Chapter 2 When love becomes a prison

Isabella woke to her alarm and reached for her phone.

Seven forty.

She sat up fast. Sebastian expected his clothes ready before he came downstairs, and he never tolerated being kept waiting.

In the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then she looked in the mirror.

The marks on her neck had darkened overnight. Faint purple fingerprints, pressed into the skin like a signature.

She touched them gently. They ached.

For a moment she considered covering them with makeup. The housemaids didn't need to see. Nobody did.

She finished getting ready and returned to the bedroom. By the time she had laid out his white shirt, black trousers, and wristwatch on the bed, it was almost eight.

The door opened.

Sebastian walked in, eyes on his phone.

"Where are my clothes?"

"On the bed."

He glanced at them, then at her.

"Prepare my breakfast."

She turned towards the door.

"Isabella."

She stopped.

"No scenes like yesterday. We're having dinner at Derrick's tonight, and I expect you to behave."

She looked back at him.

"We just attended his wife's birthday."

He lowered the phone.

"Your point?"

"Nothing. I was only asking."

"Then stop asking unnecessary questions and do what you're told."

She left without answering.

She had barely reached the kitchen when her phone buzzed.

Rachael.

Can we meet today? I really want to see you.

Isabella read it twice. She wanted to see her. She also knew what Sebastian would say if she asked.

She typed back: I'll meet you this afternoon.

Then she put the phone away and started on breakfast.

----

She had just finished setting the table when he came in and sat down.

He picked up his fork, took one sip of coffee, and set the cup down.

"Why is the coffee cold?"

"I'm sorry. I'll make another."

She reached for the cup. He moved it out of her reach.

"Leave it."

She stood beside the table while he ate.

After a while, he looked up.

"You're quiet today."

"I'm tired."

"From what? Staying at home?"

She didn't answer.

He went back to his meal, and she took the chance to leave.

In the kitchen, she checked her phone again. Rachael had written back.

Isabella, whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm your friend.

She read it slowly.

For years she had told herself that keeping quiet protected her marriage. All it had done was isolate her. Nobody knew what happened behind the doors of this house.

She wanted to tell Rachael everything. She was also afraid of what Sebastian would do if he found out.

She was still staring at the screen when a voice came from the doorway.

"Who are you talking to?"

She turned.

Sebastian stood there, eyes fixed on the phone in her hand.

"I asked you a question."

"I'm not talking to anyone. I was reading a message."

"From whom?"

"Rachael."

He held out his hand.

"Give me your phone."

She stared at him.

"Why?"

His expression hardened.

"Did you just ask me why?"

"It's my phone, Sebastian."

Neither of them moved.

He stepped closer and held out his hand again.

"Give it to me."

She looked down at the screen. Rachael's messages were still there.

She could hand it over. That was what she usually did - hand it over, apologize, wait for him to calm down, and pretend the rest of the day hadn't happened.

But if she handed it over, he would read everything. He would stop her from seeing Rachael. He might stop her from seeing anyone.

"No!," she said.

The word surprised her as much as it surprised him.

"What did you say?"

"I said it's my phone. You have no reason to read my messages."

He reached for it. She pulled her hand back.

"Don't make this difficult," he warned.

"I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Then why are you acting like you have something to hide?"

"Because you never let me have anything to myself."

Her voice rose before she could stop it.

Sebastian glanced towards the dining room, then back at her.

"Lower your voice."

She swallowed. She knew that look. She had seen it before ,always right before he found a new way to make her regret disagreeing with him.

She didn't hand over the phone.

She put it in her pocket instead.

"If you want to know something, ask me. Don't expect me to give you everything just because we're married."

He said nothing for a moment.

Then he laughed. Short. Humourless.

"You seem to be forgetting yourself lately."

He turned and walked out.

Isabella stayed where she was, her heart pounding.

She hadn't won anything. He was still her husband. She still had to live with the consequences of challenging him.

But she had kept her phone.

She took it out and opened Rachael's messages.

I'll meet you this afternoon, she typed.

She sent it, put the phone away, and went back to the kitchen.

She didn't know how she would explain any of this to Rachael. She didn't know what would happen if Sebastian found out she was asking for help.

But she couldn't keep pretending everything was fine.

The marriage had cost her more than she had expected. Her money. Her privacy. The freedom to speak without first checking how he would react.

She didn't know how to get any of it back yet.

But she was beginning to understand that she had to try.