ALLURA'S POV
The lightning flashes were the only thing that gave the night sky any substance, momentarily ripping the darkness apart to reveal the house. My grand mansion—or what should have been mine—stood there in its full, oppressive power, ignoring the heavy downpour. Outside, the rain poured over the perfectly manicured shrubs and lawn, all lit up by bright, unforgiving lights that illuminated every corner and offered no shadow for comfort.
Inside, I saw the maids moving with a mechanical precision, decorating the entire place for some grand affair. They worked with a mix of caution and, I noticed with a sharp pang, an underlying fear that I knew all too well.
I was rushing down the stairs now. My face felt drawn, pale and bare without makeup, and my skin was sickly against the cheap yellow dress I wore. It hung on me, revealing the sharp lines of my collarbone, making me look weak and frail. I was the mistress of this house, yet I was no better than a servant. Honestly, some of the maids who worked here were far more comfortable than I was. But I endured it all, didn't I? I swallowed the bitterness for the sake of the love I still desperately held for my husband, Magnus Cooper Dawson, the CEO of Frost Industries.
There was a time I was the driving force behind his success. That was back when I was just my father's daughter, the heiress of Frost Enterprise. Three years ago, everything changed. Now I'm reduced to this—a mere servant under the disguise of a married wife to the man who took it all. My in-laws, who once swore loyalty to my family, turned the moment I married their son, against my father's dying wishes. Three months later, a car accident claimed my parents and two siblings. My only other sibling, Elizabeth, survived, they said, but her body was never found. And right after that, Magnus seized control of my family's wealth, and the so-called good in-laws finally showed me their true, cruel nature.
My vile mother-in-law had made away with all my mother's precious jewellery, and mine too, right before my eyes. My villas and cars were sold off. Yet, I kept convincing myself I was still in love with this cruel beast in human form.
I walked down the stairs barefoot. The ground itself felt like it was prickling my soles; each step was painful, exhausting. I hadn't eaten in three days. No one had brought me water or food—all had been strictly instructed to deny my wishes.
"Anna, where is my husband?" I asked, hoping for an answer. As expected, she fled, leaving me alone to curse under my breath. "Everyone in this house is nothing but a maniac."
I made my way toward his study. I heard moans coming from inside, but the truth didn't hit me until I opened the door. There was my best friend, Tasha Seymour, his secretary, in a compromised position with my husband.
My blood ran cold. My heart stopped for a second; my breathing seized. I forgot how to inhale. My pupils dilated at the horrifying scene, and to make matters worse, they carried on as if I wasn't even there.
Magnus, the son of a whore, pulled out, stark naked, as my so-called best friend giggled, staring straight at me. "You see, Allura, you didn't even tell me he was this good in bed. Here I was dating the wrong men while you, of all people, had it all," she said begrudgingly before sliding off the desk and wrapping her arms around Magnus.
"Oh, babe, I forgot to tell you—I haven't even had sex with this old hag for one second," Magnus said. They both dared to laugh directly at my face.
"You two good-for-nothing psychopaths and cheating whores!" I cursed violently, walking toward them. I grabbed a golf stick from his collection. They had forgotten not to mess with me. They had forgotten my bipolar and IED—a disorder that compels me to ruin things on impulse. Because of love, I had suppressed them, but today was the final straw.
I launched myself at them, ready to destroy everything in my way, but my weak frame betrayed me. Magnus quickly shoved the golf stick aside. As he did, a sharp pain erupted in my head, and I felt blood begin to ooze, trickling down my face. I spun around to see Tasha holding a golf stick.
My body turned cold. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to give them the satisfaction. "Tasha, how could you?" I whispered before my knees buckled, leaving me kneeling on the floor.
"You don't deserve anything good," she spat, preparing to hit me again, but Magnus stopped her.
"No, I was planning to send her over as a gift to Lucas Turner, assistant head of the Giovanni Mafia. It's his birthday, and I've been invited. We'll earn more money."
"Good idea! What are we waiting for?" Tasha asked, pecking his lips. "See, Allura? You can never make a man happy, nor can you do anything. Even your man prefers me over trash like you."
I chuckled, shocking her. "You prefer leftovers rather than dining with the kings." She frowned, and so did Magnus, who shoved me hard with his foot. "Magnus is my leftover. And leftovers can only be fed to the trash can, where they belong."
"Enough with the prep talk! You're going to make us a huge deal of money, so at least shut the fuck up," Magnus yelled, walking toward his telephone. Soon after, guards stood at the door, awaiting his verdict.