Chapter 4: The Dress That Hurt
“I don’t like this.””
I looked at myself in the mirror and immediately knew something was wrong.
The dress was beautiful.
That was the problem.
Beautiful things could still hurt you.
Celeste stood behind me, adjusting the fabric.
“You’ll get used to it.””
I looked down.
The dress had a structured corset underneath.
Too structured.
Too tight.
“I’m pregnant.””
She smiled.
“And that’s exactly why we need support.””
Support.
That word sounded harmless.
But my ribs were already aching.
“I don’t think this is safe.””
Celeste’s expression changed slightly.
Not much.
Just enough.
“Rachel, I’ve dressed women in your position before.””
“My position?””
She sighed.
“Women married into powerful families.””
There it was.
Not my pregnancy.
Not my comfort.
My image.
I looked at her through the mirror.
“Did Darius ask for this?””
A pause.
Tiny.
But I saw it.
“He wants the family represented properly.””
My stomach tightened.
The pain in my ribs suddenly felt smaller than the disappointment in my chest.
Because I believed her.
I believed that Darius, the man who once told me I was not a transaction, now cared about appearances.
I stood there while she tightened the corset another inch.
The pressure became unbearable.
“Stop.””
She ignored me.
“Almost finished.””
“I said stop.””
This time my voice was sharper.
She finally stepped back.
“There.””
I looked at myself.
The woman staring back looked elegant.
Controlled.
Perfect.
And completely uncomfortable.
I hated that I cared.
I hated that a small part of me still wanted Darius to walk in and say I looked beautiful.
Not acceptable.
Not presentable.
Beautiful.
But when he arrived, he only looked at the dress.
Not me.
And I saw what I feared.
A flicker of concern.
Then distance.
“You’re ready?””
That was all he said.
I forced a smile.
“Apparently.””
He frowned.
But before he could ask, Celeste stepped forward.
“Everything is exactly as requested.””
Darius nodded.
And that was enough.
Enough for me to believe the lie.
The gala was everything people expected from the King name.
Crystal lights.
Expensive suits.
Women wearing gowns worth more than cars.
Men shaking hands while secretly measuring each other’s power.
I stood beside Darius and smiled for photographs.
But underneath the dress, my ribs burned.
Every breath reminded me of the corset.
Every movement hurt.
Darius noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You okay?””
The question almost broke me.
Because I wanted to tell him.
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to say your people hurt me.
I wanted to say I thought you asked them to.
Instead, I smiled.
“I’m fine.””
A lie.
The same kind of lie he had been telling me.
Later that evening, I finally escaped to a quiet hallway.
I pressed my hand against my side.
The pain had become sharp.
When I returned home, I immediately changed clothes.
And that was when I saw them.
The bruises.
Dark marks along my ribs.
Proof that something meant to make me look perfect had actually harmed me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared.
Then I cried.
Not because of the pain.
Because I realized I had stopped trusting my own husband.
The next morning, Darius walked into the bedroom while I was changing.
He froze.
His eyes dropped to the bruises.
Everything in his face changed.
“Rachel.””
I pulled my robe closed.
“Don’t.””
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What happened?””
I laughed bitterly.
“You tell me.””
His expression hardened.
“Who did this?””
I looked away.
“You don’t have to pretend.””
“Pretend what?””
“That you didn’t know.””
For several seconds, he didn’t move.
Then he said the words that made my heart stop.
“I would never do this to you.””
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But the damage was already done.
May you like
Because while Darius had been fighting enemies outside our home…
someone inside his world had convinced me that he was one of them.
