Richard’s Reprimand

Charlotte

As soon as Lucas left the room, a heavy silence settled like a suffocating weight. I couldn’t believe he had shown up, let alone that he had faced Richard like that. But the sense of relief Lucas’s presence brought quickly vanished, replaced by a cold fear as I realized what was coming next.

Richard stood beside the bed, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on the door through which Lucas had exited. The air around him seemed to hum with the tension of his restrained fury, making the room feel smaller and more oppressive. I could sense the storm brewing within him, and I knew his anger would soon be unleashed—directed squarely at me.

“Charlotte,” he finally spoke, his voice low, simmering with barely contained rage. The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine, each syllable dripping with a quiet menace. “What the hell were you thinking, letting him come here?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I struggled to find the right words to defend myself. But no words came. I was paralyzed by fear, knowing that whatever I said wouldn’t change the inevitable. Richard had already made up his mind, and I was the one to blame.

“Do you really think you can do whatever you want?” he continued, his voice growing louder, each word laced with a sharp edge. “That you can just receive visits from anyone, as if you still had some control over your life?”

I shrank back against the pillows, trying to make myself as small as possible under the weight of his words. Each accusation struck me like a physical blow, tearing down the fragile walls of my already shattered confidence. Richard took a step closer, looming over me, his eyes burning with a cold, unyielding fury.

“You belong to me, Charlotte,” he hissed, his voice now dangerously quiet, but the intensity of his anger had only grown. “There’s no room for anyone else in your life, especially not someone like Lucas.”

The way he spat Lucas’s name was as if it were a curse, something vile that had tainted what Richard considered his. I felt a chill run down my spine, the cold realization sinking in deeper. Lucas’s visit, intended as a lifeline, had instead become a source of torment. I had pulled him into this web of control and manipulation, and now, I was paying the price.

“I didn’t ask him to come,” I whispered, my voice trembling. It was the truth, but it felt like a feeble excuse in the face of Richard’s wrath. “He came on his own.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Richard snapped, cutting me off with a dismissive wave of his hand. His tone was sharp, merciless. “The fact that he thinks he can just show up here, that he has some right over you, is already a problem. And you did nothing to stop him.”

His words hit harder than I expected, the accusation stinging more deeply than any physical pain I had endured. He was right; I hadn’t done anything to stop Lucas. I hadn’t even tried. Because a part of me, buried beneath the layers of fear and submission, had wanted Lucas there, had needed to feel that someone still cared about me as a person, not just as a vessel for Richard’s heirs.

Richard’s eyes narrowed as he took another step back, crossing his arms over his chest in a stance that was both commanding and dismissive. He looked at me with something akin to disgust, as if I were a disobedient child who needed to be chastised.

“You need to understand, Charlotte,” he said, each word deliberate and icy, “that you are mine. Completely mine. There’s no room for distractions, for foolish feelings. All that matters are the twins, and you must be entirely focused on that.”

His declaration hung in the air, suffocating any remaining vestiges of defiance within me. I wanted to fight back, to assert my own worth, but the fear was overwhelming. Richard had me trapped in a cage of his own making, and I was too exhausted, too beaten down, to even think of escape.

But even as I nodded, even as I whispered the words of submission he wanted to hear—“I understand. It won’t happen again.”—a small, stubborn part of me refused to die. It flickered weakly in the depths of my soul, a spark of resistance that refused to be extinguished completely.

Richard studied me for a moment longer, his eyes searching my face for any sign of rebellion. Finally, he seemed satisfied with my acquiescence. He nodded curtly, his expression softening just a fraction, though the hardness in his gaze remained.

“It’s good that you understand,” he said, his tone now laced with a cold satisfaction. “Because you must remember, Charlotte, you belong to me. You are mine, and no one else’s.”

With that, he turned and left the room, his departure as abrupt as his entrance. The door clicked shut behind him, and I was left alone once more, the echo of his words reverberating in my mind.

For a long time, I didn’t move. I sat there, staring blankly at the sterile hospital walls, the weight of Richard’s ownership pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. The fear, the hopelessness, threatened to crush me entirely. But underneath it all, buried deep within, that small spark of defiance flickered on.

As I lay back down, pulling the thin blanket over my trembling body, I knew that I couldn’t allow Richard to destroy me completely. He may have taken almost everything from me—my freedom, my autonomy, my sense of self—but I couldn’t let him take the last remnants of my spirit.

I didn’t know how I would fight back, or if I even had the strength to do so. But as I closed my eyes, feeling the burn of unshed tears, I made a silent vow to myself. I would survive this. I would find a way to reclaim some piece of who I was, even if it took everything I had left.

Richard might think he owned me, but I would find a way to prove him wrong.