Hey, everyone! I hope you all are having a great holiday season! Since I haven’t been able to finish Part Two yet, as a small token Christmas gift, I’ve decided to post the first chapter of Part Two on my blog here. I’m almost done drafting the additional chapter I decided to add and then its just finishing the rest of my read-through. I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to get it all done before the end of the year, but if not, then definitely in January. Until then, enjoy the first chapter of Stand - Part Two!
Wishing you all a happy, healthy, and safe holiday season!
Stand - Part Two
Chapter 1 - Celebratory Sabotage
The tears on my face had long dried up, their salty paths tight on my skin as I stared up at the ceiling. Rubbing my tired eyes, the length of chains attached to each of my wrists rattled noisily, their chilling sounds a reminder of my new prison.
Or old prison, I should say.
Darren had all four of my limbs chained to our bed, the lengths long enough to allow me to toss and turn in the misery he’d promised me.
I was now into the third and final day of my “acceptance period” with literally no books, no company, no Camaro, no Sloane, no forms of entertainment to console me while I “adjust” to the idea of motherhood.
Just me and the damn ceiling.
The only time I was allowed out of the chains was to use the bathroom or work out twice a day, followed by a shower. Not exercising was apparently bad for the baby, so that was not only allowed but strictly enforced.
You know what else is bad for the baby? Stress. A hateful mother. And a lying, murdering psychopath for a father.
At least Darren had been thoughtful enough to place a decent-sized trash can next to the bed so I could conveniently lean over and vomit my lunch up every day.
I was still plagued with the occasional nausea, so I supposed that sleeping most of the day away was a good way to escape the discomfort and pass the time. Except, according to Darren, sleeping interfered with the time he wanted me to spend visualizing our child and the “happiness” motherhood would bring me.
It made me want to vomit all over again.
How could any woman be happy about raising a child they knew would suffer unimaginable cruelty for a significant portion of their childhood?
Once or twice, I considered strangling myself with one of the chains to spare both of us the horrors of the future. But, of course, Darren had already thought of that and made sure the chains weren’t long enough for such an attempt. God forbid he allow death to interfere with his plans for this happy family he was envisioning.
I still hadn’t warmed up to him for three and a half years, yet he thought a child would magically change everything overnight.
Moron.
Darren was right about one thing, though. I had known this was coming. Known this whole time and dreaded the inevitability. I just hoped for another miracle that would continue to delay or prevent the whole damn thing—like someone shooting him in the balls or something.
Then the bastard deliberately made me believe in the hope I’d been longing for with that fake implant replacement, making me stupidly think I had more time than I really did. But naturally, it was just another illusion.
And now that my long-held nightmare was finally here, the cage Darren had built around my life had just become ten times smaller. Just like he wanted.
My world felt so much tighter now that I could barely breathe in it.
After he left the infirmary that day, I’d been so enraged by his deception that I somehow managed to pick myself up off the floor and stormed into our room to find the one thing I knew I could still use to slice his heart open.
But true to his character, Darren would never let me see him bleed.
He’d barely reacted at first, but the act of instantly throwing the letter into the fire was more than just a means of protecting his empire. He was protecting himself so he could continue living in that sweet, fluffy cloud of denial.
No way would he believe he was making a mistake, especially when it came to his wife. He was her god, after all. Nothing could thwart his plans for the future, not even the past.
He wasn’t his father. I wasn’t his mother. And the circumstances were not the same. Not in his eyes. No way would history be allowed to repeat itself.
Like Darren had said, it had only been three and a half years. I still had plenty of time before I eventually caught up to Diana’s brand of crazed desperation.
But hadn’t I already reached that level of desperation? Diana was no longer the only one to start a war for her own benefit. My ass had started two at the same damn time. And Darren was still winning!
I was quickly running out of resources to exploit, and now that Diana’s actions had been exposed, I had very little gain to show for it. At least for now.
But the more I thought about it, the more I knew revealing that letter had been irrational at the time. It was strictly an emotional reaction, catered more toward revenge than any measurable amount of leverage.
I probably should have waited for a more calculated and opportunistic moment, but it had seemed almost poetic at the time.
