Mr Mysterious and his Bride

Paris

"Daydreaming, my love?" A cold voice whispered in my ear, the warm tickle of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
I stirred slowly, a small smile playing on my lips as I remained half-asleep, unaware of where I was or whose voice it was.
But the next moment, reality hit me like a tidal wave.
The scorching pain of hot iron grazing my skin jolted me awake, a scream tearing from my throat. "Ah!" I cried out, clutching my burning hand as tears stung my eyes.
I straightened abruptly, realizing I had dozed off while leaning against the kitchen counter.
Through tear-filled eyes, I looked ahead. Standing there, as if he owned my suffering, was the reason for all my pain.
My husband.
My nightmare.
Stevenson Bale.

In the twenty days since our marriage, he hadn't missed a single chance to remind me that he could, and would, dismantle my life piece by piece.
Every day with him made me believe death would be kinder than this existence. And he made sure that belief seeped into every corner of my soul.
"Are you hurt, wifey?" His voice dripped with mockery as he stepped closer, his cold eyes locking with mine.
For a fleeting second, I thought I saw something softer in his gaze, and it confused me.
Stevenson, with softness for me? The thought was almost laughable.
His stare lingered on me, as if he'd forgotten why he was here or why he'd burned my hand in the first place.
I felt suffocated under the weight of his gaze. Lowering my eyes, I whispered through clenched teeth, "No, sir."
I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing every ounce of anger and pain. Losing control wasn't an option.
Stevenson said nothing. He turned and walked away, his silence more suffocating than his words.
The moment he left, I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It felt as though the air in the room had been sucked out while he was there.
All I wanted was to escape his presence, to run far away from this hell. But I couldn't—not yet. Not until I had the proof I needed to save my brother.
Tears streamed down my face as my brother's image flashed before my eyes. I missed him. I missed my mother. I missed home.
I wanted to curl into their arms and pretend this nightmare wasn't real. But it was. And I couldn't stop now, not when my family's future was on the line.
"No," I whispered to myself, wiping my tears. Crying would only earn me another punishment.
Stevenson despised tears.
The last time, my punishment had been to sit in his study for an hour, enduring his cold presence and mocking silence.
This time, I feared it could be worse.
I was enduring all of this for my brother. His life was on the line, and I had made a deal with Stevenson to save him.
The price was my freedom, my happiness—my marriage. If I broke the deal or violated any of his rules, my family would be destroyed.
Standing in the kitchen, I felt trapped, paralyzed by the thought of facing him again.
It was Sunday—a day that should have offered peace. Instead, it brought the constant threat of Stevenson, who sat in the living room, working as if he hadn't just torn me apart moments ago.
"Can I help you in any way?" The words slipped out before I could stop myself. I winced, regretting the lapse.
"Please don't tell him I said anything," I quickly added to the maid.
She nodded silently, her understanding clear in her cautious demeanor.
Not wanting to provoke him, I stayed in the kitchen all afternoon.
By the time evening rolled around, I finally dared to leave the kitchen, but only when I was certain Stevenson had retreated to his study.
I returned to the tiny room beneath the stairs, the one he'd designated for me despite my status as his wife.
It was humiliating, but a small part of me was grateful.
Sharing his bedroom would've been unbearable—a step too far. If that had happened, I wasn't sure I'd still be alive.
As I finished eating the simple meal I'd prepared, a sharp knock startled me.
Opening the door, I found a maid standing there. "Sir has called for you," she said curtly before hurrying away.
My eyes flicked to the clock. 11:20 PM. The lateness of the hour sent a chill down my spine.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way to his bedroom. Each step felt heavier than the last as dread coiled in my stomach. My palms were damp with sweat by the time I reached his door.
Before I could knock, his voice cut through the silence. "Come in."
I pushed the door open hesitantly, my gaze instinctively lowering to the floor. He was seated on the sofa, surrounded by files, his piercing eyes locking onto me the moment I entered.
The tension in the room was suffocating. I focused on the tiles beneath my feet, unable to meet his gaze.
"Tomorrow," he said, his tone as cold as the man himself.
"Yes, sir," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Sharp at 5 PM," he continued without looking up from his laptop.
"Okay, sir."
"Leave."
I didn't dare linger.
As I walked down the corridor, the sound of my anklets echoed softly, blending with the rapid beating of my heart.
For the first time in weeks, a faint smile touched my lips. Tomorrow, I would meet my family—my brother, my mother, and Bradley.
Bradley, my boyfriend. He didn't even know that I was no longer his girlfriend—that I was now someone else's wife.
He deserved to know the truth. Bradley wasn't just my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—but also my best friend, the one person who had always been my anchor.
The mere thought of him made my chest tighten with guilt. He was away for training, blissfully unaware of the storm that had upended my life.
He'd been planning our marriage for when he returned, imagining a future together, while here I was—already married.
But it wasn't that I felt I had betrayed him.
From the very beginning, he knew where I stood. I didn't love him, not in the way he wanted me to.
He had proposed to me countless times over three long years, and each time, I'd said no.
But he stayed—patient, unwavering, always there. Two years ago, when he proposed again, I finally gave in.
I didn't say yes because my feelings had changed. I said yes because I couldn't bear to hurt him anymore.
He had wanted me as more than a friend, while I had only ever seen him as my closest confidant.
But I convinced myself to give it a chance, hoping that perhaps love would grow from our friendship.
Bradley had been so certain it would.
But deep down, I knew the truth. My heart would never change.
Even so, I was ready to marry him.
Bradley was my safe haven, my comfort zone—the one place I could escape to when the world felt too heavy.
I thought that being with him would be enough, that his love would fill the void in my heart.
Now, that same heart burned with guilt. I had broken his dreams, shattered the future he'd so carefully planned for us.
I wasn't his girlfriend anymore. I couldn't marry him. I couldn't give him the life he deserved—all because of one man.
Stevenson.
Tomorrow, I would tell Bradley everything.
How my life had turned into a living hell.
How Stevenson Bale had become my nightmare.

