Replaceable​

Four years into our arranged marriage, and to Richard, I was still nothing. He could never get over his first love, so he filled our life with her pale imitations. He was brazen enough to bring them into our home, to tangle with them on the very couch I’d picked out for what I hoped would be our life together. When I caught him, he’d rest his head on my shoulder like a spoiled child, trying to charm his way out of it. That time, I slapped him. I shoved him away as he warned me, "It's just a marriage, Ellie. Don't get jealous." But all I felt was a wave of relief. That was close. A second longer, and he would have seen the bite mark on my neck. 1. The sight of clothes strewn across the living room floor made my knees nearly give out. There, on the very couch I’d chosen with the naive hope of building a life with a man I loved, Richard was wrapped around a young woman. The angry red marks on her shoulders spoke volumes of my husband's recent passion. Her eyes met mine, and in an instant, I understood. She was just like all the others—a ghost of his first love. She flushed, burrowing into Richard's embrace. "Mrs. Thorne..." Richard just kissed her cheek. "Sweetheart, my wife's home. Go get dressed upstairs." The girl pouted, clearly reluctant, but gathered her clothes and went. I rubbed my temples. "I thought you were picking me up today. Why did you bring her here?" Richard pulled on his shirt with a lazy grace, his hands finding my temples and expertly massaging them. "The poor girl was just curious to see where I lived," he murmured. "She's so charming when she pouts, I couldn't say no." My heart stuttered. In four years, other women had tried to force their way into our home, and Richard had cut them loose without a second thought. The cloying, sweet scent in the air turned my stomach. "You promised you wouldn't bring anyone home." He nuzzled my shoulder, his voice a low, intimate purr. "She wore me down, Ellie. Besides, I sent Liam to get you. You know he's the most dependable." His chin brushed against my collar, and my heart leaped into my throat. My hand shot out on pure instinct, the slap cracking in the quiet room. Richard chuckled, a low, amused sound. "What's this, Eleanor? A tantrum?" I pulled my collar tighter, my breath catching in my chest. He'd been so close to seeing the vivid, angry bite mark hidden just beneath the fabric. I thought of the man he called "dependable," of how he had pinned my shoulders against the wall, his teeth sinking into my skin with desperate force. "I can't wait anymore. When the hell are you going to divorce him?" I fought to keep my face cool and composed until Richard finally headed upstairs, the sounds of shameless flirtation soon echoing from the guest room. This was his punishment for my defiance. Early in our marriage, I would have screamed, I would have cried. He would have offered a few bored explanations before finding crueler, more inventive ways to remind me of my place. But now, I just remembered my answer to that desperate question, whispered in a haze of illicit passion. "Soon. I think it's going to be very soon." 2. My marriage to Richard was rotten from the start. His first love was from a poor family, and the Thornes had driven her out of Northwood City. Unable to defy them, Richard had agreed to an arranged marriage with me. The bitter truth was, I loved him. Years ago, my mother, citing my posture as ‘unladylike,’ had lashed my back with a riding crop and forbidden me from eating. At the gala we attended that night, I could barely stand. Richard, a complete stranger, was the only one who noticed. In a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, he slipped me a small tube of ointment and a pastry. "It'll get better," he’d whispered. So when he was proposed as my match, I was ecstatic. I thought I'd won. For the first two years, I poured every ounce of love I had into being the perfect Mrs. Thorne, believing that my devotion would eventually be returned. But in four years of marriage, every woman he sought out was a carbon copy of her. The illusion shattered a year ago, when I saw him eat the grapes his secretary peeled for him without a second thought. Richard was a notorious mysophobe; I'd once placed a stalk of asparagus in his bowl, and he’d thrown the entire thing out, bowl and all. In that moment, I felt like the world's biggest fool. In a world of high-stakes mergers and cold transactions, I was the idiot chasing love. 3. I hadn't expected Richard to get so attached to this particular girl. When I arrived at the party on his yacht at the racing club, he was lounging on a sofa, the girl, Mia, draped over him, playing the part of the queen. Richard's best friend, Liam, was seething. "Have you completely forgotten you have a wife?" Richard didn't even glance his way. "Even if my wife were here, she wouldn't say a thing." He smirked, his eyes finding me across the room. "Right, Ellie?" Heads turned. Liam instinctively moved as if to block my view of them. The night wind coming off the sea was cold, chilling my expression. "Mia, is it?" I said, my voice level. "Get off." I’d noticed the swarm of media boats near the port on my way in. A playful smirk touched Richard's lips, but his arm only tightened around Mia's waist. I glanced out the window at the flotilla of speedboats, unable to tell which ones held paparazzi. "Richard. Either she goes, or I go." His hand didn't move. "Is that so? Well, if my wife insists... then you can go." I pressed a hand to my chest, a familiar numbness spreading through me. I was about to say more when the unmistakable flash of a camera lit up the window. They’d gotten their shot. "Fine. Do whatever you want." I turned and walked toward the deck, missing the way Richard’s face darkened as he abruptly stood, sending Mia tumbling to the floor. My phone buzzed. It was my assistant. I found a secluded corner to take the call. "Ms. Byrd, the final asset transfers are almost complete. No one has traced them back to us." A genuine smile finally broke through my icy composure. "Excellent. Keep going." The good news lifted my spirits, and I decided to take a stroll. But as I passed a dark corridor, a hand shot out and yanked me into a storage closet. The room was pitch-black, the moonlight unable to pierce the gloom. I felt warm lips press against my neck, and a voice, thick with hurt, murmured in my ear. "I won today. Why didn't you come see me?" 4. I sagged against him, letting Liam hold me. "And let the media have another field day? 