My Father Sold Me To A Man Three Times My Size — On Our Wedding Night, I Discovered His Secret
Part 1
The stiff boning of my wedding dress dug into my ribs like a dull knife.
I was eighteen years old, standing in front of a mirror, watching my youth being traded for a ledger full of forgiven debts.
My mother, Brenda, stood behind me, yanking the laces with a desperate, practiced violence.
She smelled of stale gin and peppermint mints.
Stop squirming, she hissed, her knuckles turning white.
You will walk down that aisle looking like a bride, not a prisoner on her way to the gallows.
I stared at the pale, powdered stranger in the glass.
My father’s gambling had eaten our family hollow.
The only asset left of any real value was me.
Craig, the reclusive heir to the Oak Haven empire, had stepped in.
He had bought my family’s debts for a sum that made me nauseous to think about.
In exchange, he wanted a wife.
The heavy doors of the church groaned inward.
The air inside smelled suffocatingly sweet, like burning beeswax and dying roses.
I walked down the aisle, feeling the weight of a hundred stares heavy and abrasive against my skin.
I heard the whispers from the pews.
Look at the size of him.
Like throwing a sparrow to a bear.
I kept my chin level, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a tremor.
Craig was a mountain of a man.
His custom suit stretched taut across his massive shoulders and heavy stomach.
Perspiration beaded at his temples in the candlelight.
Disgust curled in my stomach.
My father handed me off with a brisk, eager shove.
I stumbled, bracing myself for a crushing grip.
The hand that caught my elbow was startlingly gentle.
I looked up.
Craig’s face was flushed red, a slight wheeze rattling in his heavy chest.
His eyes caught mine for a fraction of a second.
I saw intense, agonizing humiliation in them.
He knew exactly what the room was whispering.
When he slid the heavy gold ring onto my finger, his grip was incredibly careful.
We rode to his isolated estate in complete silence.
The night had turned bitter, freezing rain lashing against the windows of the town car.
His sheer size meant he took up more than half the leather seat.
I pressed myself against the opposite door, shivering in the dark.
Craig reached up slowly and pulled down a thick wool blanket.
He didn’t toss it at me or lean into my space.
He simply held it out, his large hand suspended in the dim gap between us.
You are shivering, Megan, he said quietly.
It was the first time he had used my name.
I snatched the blanket, careful not to let our fingers touch.
We will be at Oak Haven soon, he said, settling back into his corner.
I have instructed the staff to prepare your own wing of the house.
You will not be disturbed tonight.
My head snapped up.
The knot of sheer terror in my stomach loosened, instantly replaced by a deep, pulsing confusion.
Why buy a bride if not to claim her?
The rain was a relentless downpour when we arrived.
A maid showed me to a cavernous, empty bedroom and unlaced my dress.
I sat on the edge of the massive bed, wrapped in a thick cotton robe.
I was a wife, and my husband had locked me away in a wing completely separate from his own.
The contradiction gnawed at me.
I pushed myself off the mattress.
The floorboards were shockingly cold against my bare feet.
I needed to know the layout of my cage.
I crept down the long, winding hallway, keeping my hand pressed flat against the wall.
A sliver of golden light spilled across the floorboards from a door left slightly ajar.
A low, rhythmic wheezing drifted out into the quiet hall.
I leaned my weight against the doorframe and peered through the crack.
Craig sat behind a massive mahogany desk.
He had discarded his formal coat.
His face was carved with deep lines of pain, a sheen of cold sweat gleaming on his forehead.
He set a glass down with a violently trembling hand.
A low, ragged groan scraped its way out of his throat.
He reached toward a small wooden box on his desk, fumbling with the latch.
The box tipped, spilling several small, dark glass medicine vials across the wood.
One rolled off the edge, shattering against the floorboards with a sharp crack.
Craig froze.
His eyes snapped open, darting toward the doorway.
I pushed the door fully open.
You bought me, I said, my voice dropping into a flat, steady register.
I walked straight to his desk, my bare heel crushing a shard of broken glass.
I spent my entire wedding day waiting for the trap to spring, waiting for you to force your hands on me.
And now I find you hiding in the dark.
I placed my hands flat on the icy polished wood.
Tell me what I was purchased for.