F L A S H B A C K

"What's happening, Jonathan? Why are you crying like this?" I asked as soon as I stepped into the house, panic rising at the sight of my brother in tears.
"I'm scared, Steve. He'll kill me... He'll kill me," Jonathan whispered, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face.
"Who? Who are you talking about?" I demanded, gripping his shoulders firmly, my heart pounding with dread.
"He's after me. Stevenson... Stevenson Bale," Jonathan stammered, his wide, tearful eyes brimming with terror.
The name hit me like a blow, and my stomach dropped. "How do you know Stevenson Bale? Why would he want to hurt you?" I pressed, my voice cracking as anxiety clawed at my chest.
Jonathan's sobs grew louder, his words choked as he finally blurted out, "His sister... She's in my class. She... she tried to take her own life."
I froze, my hand flying to my mouth in shock. Fear and confusion swirled inside me. "Stevenson's sister... tried to take her life?" I muttered, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
Jonathan clung to me desperately, his tearful voice pleading, "I've been framed, Steve. I didn't do anything wrong, but Stevenson won't listen. He won't let me go. Please, save me. I don't want to die."
My heart broke seeing my little brother so vulnerable, trembling in fear. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him close, holding him tightly as his sobs wracked his small frame.
"Bachhe, calm down," I whispered, my own voice shaking as tears burned my eyes. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. Stevenson won't hurt you."


