Invisible Chains

Charlotte

The days following Richard's departure were marked by a profound change in my routine. Before his trip, he had forced me to sign the clause that required me to quit my job and remain confined to the mansion throughout the pregnancy. With that, the sense of isolation that had already been strong became even more oppressive, and the reality of my new life began to weigh on me with overwhelming force.

My life, which had once had some purpose through work, now revolved around following Richard's orders and enduring Marta's constant visits. The independence I once had, even if limited, was ripped away from me without the slightest ceremony. The feeling of being reduced to nothing more than a means to an end intensified, becoming almost unbearable.

In the first mornings after the change, I would still wake up intending to get ready for work, only to remember, with a growing pain, that there was no job to go to anymore. I was trapped in that mansion, with no possibility of escape, and with each passing day, the sense of uselessness grew inside me.

I wandered the halls of the house, trying to find something to fill the void I felt. The days were long, each second seeming to drag on, and I felt more like a prisoner than the wife of a powerful man. Work had been my escape valve, a way to feel useful, to have something that was mine. Now, even that had been taken from me.

Marta, as always, took every opportunity to remind me of my new role. "Now that you've finally abandoned that meaningless job," she would say, with her characteristic tone of superiority, "you can focus on what really matters. This family, this heir that you must bear, are your only priorities."

She spoke these words as if she were granting me a gift when in reality, she was burying me deeper into a life I hadn't chosen. It was as if every decision, every movement, was dictated by Marta and Richard, leaving no room for my own will. The idea of living exclusively for them, for the purpose they had set, filled me with a silent revolt.

The lack of autonomy was devastating. I no longer had a voice over my own body, my own life. Everything was in the hands of Richard and Marta. They decided that my work didn't matter, that my life outside the walls of that mansion was irrelevant. The world outside kept turning, but I was locked in a bubble, where every second was controlled by someone who wasn’t me.

One afternoon, as I wandered aimlessly through the gardens, the reality of my situation hit me with full force. I had spent years building my career, striving to achieve something for myself. Now, all of that seemed distant, almost as if it belonged to another life. A life I would never recover.

I knew that, to Richard, my career had never meant anything. He saw it as a distraction, something that kept me from the role he had designated for me. Abandoning work was a cold and calculated decision, intended to ensure that I was completely under his control, living exclusively for the purpose he had determined.

The hatred I began to feel for Richard was so intense that sometimes I found myself trembling with anger. How could he be so selfish, so ruthless? He never cared about what I wanted, about who I was. To him, I was just a means to an end, a piece in a power game I never asked to play.

The thought of spending the next few months in this gilded prison, living only to satisfy Richard and Marta's desires, was suffocating. The mansion, with all its luxury, was nothing more than a cage, and I was the bird trapped inside. My identity was slowly being erased, replaced by a version of myself that existed only to serve their interests.

I began to realize that if I didn't do something, I would completely lose who I was. I needed to find a way to resist, to preserve at least a part of myself in this process. Living exclusively for Richard and Marta was not an option I was willing to accept passively.

That night, as I stared at the ceiling of my room, I decided that while I might not be able to escape physically, I needed to fight to keep my sanity and identity intact. I would start using the time I had to plan, to think of a way to turn the situation in my favor.

Marta and Richard might think they had won, that they had reduced me to a mere piece on their board, but I still had something they couldn’t control: my determination. I knew it would be a long and difficult fight, but I was ready to face every challenge that arose.

I wouldn’t let them destroy me. Even living by their rules, even confined to an existence I didn’t choose, I would find a way to reclaim what was mine. And when the right moment came, I would be ready to fight for my freedom, for my life.

From that moment on, I began to see every interaction, every order, every criticism from Marta, as part of a game I needed to learn to play. I would feign compliance, do whatever it took to survive, but I would never give up on finding a way out. After all, even in the most luxurious prison, there was still room for resistance, and I was determined to resist until the end.