The Caged Wife's Flight Plan - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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Blood oozed from the box, shockingly crimson. I stared at the mutilated puppy, my vision swimming for a moment as memories flooded back.
They'd brought me to the Monroe estate when I was just eighteen - barely more than a child myself, completely unprepared to raise one. Little Stephan cried nonstop until I found him that puppy. For years, the toddler trailed after me everywhere, clutching his furry companion, declaring us the most important things in his world.
Now, eight years later, that same boy had butchered the dog with his own hands. Shattering my heart in the process.
I drew a shaky breath and met Stephan's gaze. "Fine. You win. I'll be gone by morning."
Sonny's smooth voice cut through the tension before I'd finished speaking. "Leaving?" He strolled closer, the very picture of aristocratic indifference. "Really, Meredith, throwing a tantrum over some mongrel and a child?"
He settled into his favorite chair by the entrance, waiting expectantly for me to remove his shoes and coat as usual. When I didn't move, his brow furrowed with irritation. "Stephan apologized. What more do you want?" His voice turned dangerous. "Have years of luxury made you forget your place?"
Stephan stuck out his tongue and scampered off while Sonny pulled me roughly against him. His hands roamed my body without care for my recent miscarriage. "Don't be difficult, darling," he murmured against my neck. "You know how fortunate you are. A nobody like you, living like this? You should focus on keeping me happy."
In his mind, I should be grateful - an orphan plucked from obscurity to serve as his live-in nanny and bedwarmer. Normally, I played along. But not today.
"Mr. Monroe," I said, meeting his eyes squarely, "our contract has expired."
His grip on my thigh tightened painfully, all pretense of affection gone. "Watch your tone," he hissed. "I didn't cancel meetings to come home to this." His fingers dug into my cheeks. "That face might resemble hers, but don't mistake it for leverage. You're just a stand-in."
"Her" meant Jennie - Stephan's mother, Sonny's beloved late wife. When cancer took her, the Monroes had scoured the country until they found me, an uncanny lookalike. Sonny never loved me, but he couldn't resist my Jennie-like features and youthful body.
"Jennie died at twenty-six," he'd explained when drafting our agreement. "I only want to remember her that way. Stay eight years, and you can leave wealthy." A pretty lie. The truth? He'd want a fresher replica before I hit twenty-five.
I wrenched free and produced the divorce papers from my bedroom.
They'd brought me to the Monroe estate when I was just eighteen - barely more than a child myself, completely unprepared to raise one. Little Stephan cried nonstop until I found him that puppy. For years, the toddler trailed after me everywhere, clutching his furry companion, declaring us the most important things in his world.
Now, eight years later, that same boy had butchered the dog with his own hands. Shattering my heart in the process.
I drew a shaky breath and met Stephan's gaze. "Fine. You win. I'll be gone by morning."
Sonny's smooth voice cut through the tension before I'd finished speaking. "Leaving?" He strolled closer, the very picture of aristocratic indifference. "Really, Meredith, throwing a tantrum over some mongrel and a child?"
He settled into his favorite chair by the entrance, waiting expectantly for me to remove his shoes and coat as usual. When I didn't move, his brow furrowed with irritation. "Stephan apologized. What more do you want?" His voice turned dangerous. "Have years of luxury made you forget your place?"
Stephan stuck out his tongue and scampered off while Sonny pulled me roughly against him. His hands roamed my body without care for my recent miscarriage. "Don't be difficult, darling," he murmured against my neck. "You know how fortunate you are. A nobody like you, living like this? You should focus on keeping me happy."
In his mind, I should be grateful - an orphan plucked from obscurity to serve as his live-in nanny and bedwarmer. Normally, I played along. But not today.
"Mr. Monroe," I said, meeting his eyes squarely, "our contract has expired."
His grip on my thigh tightened painfully, all pretense of affection gone. "Watch your tone," he hissed. "I didn't cancel meetings to come home to this." His fingers dug into my cheeks. "That face might resemble hers, but don't mistake it for leverage. You're just a stand-in."
"Her" meant Jennie - Stephan's mother, Sonny's beloved late wife. When cancer took her, the Monroes had scoured the country until they found me, an uncanny lookalike. Sonny never loved me, but he couldn't resist my Jennie-like features and youthful body.
"Jennie died at twenty-six," he'd explained when drafting our agreement. "I only want to remember her that way. Stay eight years, and you can leave wealthy." A pretty lie. The truth? He'd want a fresher replica before I hit twenty-five.
I wrenched free and produced the divorce papers from my bedroom.
End of The Caged Wife's Flight Plan Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to The Caged Wife's Flight Plan book page.