'The Pathetic Mrs. Thorne, Still Groveling After Her Husband at a Race.' No, thank you." Everyone knew our marriage was a sham. Every time I showed up for one of Richard’s races, the tabloids had a feast. In the darkness, the man behind me went still. "I'm sorry." Then, as if angered by his own apology, he spun me around, his mouth finding mine in the dark and crushing it with a desperate force. "He doesn't deserve you," he growled against my lips. "He humiliates you like that, and I don't even have the right to be angry!" Overwhelmed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing closer. "You're right, I am humiliated," I whispered. "Maybe giving me the Southport development project would cheer me up." His mood didn't lighten. A sharp pain bloomed on my lip. He’d bitten me. "I'm serious, Eleanor. Just divorce him. Please." I traced the line of his jaw. "You don't understand." The air grew cold. After a long moment, Liam pushed me away. "Fine. Do what you want. But I'm done playing this little game of house, sneaking around in the shadows." He threw the door open and was gone. I sighed, smoothing my hair before stepping back into the light. The party was now in full swing. In the center of the dance floor, Richard and Mia were locked in a sensual dance, their bodies grinding together as her lips brushed against his, once, twice, three times. I picked up a glass of champagne, thinking it was probably for the best. When the song ended, Richard spotted me. He walked over, smoothly took the glass from my hand, and drained it. I frowned but said nothing. "So, Ellie? What did you think? A good show?" I considered it. "Very beautiful." They were a stunning pair, their movements more artful than sleazy. It was, objectively, easy on the eyes. Richard's smile froze, then faded. "Is that so." He was angry, though for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. And I was too tired to care. As the party broke up, his mood was still dark. The chauffeur was about to pull away when a figure darted out in front of the car. 5. Richard’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "I arranged for a car to take you home." Mia stood her ground. "I sent him away. I've been drinking tonight, Richard. I want you to stay with me." I leaned against the window, watching my husband navigate his affair with a detached curiosity. Richard’s brow furrowed. "Be good. I'll see you tomorrow. Go home." Her lower lip trembled, her eyes welling with tears. "No. If you're angry, then just tell the driver to run me over." The breathtaking arrogance of someone who knows they are loved. Just as I expected, Richard’s expression softened. He turned to me. "Ellie, if you don't want her in the car, I'll send her away." I opened my door. "It's fine. It's late and not safe. It's normal for a young woman to want some attention." I moved to the front seat. "You two take the back." From behind me, I heard Richard laugh. "Well, if my wife doesn't mind, get in." But Mia didn't move. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, were fixed on Richard. "But... I'm not used to sharing a car with another woman. I have... so many secrets I want to tell you." Richard tapped my shoulder. "Ellie, you heard her." I closed my eyes in weary resignation. "It's one in the morning. She won't find a cab out here." Still, she stood there, a stubborn statue in the headlights. Richard got out and opened my door himself. "Get out. I thought you were supposed to be the understanding one." I stood on the curb as Mia slid into the car, flashing me a triumphant smile. "Richard, I love your racing trophy. Can I play with it?" The car sped off, and I heard Richard's voice drift back on the wind. "It's not worth much. Play with it all you want." A bitter laugh escaped me. Richard was intensely territorial. His possessions were sacred. Once, I had merely tried to dust one of his trophies, and he had screamed at me. The difference between being loved and not being loved was brutally clear. He loved his first love, and by extension, even her substitute was granted special privileges. The car disappeared, leaving me alone with the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The sea and sky blended into a single, dark expanse. I rubbed my arms against the chill, feeling utterly alone in the vastness of the world. Then, a jacket was thrown unceremoniously over my shoulders. "Still watching? What's so fascinating about a scumbag like that? If you're actually upset, I'll lose all respect for you." The scent of jealousy was thick in the air. I shook my head, blinking back the single tear that threatened to fall, and turned, burying my face in his chest. "I thought you were done with me." 6. Liam’s cedarwood cologne enveloped me. "Don't get cocky, Eleanor. I didn't give in to you. I gave in to myself." I got into his car. "Where to? Your place or mine?" he asked. I shook my head. "Home." After the fiasco on the yacht, I knew the paparazzi photos would soon be everywhere. My life was about to get very complicated. Liam didn't argue, but he drove the car further and further away from the city, until the lights and buildings vanished behind us. He parked on a deserted overlook, got out, and walked around to my side. He lifted me into his arms, settled back into the driver's seat, and positioned me so I was straddling his lap. Our