties spent embarrassed, shrinking like an expired flower in the corner of the room, shying away from the rumors, I decided to embrace it. To play the part of Luchenko's love interest, holding his hand and hanging off his arm and every word at these types of events.
Because it was much easier that way, I quickly learned. Luchenko has a massive ego, and having a young and attractive woman constantly by his side is part of the persona that he's so carefully curated. While his wife is out of town, at least.
At first, I was pampered. The finest clothing, jewels, food. Even a couple of vacations that were well-timed with his wife being off on extended family trips. He paid for everything I needed, no questions asked.
And I accepted the gifts, because I'd always had nothing and finally I had something.
And that felt really, really good.
But after only a month or so, everything changed. The world shifted on its axis.
My period didn't come.
I'd lost quite a lot of weight very quickly, because I know Luchenko prefers his women on the thinner side, so initially I put it down to that. But after a couple of weeks, there was still no sign and I started to notice subtle changes in my body. My breasts ached, my skin seemed different.
And deep down, I just knew.
Of course, it was hard to keep the pregnancy a secret. As my body continued to change, Luchenko noticed my growing belly and breasts. It's hard to hide the nausea caused by morning sickness. And, of course, he noticed I didn't have my period. Finally, he had his doctor visit and he confirmed my state.
The birth of our daughter only tightened Luchenko's hold. We called her Yara, which I told him means 'small butterfly', which is true. But what I didn't share is that it also means 'strong'.
Because I knew she would need to be strong, just like I would.
Luchenko immediately saw her as a possession, a means of controlling me. The thought of him molding her young mind, twisting it as he had my own...it made me ill.
Before, it was just me. He could hurt me, threaten me. Even threaten to hurt my mother, withholding her access to medications and restricting her food rations.
But with Yara here now, it's changed his sick game. He now has this thing to hold over me—this vulnerable being—and I've found myself completely at his mercy.
Trapped. The word echoes in my mind. But not for much longer. I will find a way out of this gilded cage, even if I have to claw my way free.
I force myself to smile, though it feels more like a grimace. "If you admire me so much, why do you insist on parading me around like one of your possessions?"
Luchenko's grip on my arm tightens painfully. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble meant only for me.
"Never forget who you belong to. All of this—" he gestures around the opulent ballroom "—exists because I allow it. And I can take it away just as easily."
I meet his cold gaze unflinchingly, anger simmering in my veins. "I belong to no one. Least of all you."