E N D O F F L A S H B A C K

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, waking me instantly. The thought of going home filled me with such excitement that I hadn't slept a wink.
All night, I tossed and turned on the miserable bed, its loud creaks mocking my restlessness.
After a refreshing shower, wrapped in a towel, I walked to the cupboard.
I opened it, my eyes scanning the neatly arranged long gowns. None of them were mine-just a collection of bland long gowns the staff had stocked the first day I arrived.
My forced marriage hadn't left me time to pack, and Stevenson had ensured my life here would lack any trace of comfort or individuality.
"What should I wear?" I mumbled, rummaging through the pile. I finally settled on a light pink long gown paired with a full-sleeved blouse.
It wasn't flashy, but it would do the job.
I needed to hide the burn on my hand from yesterday-a gift from Stevenson. It was small, but my mother's sharp eyes would notice it instantly.
Once dressed, I applied light makeup and grabbed my purse, eager to leave.
Walking through the living room, my excitement faltered as a chill ran down my spine.
A familiar wave of dread washed over me.
Could he still be here? I shook off the thought. No, he must've left for the office.
"My lovely wife," came his cold, mocking voice from behind, freezing me mid-step.
I turned, my heart sinking, to see Stevenson seated on the sofa, his laptop balanced on his thigh. His eyes locked on mine as he gestured for me to come closer.
The room seemed to shrink around me, suffocating me with his presence. Trembling, I obeyed.
Before I could take more than a few steps, his voice lashed out like a whip. "Fast!"
The force of his command sent a jolt through me. My heart raced as I hurried to stand before him, my gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet his piercing stare.
He didn't speak. His eyes roamed over me, scrutinizing every detail. Gathering my courage, I glanced up at him briefly.
For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw admiration flicker in his gaze, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by cold hatred.
I looked down again, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Stevenson set his laptop aside and stood, towering over me. Slowly, he began circling me, his movements deliberate, his presence predatory.
Stopping in front of me, he reached out and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"Which lover are you getting all dressed up for?" he asked, his voice dripping with venom.
His words hit like a slap, leaving me stunned. My eyes widened as I tried to comprehend the accusation.
"I asked you something," he snapped, his grip tightening. The pressure was almost unbearable, his nails digging into my skin.
Tears filled my eyes, spilling over as I stammered, "I... I'm just going to visit my mother." My voice trembled, every word heavy with fear.
"Uniform!" Stevenson barked. A maid appeared instantly, handing him a brown long gown-the uniform all the staff wore. Including me.
Stevenson snatched it from her hands, his fury radiating off him in waves. "Everyone out!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense air.
The maids fled, leaving me alone with him.
He released my chin, and I flinched at the lingering pain. Without warning, he threw the uniform at me. It hit my chest and fell to the floor.
"Strip," he ordered, his voice cold and emotionless.
I froze, his command echoing in my ears. My body trembled as I struggled to process his words.
"Did you hear me?" he demanded, stepping closer.
Tears stopped flowing, replaced by a numbness that settled over me like a shroud. Every day in this house was a new form of torment.
My hands moved mechanically, reaching for my pallu. Slowly, I began to undo my long gown.
The fabric slipped to the floor, leaving me exposed in the cruel silence. My dignity lay shattered at my feet. With trembling hands, I reached for the uniform and began to put it on.
Stevenson's gaze never left me. His eyes burned with a mix of hatred and twisted satisfaction, stripping away what little strength I had left.
It wasn't just my body he humiliated-it was my soul.
Once I was dressed, he turned sharply and walked toward the main door.
Panic seized me. No. This can't be happening. He can't come with me.
"Move," he barked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Reluctantly, I followed him outside. As I climbed into the passenger seat of the car, he settled into the back, silent and brooding. The drive was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension.
When my family home came into view, my chest tightened. If Stevenson misbehaved or let his cruelty slip, my mother would uncover the truth about this nightmare of a marriage.
I quickly wiped my face with my pallu, erasing any trace of tears.
The car came to a stop, and I stepped out, my legs unsteady beneath me.
Stevenson followed, his sharp gaze pinning me in place.
"Sharp at 5 PM," he said, his voice low and menacing. "If you're even a second late, you know what will happen."
I lowered my head, my voice barely audible. "Yes, sir."
Without another word, he got back into the car and drove away.
Standing there, I took a shaky breath, the weight of his presence still lingering. Despite the torment, a glimmer of joy sparked in my chest.
I was finally home.
Finally, I would see my family.

