The Idiot Bride And Her Crippled Tyrant

Howard swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He forced the corners of his mouth up into a stiff, unnatural smile. He stepped closer to Areli, ignoring the mud soaking through his socks.

Areli shrank back. Her shoulders hunched up to her ears. She hid her mud-caked hands behind her back, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

Howard softened his voice, making it high and slow. "Areli. I'm taking you home. Back to New York. To a big house. We have candy there. So much candy. You can eat it every day."

At the word 'candy', Areli's vacant eyes widened. A spark of manic excitement lit up her face. She pulled her hands from behind her back and started clapping loudly. She jumped up and down in the mud.

Thick droplets of dirty water splashed up, hitting Howard's tailored trousers.

Howard's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. His fingers twitched. He forced his hands into his pockets. "Go get your things. Now."

Areli cheered. She spun around and sprinted toward the rotting cabin. She pushed the wooden door. It screamed on rusted hinges and slammed shut behind her.

The moment the door clicked into the frame, the idiot smile vanished from Areli's face.

The manic energy drained from her muscles. Her spine straightened. Her eyes sharpened into a cold, lethal glare.

She walked to the cracked ceramic washbasin in the corner. She turned the rusted knob. Brown water sputtered out. She scrubbed the mud from her hands and face with quick, efficient movements.

She walked to the sagging mattress on the floor. She knelt, her fingers digging into a tear in the fabric underneath the frame.

She pulled out a small, sleek, high-tech communication device. It was no bigger than a coin, matte black and completely out of place in the squalor.

Areli unbuttoned the top of her dress and slipped the device into the hidden lining of her bra, pressing it flat against her ribs.

She grabbed a frayed plastic woven sack from the corner. She shoved three faded, oversized shirts into it.

Before opening the door, Areli let her shoulders drop. She took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the icy sharpness in her gaze dissolve into a dull, cloudy haze. The lethal precision in her posture vanished as she forced her spine to curve.

She walked out of the cabin, clutching the plastic sack to her chest, the vacant smile back on her face.

Howard stared at the filthy bag. He waved his hand at his driver. "Put that trash in the trunk."

The driver stepped forward, his face pale. He wore white cotton gloves. He reached out with two fingers, pinching the top of the bag as if it were a biohazard.

Areli yanked the bag back. She hugged it tight against her chest and opened her mouth, letting out a piercing, ear-splitting wail.

"No! My rocks! My pretty rocks are inside!" she sobbed, stomping her foot in the mud.

Howard rubbed his temples. A sharp headache pulsed behind his eyes. "Just let her keep it. Get her in the car."

The driver opened the heavy rear door of the Maybach. Howard grabbed Areli's arm and shoved her roughly onto the plush leather seat.

Howard climbed in after her, sliding as far to the opposite side of the cabin as physically possible.

Areli's muddy shoes smeared across the pristine cream-colored floor mats. The damp, sour smell of the farm instantly filled the enclosed space.

The car shifted into gear and pulled away from the cabin.

Areli pressed her face against the tinted window. She waved frantically at a rotting scarecrow in the field, giggling to herself.

Howard pressed a button on the armrest. The soundproof partition glided up, sealing them off from the driver.

Howard looked at Areli, his voice dripping with condescension. "Listen to me. You are going to be a good girl. In a few days, you are going to marry a very rich man."

Areli slowly turned her head. She tilted it to the side and stuck her dirty thumb into her mouth. She chewed on her fingernail. "Rich man? Will he buy me a hundred ice creams?" she mumbled around her thumb.

Howard scoffed. "If you keep your mouth shut and do what you're told, he can buy you the whole damn ice cream factory."

Areli squealed. She threw herself sideways, rolling across the wide leather seat. Her muddy dress left dark, wet streaks across the expensive upholstery.

Howard squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head back against the headrest, exhausted by her stupidity. He didn't want to look at her for another second.

The car hummed steadily along the highway.

Once Howard's breathing deepened into a soft snore, Areli stopped rolling.

She sat up slowly. She slid back into her corner of the seat.

She turned her head toward the window. The trees blurred past in a rush of green and brown. Her pupils focused sharply on her own reflection in the glass.

She reached up, pretending to scratch her collarbone. Her fingers brushed against the hard edge of the comms device hidden in her bra. A tiny vibration confirmed it was active.

She stared out the window. Her pulse beat steady and calm in her throat.

She wasn't just going back to New York to find out who cut the brake lines on her mother's car ten years ago. She was going back to tear the Battle family down to the studs.

And Finn Branch—the violent, paralyzed billionaire they were selling her to—was going to be her perfect shield.

The cabin was dead silent, save for Howard's snoring.

In the rearview mirror, Areli's face was half-swallowed by shadows. The corner of her mouth pulled up into a slow, terrifying smirk.