I’d hoped that Daniel would be there so he too could bear witness to the madness of his mother. Judging by his reaction, it seemed to hit him harder than it did Darren. Either way, the seed had been planted, and regardless of what either of them said, the effects of the truth would take root.
I just didn’t know what those roots would inevitably sprout into.
Preferably something I could bludgeon them with.
But there was one small silver lining that I might still be able to use to hang them all with, assuming I ever found the right opportunity to do so.
Darren clearly did not want the information about his mother reaching anyone else's ears.
According to him, the fears of a potential uprising were a very real possibility. If someone were to allow such a dangerous “rumor” to spread, I might end up with a far better outcome than I had originally anticipated.
I would have to keep my eyes open for the opportunity to send out that flare that could create one hell of a forest fire that Darren might actually struggle to extinguish.
Lying still, I tried to feel every inch of my body, from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. I didn’t feel any different. Aside from the occasional nausea, I didn’t even feel pregnant.
Whatever unlucky life now growing inside me was keeping itself hidden from me as best it could, staying in the shadows where it was still safe. That could just be the denial still talking, though.
Would it be a boy or a girl? Blue or hazel eyes? What if it was a boy with red hair? Would Darren be mad? Male redheads always suffered an unfair stigma for some reason. People didn’t seem to like red hair on men as they did on women, and it was such bullshit. Boys got bullied so much harder in school because kids thought they looked weird.
I had a friend in elementary school who actually had to switch schools because he was bullied so bad for his red hair. I tried to tell him to just beat the shit out of them, but he wouldn’t listen.
And then it made me wonder even more—would our child even grow up to have bullies? Would they be allowed to socialize with other kids? Make friends? Or would they just have private tutors for their whole lives?
If we had a daughter, would Darren just discard her completely? Just ignore her until she was grown enough to marry her off to someone who was just as awful as he was? Would he at least spare her the same torture he’d endured as a child?
Boy or girl, it clearly didn’t matter. Their future was already decided for them, and it was full of nothing but anguish. And right now, there wasn’t shit I could do to stop it.
The bedroom door suddenly opened, my eyes latching onto the sound of anything other than the noise of my wretched breathing. Sloane entered the room, her gunmetal eyes warming with sympathy as they grazed over my limp form.
She sighed quietly to herself as she approached, scratching the side of her buzzed scalp where her Japanese dragon tattoo snarled at me.
“Your husband would like you to join him and the rest of the family for dinner in twenty minutes,” she informed me, her Russian accent particularly heavy today.
I cocked a lazy brow at her, surprised by the sheepish demeanor in informing me of my apparent evening plans.
“The rest of the family, huh?” I mumbled, completely disinterested. As much as I would love to see Katherine right now, the idea of having to tolerate Darren’s presence soured the entire thing. “I think I’d rather eat alone. Again.”
Her lips tightened before she shook her head. “It’s not a request,” she replied, regret lingering in her tone as she reached out to unlock the chains from the cuffs on my wrists.
When all four of my limbs were free, I sat up and stretched my back with a dramatic yawn.
“Of course it isn’t,” I murmured, then hopped off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
As I stood in front of the mirror to tidy up my hair, Sloane lingered in the doorway, her eyes gliding over me with an odd look of uncertainty. I glanced over at her for a split second, then returned to brushing my hair.
“Something up?” I asked her, wincing as the brush caught on a seriously painful knot.
“You’re unhappy about the baby,” she stated plainly, her soft gaze lingering over my stomach. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t get to choose it,” I replied, my tone flavored by a bitter taste as I stated what I thought was obvious. “It was forced onto me under false pretenses.”
Sloane’s brows knitted together in confusion as she watched me braid my hair into a loose braid down the side of my neck.
“Why would he need to go to such lengths? Do you not want children?”
Her Russian accent hinted at the concern she was clearly trying not to voice with her words. It seemed she didn’t understand why a husband’s wife would be unhappy about having his children.
“I don’t want to have his children,” I answered bluntly as I tied a small rubber band around the end of the braid, then grabbed my toothbrush to quickly brush my teeth.