Paris

"He'll kill me," I muttered under my breath, my legs trembling as I hurried toward the mansion.
My heart pounded violently against my ribs, and each step felt heavier than the last. My breaths came in short, labored gasps, and panic clawed at my chest.
The thought of being even a second late to face him was unbearable. The consequences would be devastating, and I knew it.
After what felt like an eternity, I reached the towering gates of the mansion.
Relief washed over me for a brief, fleeting moment. Wiping away the fear etched on my face, I forced myself to appear composed as I approached the main door.
Just as I stepped inside, his sharp voice cut through the air like a dagger.
"Well, it looks like my lovely wife has finally decided to grace us with her presence," Stevenson sneered, his tone dripping with mockery.
My heart lurched in my chest, and I froze momentarily, fear rooting me to the spot.
A quick glance at the clock-4:59.
Relief surged within me, I wasn't late. But my reprieve was short-lived as his piercing gaze bore into me, scrutinizing every inch of my being.
"Next week, I'm hosting a party at home," he announced, his voice laced with barely restrained fury. "It's a celebration of our marriage."
He stepped closer, the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves.
Leaning down, his face inches from mine, his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "If you even think of doing something to cast doubt on this marriage, if you cause even the smallest scene, you'll remember that day for the rest of your life. It'll haunt you like our wedding day."
My fists clenched tightly at my sides, and I fixed my gaze on the floor, swallowing back the surge of emotions threatening to escape.
How could I ever forget that day? I thought bitterly, tears threatening to spill as memories clawed their way to the surface.
I dug my nails into my palms to keep from crying, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain.
"All my business partners will be here," he continued, his voice as cold as his eyes. "Behave yourself. If you embarrass me or ruin this in any way, you'll regret your very existence."
As if I don't already regret it, I thought, anger flickering within me. But I bit my tongue, knowing better than to speak.
Before I could recover, Stevenson grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, and dragged me upstairs.
With a forceful shove, he pushed me to the floor. "Clean it," he ordered, his voice void of any emotion. Then, without sparing me another glance, he stormed off.
I knelt there, scrubbing the floor with trembling hands, seething internally.
I wish I were scrubbing his face instead, I thought, rubbing harder in frustration. The dark humor gave me a fleeting sense of satisfaction.
But my defiance was short-lived. Stevenson reappeared moments later, his watch glinting under the light as he marched toward me with measured precision.
I braced myself, knowing his games too well. He never left without first finding a way to make me cry. My jaw tightened in anticipation of the pain I knew was coming.
He stopped beside me, his presence suffocating, and pressed his shoe firmly against my hand.
"I'm going to the hospital," he said coolly, adjusting his watch as if the weight of his shoe wasn't crushing my fingers. "If you want a shred of luck, stay out of my sight when I return."
The pressure from his shoe sent sharp pain shooting up my arm, but I bit my lip to stifle a cry. Tears blurred my vision, but anger coursed through my veins, burning hotter than the pain.
When I finally looked up, his eyes locked onto mine, cold and unrelenting. His gaze sent shivers down my spine, a silent reminder of the power he held over me.
Without another word, he removed his foot and turned, walking out of the room with calculated indifference.
Left alone, I sat frozen, my hand throbbing, tears spilling freely down my cheeks. Fear of the unknown gripped me, twisting my stomach into knots.
My mind spiraled back to the night that started it all-the night that bound me to this living nightmare.

F L A S H B A C K

The wedding was over, but instead of feeling joy, all I felt was fear. The weight of the marriage pressed down on me like a shackle.
As I stood at the threshold of his home, still draped in my bridal attire, Stevenson's fury erupted. "I'm going to the hospital. Stay here until I return," he barked, his tone cold and unforgiving.
Without another word, he stormed off, leaving me standing there, trembling in fear.
The staff averted their eyes as if I didn't exist, and I stood frozen, paralyzed by uncertainty. No bride should feel this alone on her wedding night, but I did.
Hours passed before I heard the screech of his car pulling up outside.
My heart hammered against my ribs as his heavy footsteps approached. Each step felt like the tightening of a noose around my neck.
Stevenson's eyes burned with fury as he seized my hand and dragged me to his room. "Everyone out!" he roared, his voice thunderous.
The staff fled without hesitation, leaving me alone with the man I feared most.
"My sister is lying in a hospital bed because of your brother," he snarled, his voice venomous. "She's sixteen. Sixteen! And because of your brother's actions, she's fighting for her life. If I had it my way, he'd be dead already."
His hand shot out, gripping my neck. His breath was hot against my skin, each word a lash. "But no. Killing him would be mercy. He will suffer. And you," he growled, his grip tightening, "you will pay for his sins. He'll cry tears of blood before I'm through."
Desperation surged through me as I clawed at his hand. "Stevenson, please," I begged, my voice shaking. "My brother is innocent. Please don't hurt him. He didn't do anything!"
But my pleas fell on deaf ears. With a shove, he threw me onto the bed. I scrambled to get up, but he pinned me down, his strength overwhelming.
"Don't worry," he sneered, his voice low and cold. "I won't touch you. I have no desire to consummate this sham of a marriage. But you will feel the weight of his sins."
Tears streamed down my face as he reached for his belt. My heart stopped, terror freezing me in place.
"Please, no!" I screamed, the sound desperate and raw.
For a moment, his hand stilled. His eyes locked onto mine, the fury in them warring with something else-something darker. Slowly, he lowered the belt.
Without a word, he stormed out of the room, leaving me trembling and broken.
That night, I understood the full extent of my nightmare. My life, my freedom, my dignity-they all belonged to him now.


E N D O F F L A S H B A C K