faces were an inch apart. His eyes burned into mine. "Eleanor, I've been your dirty little secret for a long time. Don't you think I deserve a reward for being so easily placated?" I leaned in and gave him a soft, fleeting kiss. But he gripped my waist, pulling me tighter. "One day, Ellie," he murmured against my mouth, "I'm going to kiss you in the daylight for the whole world to see." The air in the car thickened with a heady, forbidden energy. As my senses began to swim, I managed to whisper, "Is that so? Then you'd better hurry up." Steam slowly fogged the windows, blurring the world outside, and for a long time, there was only us. Later, Liam patiently dressed me and drove me home. But when he pulled up to my house, he couldn't let me go. "I'll hurry, Ellie. I promise." I nodded, rewarding him with a soft kiss on his cheek. "Good. I'll be waiting." I never expected Richard to be home. After Mia's performance tonight, I'd been sure he'd stay with her. But as I opened the door, there he was, sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "Why are you so late?" "I thought you'd know, since you abandoned me at the port," I said, my voice calm. "It's not easy to get a cab from there. I waited a long time." A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He stood, about to say something. But then his gaze dropped to my mouth. The guilt vanished, replaced by a storm of pure rage that twisted his features into a terrifying mask. He lunged forward, his thumb pressing hard against my lips, smearing and rubbing until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. I realized then that my lips were swollen and bruised. "Eleanor," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Tell me. Who the hell are you cheating on me with?" 7. His fingers clamped around my jaw, the pressure excruciating. "I... don't have a taste for affairs," I choked out. "I just tripped and hit my mouth. Think about it, Richard. In all these years, after everything you've done, have I ever once been unfaithful to you?" I had guarded my secret with Liam meticulously. But Richard's fury only grew. He dragged me into the bathroom and slammed me against the mirror. "Look at yourself, Eleanor! Look at the state you're in!" "Tell me who he is!" he roared. "Who dares to make a fool of me? I'll destroy him!" I shakily met my own reflection. My hair and clothes were perfectly neat. But my face was flushed with a lingering heat, and my lips were swollen to a bright, bee-stung red that my lipstick couldn't conceal. I looked like a ripe peach, bruised and ready to burst. My mind raced. Finally, I let a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. "You're right. I went out and found someone. A male model from a club. He was attentive, and his words were so sweet." "Why should you be the only one to have your fun, Richard?" I taunted. "Your Mias and your Chloes. Don't I deserve a little entertainment of my own? It's only fair." The storm on his face unexpectedly cleared. He released my jaw, a look of twisted pleasure dawning in his eyes. "Ellie," he breathed, almost delighted. "You're jealous, aren't you?" I rubbed my aching jaw, my answer deliberately vague. "Does it matter?" His mood lifted instantly. He stroked my cheek, his voice softening. "Fine. I'll get rid of Mia. That's simple enough. But Eleanor, don't you dare mess around outside this house. Your family is depending on you." I lowered my gaze, hiding the cold triumph in my eyes. "Yes. I know." Our marriage was, after all, a lifeline my family had begged for. 8. The next morning, as predicted, my phone blew up with entertainment alerts. They were all about Richard and Mia's intimate night on the yacht. Then, the call I was expecting came. "Eleanor. Come home." The moment I stepped into my father's study, a heavy water glass flew at my head. It missed, shattering against the wall, but the message was clear. My mother stood by, a riding crop in her hand, her expression like ice. I knew that crop intimately. It was the author of the faint, silvery scars that would forever mar my back. "Eleanor, you've been married for years and you still can't control your own husband. Your father is very disappointed." A sharp pain lanced through my shoulder, a phantom echo of past punishments. By the time she was done, I was numb. My lips felt thick as I mumbled, "Is that enough? If you're going to keep going, you should probably call an ambulance first." The sound of the crop whipping through the air was the sound of the last, frayed thread of affection between us snapping. My mother stopped, as if waking from a trance. She dropped the crop and stared at my bleeding back, her face crumpling. "Oh, Ellie..." she sobbed, rushing forward. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I'm just so scared... so scared of making your father angry." She fumbled to apply ointment, her large, guilty tears splashing onto my raw skin. It was a jarring transformation from the merciless woman who had wielded the crop moments before. This was her pattern. My father was a philanderer; my illegitimate half-sister was only a year younger than me. He doted on his other family, showering them with affection. My mother and I only received his smiles when I excelled, when my achievements brought him glory. So, my mother learned her lesson. My success was her weapon to win back her husband's favor. When I failed, she grew angry. And when she was angry, I was punished. After every beating, she would cry, apologize, and whisper how much she loved me, coddling me through the pain late into the night. With those tiny, rationed crumbs of love, she had controlled me for over twenty years. As a child, I would have said, "It doesn't hurt, Mom. Please don't cry. I'll make Daddy proud." But now, I pushed her hands away. I walked to the door and looked back at her, my voice formal and final. "Goodbye, Mother."

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