“But why?” she balked, bewildered by my disdain. “You are his wife. Is it not your duty to provide him with children?”
I spit out the toothpaste and nearly tossed my toothbrush into the sink in anger. Straightening my spine, I turned to her and glared.
“No, it isn’t, Sloane. But is it not my husband’s duty to remain truthful to his wife? To refrain from betraying her trust by engaging in deceitful tactics for his own ambition?”
Sloane tilted her head, shaking it slightly as she failed to grasp the issue.
“But why would he need to lie to you?” she implored. “Why do you not want to bear his children?”
“Because I want to spare them from the horrors of this life!” I nearly shouted. I could feel my chest heaving as my blood pulsed with irritation. “Darren intends to torture my children so they will become just as cruel and ruthless as he is. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t do everything I could to prevent that? Even if it meant averting their existence entirely.”
With that, I shot around her tall frame to storm into the closet and find something I wouldn’t be able to wear to dinner in a few months. As I aggressively sorted through the dresses, trying to find the ugliest thing possible, I could feel Sloane’s eyes on me again.
“What do you mean he intends to torture your children?” she asked carefully.
I sighed as I tilted my head back and stared up at the ceiling. This woman was seriously testing my patience today.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and slowly let out all my frustration.
“When Darren was a child, his father would have him and his brothers tortured once a year for three days to build up their pain tolerance. And he intends to keep this tradition going for his future sons since it worked out so well for him.” Finally finding something suitable, I slipped on an ugly sleeveless burnt orange peplum dress, then flailed hopelessly with the zipper at the back. “Would you mind?” I asked Sloane as I turned to the mirror to angrily smooth the fabric down.
I watched her approach from the mirror, her eyes downcast as she took the zipper between her fingers and carefully zipped it up my back.
“You must understand,” Sloane began as she hooked the clasp at the top of the dress closed. “Men must be strong in this world, as the weak will not survive in it. Your husband’s methods are certainly harsh, but I understand his reasoning.”
I sighed again and rubbed my tired eyes. “You understand then why I would just rather not have children at all.”
Abandoning the pointless argument, I moved to the corner of the closet that contained my vanity and sat down to make myself look more human and less zombie. After adding some simple mascara, under-eye concealer, and a touch of blush, I looked a little less pissed off and slightly more awake.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, and that you’re upset about your pregnancy,” Sloane suddenly said, making me pause applying my lip gloss so I could glance at her through the mirror. “It is unfortunate that your husband lied to you and dishonored your trust for his own gain.”
I felt my stomach twist as I absorbed the sincerity in her face, uncertainty for her own skin splintering inside my gut. Was she trying to get herself killed?
“You shouldn’t talk like that. Darren wouldn’t like it,” I said carefully. “I don’t want to see him hurt you for appearing disloyal to him by siding with me.”
Sloane’s eyes flickered with what seemed like appreciation, the corner of her mouth curling up ever so slightly. She then nodded her head and moved to exit the closet. "I’ll wait for you outside.”
I watched her leave through the mirror, tremors pulsing through my limbs as fear for her safety suddenly hit me. She was sympathizing with me, something Clive and Owen never did. Maybe because they were smart, or maybe because they didn’t care. But Sloane had told me she felt I was worthy of her protection. How far would she go to stay committed to that ideal? She certainly wouldn’t be able to do any of it if she crossed Darren. Which meant I too needed to watch what I said around her.
Selecting a pair of low gold heels, I slipped the shoes on and checked myself in the mirror one last time.
Even under all the makeup, my eyes still looked haunted, and my complexion was pale and lifeless, worsened by the harsh color of the dress. Releasing a slow, heavy breath, I closed my eyes and counted backward from five. When I reached zero, I felt calm enough to confidently walk through the hurricane that awaited me downstairs.
Stepping through the bedroom door, Sloane raised her head to glance at me and then followed as I walked past her.
“Where’s Camaro?” I asked softly as I moved down the hallway toward the stairs.
“With her trainers, working on new drills,” Sloane answered from behind me.
