The Neglected Wife's Bloody Revenge Pact

The footsteps outside the door halted. The faint, metallic scrape of a key sliding into the lock echoed in the quiet room. The door didn't open. Instead, Hector the butler cleared his throat on the other side of the heavy wood. "Mrs. Knight," Hector said. His voice was flat, carrying the practiced, robotic tone of a professional servant. "There will be no dinner service for you tonight." Jenna walked silently to the door. She pressed her hands against the wood. "On whose authority, Hector?" she asked, her voice cold. "Mr. Knight gave specific instructions before his departure," Hector replied. "Until you calm down from this hysterical episode and are ready to communicate reasonably, all services to your suite, including food and water, have been suspended." Jenna's breath hitched. She was sickened that a grown man, the head of the household staff, was strictly enforcing such a cruel order. It crystallized her reality. In this house, even the staff saw her as nothing but livestock. Jenna didn't beg. She didn't scream curses at the door. She simply turned her back and walked away. She went straight to the master bathroom. Her throat was parched from the adrenaline and stress. She reached for the gold-plated faucet over the sink and twisted the handle. A hollow, hissing sound echoed from deep within the pipes. Not a single drop of water came out. She moved to the massive walk-in shower and twisted the heavy dials. Nothing. She checked the bathtub. Dry. Alonzo hadn't just locked her in. He had ordered the maintenance staff to shut off the main water valve to the master suite. A wave of dizziness washed over her. The lack of food and water was already beginning to drain her physical strength. Jenna leaned her back against the cold bathroom tiles. The memory of her lungs burning for oxygen on her deathbed assaulted her mind again. The fear instantly mutated into a violent, burning rage. She pushed herself off the wall. Her eyes were hard and focused. She marched back into the bedroom and walked straight to the massive King-size bed. She grabbed the edge of the thousand-dollar Egyptian cotton flat sheet and yanked it off the mattress. She bunched the fabric in her hands and pulled. The high-thread-count cotton was incredibly durable. She pulled the stainless steel eyebrow scissors from her tight jeans pocket. She dug the sharp, tiny blades into the thick hem of the sheet, sawing frantically until she managed to snip a small, jagged slit into the tough fabric. Using that tiny tear as a starting point, she gripped both sides and ripped her hands apart. Riiiip. The loud sound of tearing fabric filled the room. She tore the sheet into a long, thick strip. She repeated the process over and over. The rough friction of the heavy cotton burned her fingers. Red welts formed on her skin, and tiny drops of blood seeped from her cuticles, but she didn't feel the pain. She took the long strips of fabric and tied them together using tight, double-knotted square knots. She wrapped the fabric around her hands and pulled with her entire body weight to test the strength. She had a makeshift rope. She walked to the balcony's glass door. She ran her fingers along the bottom edge of the frame, feeling for the secondary mechanical latch. The electronic lock was dead, but she pulled the eyebrow scissors from her pocket. She jammed the sharp tip of the scissors into the tiny gap of the mechanical latch and twisted hard. The metal scraped and groaned. With a sharp click, the heavy deadbolt slid back. She grabbed the handle and shoved the heavy bulletproof glass door open. The cold night wind instantly rushed into the room, whipping her hair across her face. She dragged her cotton rope out onto the balcony. She wrapped one end tightly around the thick, marble Roman pillar that supported the railing. She tied three consecutive dead knots, pulling them as tight as her bleeding fingers allowed. She threw the rest of the rope over the edge. It unspooled and vanished into the darkness below. Jenna took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the freezing air. She climbed over the stone railing, gripped the fabric tight, and lowered her body until she was hanging suspended in the night wind.