The Rightful Wife

In the opulent, brightly lit living room, Agnes's scrutinizing gaze remained fixed on Kendall. "You need to focus on bearing a Vance child," Agnes pressed, her tone suffocating. "You should work harder. Bear him a child, and he will come home naturally instead of staying out late."

She ignored the deepening frown on her husband's face. Arthur sat rigid in his leather armchair, his displeasure evident in the tight line of his jaw. He had been an upright man all his life and despised this kind of coercion. Even if Kendall wanted to have a child, Declan would have to be a willing party.

Hoping to defuse the escalating tension before he lost his temper, Arthur cleared his throat loudly. He shifted his weight and directed the conversation away from Kendall's womb. "Kendall, there are some scandalous rumors swirling among the city's elite recently regarding Declan and a certain returned ex-girlfriend. What do you make of them?"

Kendall kept her hands folded in her lap. Years of practiced, subservient acting kicked in. She maintained her meek, supportive demeanor, masking the exhaustion gnawing at her bones. "I trust that Declan will handle it well," she replied softly.

Her textbook answer pleased Arthur. He nodded his head in firm approval, shooting a pointed glare at his wife. "Ignore what the foolish masses outside are saying," he declared, his voice booming with unquestionable authority. "You are the one and only granddaughter-in-law the Vance Family officially acknowledges. That woman who isn't recognized by us will never be allowed to enter our doors."

Agnes's face tightened. She hated losing control of the narrative. Standing up abruptly, she smoothed down her pristine skirt. "I will go check on dinner," she announced tight-lipped, using the excuse to hurry off toward the massive kitchen.

Once her oppressive presence faded from the room, Arthur's stern eyes softened as he looked at Kendall. He let out a long sigh, noting the dim look in her eyes. "Don't take my wife's nagging to heart," he urged gently. "She just wants you and Declan to have a blissful, complete family of your own. How is your grandmother, Miriam, doing?"

Kendall's pale face brightened with genuine warmth for the first time all evening. The mention of her grandmother always brought her a sliver of peace. "She is doing well."

"Is she still unwilling to move here and live with you?" Arthur inquired.

"She prefers to live the quiet, isolated village life far away from the city," Kendall explained enthusiastically. "She finds the city too noisy. But I ensured that trusted locals are keeping a close eye on her. I even know how often she fed her chickens today."

Arthur smiled warmly, observing the shift in her demeanor. He had been good friends with her grandparents for decades. "Your grandfather was incredibly lucky to have you as a granddaughter."

Kendall shook her head instantly. "No, I am the lucky one to have been raised by them after my parents passed."

Hours later, after enduring a silent, tense family dinner where the clinking of silverware echoed like gunshots, Declan and Kendall were dismissed for the night. They retreated up the grand staircase side by side, yet miles apart. They stepped into their designated marital suite for the first time since their disastrous wedding night three years ago.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut, sealing them inside.

"Grandma went to the hospital for a full physical checkup yesterday," Declan spoke. His deep voice sliced through the uneasy, thick silence of the room. "Her heart condition is not as strong as it used to be. Thank you for agreeing to her request to stay the night here."

Standing near the door, Kendall gave a curt nod. Her face remained expressionless, betraying none of the turmoil inside her. "You're welcome. This is exactly what I should do." Internally, she bitterly reminded herself that for the sheer sake of rescuing 2.8 million dollars, she could force herself to sleep anywhere. It was a transaction, nothing more.

However, as she took a hesitant step further inside, her body froze. Her blood turned to ice.

The sprawling black-and-white themed room remained unchanged. The dark walls and white furniture felt cold and unwelcoming. It was illuminated only by a single, massive red candle burning on the nightstand in the living area. The flickering red light danced at the exact same angle it had three years ago, resurrecting the agonizing memories of their very first night in this room. They had ended up tangled in that wide bed. She remembered the sheer, raw agony of the consummation. Declan had forced his penis into her vagina with zero gentleness, tearing through her tight passage in his drug-addled haze. She remembered the stark pain of her hymen breaking, the slick blood staining the pristine white sheets, and his relentless, punishing thrusts. They had actual sex, but it wasn't born of love or consent. Declan suspected she had intentionally spiked his drink to force the intercourse. He believed she drugged him to trap him in the marriage permanently. That accusation sparked a terrifying, half-mad rage in him. He punished her with his body, fucking her ruthlessly without letting her rest for a single second, cementing a bitter estrangement between them that lasted for years.

Swallowing the thick bitterness rising in her throat, she turned around and reached for the doorknob. "I-I'll go downstairs and ask for another room from Greta," she stammered. Panic laced her voice.

Declan frowned severely. His tall frame stepped forward, instantly blocking her path. "Do you want Grandpa and Grandma to explicitly know that we are fighting and sleeping in separate rooms?" he demanded harshly.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath to cool her spinning head, Kendall dropped her hand from the knob. The hot steam rushing to her brain slowly subsided. "Okay, fine. We'll sleep on separate beds in here, then. You'll take the couch," she stated dispassionately.

Declan’s eyes widened slightly in sheer disbelief at her audacity. The frown on his face deepened. "Why should I be the one forced to take the couch when I'm not the one who came up with the ridiculous idea to sleep separately?" he retorted in heavy disgruntlement.

Speechless at his petty refusal to be a gentleman, Kendall mentally resigned herself to taking the uncomfortable couch. It was only one night. There was no reason for her to care about sharing a bed if he wasn't even remotely worried about his beloved Chloe getting jealous of the arrangement. She would just sleep on the couch and get through this nightmare.

Meanwhile, just outside the thick bedroom doors, standing hidden in the dim shadows of the corridor, Agnes intently eyed a steaming porcelain bowl resting on Greta's silver tray. The sweet aroma of pudding wafted through the air, masking the dangerous secret hidden within.

"Did you successfully add it in already?" Agnes asked in a harsh, demanding whisper.

"Yes, Madam. I carefully added it exactly according to the dosage you provided. It won't cause them any permanent physical damage," Greta replied in a hushed, nervous voice. Her hands shook slightly under the tray, rattling the silverware. "But, Madam, are you sure it's okay to do this to them?"

"I don't see any problem with it at all. She has everything to gain and nothing to lose if she gets pregnant tonight," Agnes stated with a terrifyingly stone-cold face, her eyes fixed on the heavy oak door. She felt no remorse. The Vance family needed an heir, and she would extract one by any means necessary. "If she's still not pregnant after consuming this, I'm genuinely afraid that her body might simply be unable to bear a child. I have to make early, alternative preparations for the bloodline if that happens. Now, go on, knock on the door, and make sure she eats every last bite of this."