I nodded, making my way down the stairs, clutching my stomach at the sound of voices catching my ears. Rounding the corner, I found Darren standing next to Daniel and Katherine near the dinner table, each of them holding champagne glasses.
All eyes landed on me when my heels announced my entrance into the dining room. And then I glanced up at the congratulatory banner hanging over the wall and scowled.
Katherine took the opportunity to set her glass down and quickly rushed over to me. Her burns were concealed under the long-sleeved yellow dress she was wearing, her hair draped strategically around the scarred side of her face.
“Congratulations, Jaden! We’re so happy for you,” she said enthusiastically, and then wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace. “I know you’re upset,” she whispered into my ear, “but just go with it.”
When she pulled back, she smiled at me, reminding me to give her one in turn, though much less animated. “Thanks,” I replied.
Darren’s eyes hit me like a tidal wave, and I didn’t even have to return his gaze to know he was practically eating me alive. Ignoring the burning pressure of his stare, I made my way closer to the table, gripping its edge to ground me in place. But I knew Darren wouldn’t allow the distance as he moved around the table, the predator in him sliding up behind me to glide his hands across my abdomen, pressing me against him.
I stiffened, wanting nothing more than to throw my head back and bust his nose in, but unfortunately, my head was inches below his chin at the moment.
My skin bristled as I felt him lower his mouth to my ear, his voice low for only me to hear.
“Are you going to behave tonight?” he asked softly. “Because your dog misses you terribly.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop my bitchy retort but nodded. If polite dinner behavior got me Camaro back, then I could survive what would likely only be an hour of torture anyway.
“Good girl,” he said and then kissed my temple before stepping away to pull out my chair for me.
Darren tucked in my chair for me as I sat down, and everyone else took their seats. Daniel then took his champagne glass and raised it for a toast.
“Well, I’m glad your wife is finally embracing her duty to expand our family. Here’s to hoping for the sons you deserve,” he said, the snark in his tone unmistakable.
What a dick.
Darren and Katherine raised their glasses to join Daniel’s toast while I only stared at mine, noticing a similar colored liquid.
“It’s only grape juice,” Darren clarified.
I hummed in acknowledgment, then reluctantly raised the glass to clink against the others, taking a sip and wrinkling my nose at the overly sweet taste. Yuck.
“How’ve you been feeling, Jaden?” Katherine asked, her eyes wide with interest.
I pursed my lips at her question, unsurprised by her curiosity. Even if I wasn’t happy about the forced stealth pregnancy, she would still concern herself with my well-being in general.
“Nauseated,” I answered, ditching the grape juice for the glass of ice water in front of me.
“I know the feeling,” Katherine replied in sympathy. “It was like that for me too in the first trimester. But it should go away in the second.”
“Great,” I said as my tired eyes slunk back to the empty gold charger placed in front of me.
“You have brothers, don’t you, Jaden?” Daniel suddenly asked.
My gaze shot up to his at the mention of my family, my stomach flipping into a tight frenzy. I could see Darren’s deadly glare aimed at Daniel, a clear warning in his gaze not to push further. He didn’t like it when my life before him was brought to light.
“Yes,” I said simply, keeping my answer short.
“Much younger than you?” he continued, unfazed by the awkward atmosphere he was clearly intentionally creating.
“Yes,” I answered again, my heart rate picking up.
Daniel nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Then you should have no problem with raising a boy in this family. I know you weren’t raised to be a proper caretaker, but that experience will come in handy for you.”
I frowned, unsure what to say to that little insult. “I’m not sure it will matter either way, but thanks.”
“Of course it matters,” he retorted snidely. “You’re going to want to be prepared for his upbringing as best you can so you’re able to properly support him as he grows into a man.”
I cocked a brow at him, noticing the bait he was clearly dangling in front of my face. I wondered if he would take mine just as well.
“And what is it about his upbringing that I need to be prepared for exactly?” I asked. “Assuming we ever even have a boy.”
A wicked grin flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sure Darren won’t stop breeding you until you do.” Daniel snickered, causing Darren to side-eye him. “But let’s just say your son’s childhood won’t be as easy as your brothers’ was.”
“Enough, Daniel,” Darren warned, his gaze hardening with irritation as he glared at his brother.
