Hot Summer Night

1 - Seraphine

Through the mirror, I stare at my reflection, wondering what I'd done wrong in life that got me to where I am today. I feel helpless, anxious, and, most of the time, paralyzed.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm Cinderella, who lives with her wicked stepmother and evil stepsisters, who treat me like a doormat, except that I don't live in a home with nefarious women. I live in a secured mansion filled with villainous men who control me and everything I do.

My heart dived into the pit of my belly, and my breathing hitched when my bedroom door opened—assuming it was the monster entering, looking to damage me some more. But when my eyes flickered to the corner of the mirror to the door and I saw who came in, my cut and broken lips let out a breath of relief.

Marla.

"Mr. Stevens asked me to help you with your hair and makeup." Annoyed, I lowered my head and closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, Seraphine. He was very adamant that I do so," she sighed.

Of course, he did.

In the six years, I've been married to Chadwick, he's never allowed me to style my hair how I'd like, let me choose what I wear, or allowed me to apply my own makeup for any parties he throws, claiming he has a reputation to uphold, fearing I'll botch my look and make him the laughing stock of his friends and the associates he's trying to impress.

Party or not, I'm still not allowed to dress and get ready on any given day.

Just once, I'd like to know what it's like to do my hair and makeup and choose my own outfit. To show Chadwick... Wait. That's not it. I want to prove to him that I can do all that and appease him on my own. I don't need anyone doing that for me just to make him happy and to ease his mind. That's my damn job.

I especially don't need one of his friend's wives making me look like them—like a snotty billionaire's wife. I've been with Chadwick long enough to know how he expects me to look when I'm in his presence and standing at his side. I wouldn't dare screw that up for him or for me.

I'm sick and tired of being smacked around for no reason.

Not wanting Marla's help, I avoided looking at her as I waved her off. "That's all right. I can do my hair and makeup." Particularly right now. I don't want her seeing my busted-up lips and the freshly new shiner highlighting my eyes—compliments of Chadwick.

I'm sure that's why he sent her to help me—to make her believe I've upset him again.

The thing is. I didn't do or say anything to upset Chadwick. He just decided to use me as his personal punching bag after receiving a phone call earlier that a company he was a silent investor in filed for bankruptcy, informing him that his personal assets are subject to seizure and sale to pay debtors and legal claims.

"Seraphine, look at me," Marla sternly commanded.

I shook my head.

She sighed. "What did he do this time?"

"Nothing," I lied, looking down at the makeup I'd lined up nicely on my vanity table, wondering which concealer would best cover Chadwick's angry hands.

"Did he hit you again?"

I didn't want to discuss what happened earlier with her and let out a long breath of annoyance. "Please. Just leave. Let me get ready on my own," I begged, avoiding her question. The last time Chadwick hit me, leaving bruises all over my body, she insisted... no, demanded that I leave him and that she'd help me flee.

It sounds promising, but the problem is that she and her husband are close with my husband, so I have a hard time trusting her whenever she brings up helping me leave Chadwick.