I tilted my head at Daniel, the sharpness of my tongue too quick to catch. “Why? Because my brothers weren’t tortured every year for three days straight the same way you two were as children?” I deadpanned. “Sorry, but I don’t think any mother could ever be prepared for that.”
Daniel’s wide eyes shot to Darren’s. “You actually told her that?”
Darren’s expression narrowed at Daniel’s scorn, the look of challenge flashing in his dark eyes.
“Wait, tortured?” Katherine stammered. “As a child? What is she talking about, Daniel?”
Daniel rolled his eyes and sighed. “Nothing,” he answered sternly. “Forget she said anything.”
Katherine suddenly stood from her chair and stared down at him, more distressed than I’d ever seen her.
“No! Tell me right now! You were tortured as a child? Why would Jaden worry about the same thing for their son? What aren’t you telling me?”
Daniel had the look of murder on his face as he looked up at her from his seat. “Katherine, sit down and shut your mouth,” he ordered, his voice hard with warning.
When Daniel’s furious gaze landed on me, all I could do was shrug and hide my smirk.
“Sorry, I thought she knew,” I said innocently. “I actually planned on asking her how she came to terms with it, but I guess that would have gotten both of us nowhere.”
“Oh my God, I can’t hear this anymore!” Katherine practically shrieked as she finally turned to flee the room. Daniel stood after her.
“Katherine, get back here!” he shouted as he chased her, the sounds of their arguing echoing down the halls. I found myself a little stunned that Katherine had actually stood up to her husband the way she did. What a proud moment for her.
Still trying not to smirk and maintaining my air of innocence, I took another sip of my water while avoiding Darren’s gaze that was damn near incinerating my soul. Setting the glass down, I glanced over at him with doe eyes.
“What? I thought she knew!” I exclaimed, hunching my shoulders in an innocent pose. “It’s not my fault they don’t communicate.”
Darren slowly shook his head at me, the agitation coming off him in hot waves.
“This was supposed to be a celebratory dinner for us,” Darren seethed, his tone low with barely contained rage.
“And your brother had to ruin it by bringing up a sensitive topic to goad me.”
“Which you fell for almost immediately,” he snapped.
I huffed a breath of annoyance. “Well, it wouldn’t have even mattered if Daniel hadn’t hidden something so important from his wife,” I retorted, glaring at Darren from the corner of my eye.
He looked like he was about to smack me when Scott abruptly charged into the dining room, panic on his face. “We have a huge fucking problem,” he announced.
The scowl on Darren’s face reached new heights of terrifying as he growled in agitation, slamming his hand on the table as he rose from his chair. “Don’t you dare leave this room until your plate is fucking spotless. We’ll continue this conversation later,” he rasped down at me before turning away to follow Scott. “And burn that goddamn dress!” he shouted over his shoulder as he thundered out of sight.
Gloating over the now empty table, I finally released the smirk I’d been struggling to hold back and took another sip of my water, feeling like the cat who ate all three of the fucking canaries.
The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open, and a cart with a covered tray was placed at the top. It was being pushed out by the chef, Pascal, who suddenly paused when he saw it was only me at the table.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, his French accent thick with disappointment.
I folded my lips together and emphasized the sympathy for his hard work on my face. “Looks like it’s just gonna be me tonight,” I answered somberly.
“Oh,” he murmured as he looked down at the cart. He then lifted the lid and took one of the plates for the setting and carried it over to me, setting it down on the charger. “Enjoy,” he said, and then stepped away only to quickly turn back around. “And congratulations on your pregnancy.”
I tried not to frown at him at the sentiment. “Thanks.”
He nodded and then turned around to push the cart back into the kitchen.
At his absence, Sloane strolled in, noting too how empty the room was and then snickered at me. “Looks like you got your wish,” she teased.
I smirked back at her before turning around in my chair to look down at the special dinner Pascal had made. The smell of the cooked salmon suddenly hit my stomach like a sucker punch to the gut, and I instantly vomited up all the water I had just drank onto the plate.
“Ah, fuck.”
No way was that plate going to be spotless anymore.