Viola

I didn’t care at all about what he was saying. I walked inside with Mom. I thought to myself, I’m just staying here for a little while. I’ll bother him so much that he’ll either end up divorcing Mom or he’ll finally get so annoyed that he tells me to go live with Dad—or maybe I’ll just leave.

He was so full of himself, way too confident, even if he was rich. But he couldn’t control me.

Some servants walked with me to his office—I wasn’t sure if they were assistants or something else. He had important papers and phones all around him.

Mom seemed to know her way around the house completely. She said, Come on, let me show you your room upstairs.

I went upstairs with her. The room was huge, and there were maids everywhere. I have to admit, it was really impressive. My family isn’t poor or anything, but this place was on another level.

He must be a billionaire. Okay, fine, I said. They opened my room and I was shocked. Everything I loved was there. I looked at Mom and asked, Did you decorate this room?

She answered, No, why?

I couldn’t even think straight. Did Mom’s husband look me up and figure out everything I like? The whole room was olive green, the color I love the most. He even put certain small trees I really like, those expensive bonsai types.

I really love bonsai trees. There was one on the desk. The desk looked like someone made it just for me. On top there was a brand-new laptop and a new iPad. Everything was ready for me. If my boyfriend did this, it would be sweet, but for a stepdad, it just felt strange and made me suspicious.

Mom, I said, haven’t you noticed he got everything I like?

She put my things on a shelf and said, He’s really thoughtful. He told me he wants you to be happy here. He doesn’t have kids, but he likes children.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. If you think I’m a child, Mom, I’m 18. Girls my age are already getting married.

Mom didn’t answer that. She just said, Anyway, there’s a closet full of clothes for you. The maid will bring your party dress soon. Rest a bit, then come to lunch with us. Please stay in for the party tonight.

Mom, I’ve told you a million times—I’m going to my party tonight.

She said, There’s a lot of trouble at that party. Mark said girls usually lose really important things there.

I raised my eyebrows and put my hands on my hips. Who is this Mark to tell me how to live my life? My dad is alive. Dad would let me go to the party.

I have to go now, she said. I need to take a shower and spend some time with Mark. We’re newlyweds, you know? Her face turned red.

I looked at her. The staff all left. I told them, Please leave me alone.

There was a dress lying on the bed, shoes, and a necklace in a box. I opened the box. Wow. I thought, If he’s giving this to me, what is he giving Mom? I really wanted to know. Then I decided, whatever. I’ll just wear this to the party tonight. I’ll be the best-looking girl there. After the party, I’ll figure out how to bother them, make him annoyed, and maybe get him to throw me out.

I took out my phone. Let me see how much this necklace and these earrings cost. I checked online and found out they were a hundred thousand dollars. I was shocked, but that just showed how rich he is.

The maid kept standing there. Miss, you should take a shower. I’ll help you.

No, I said, I don’t want any help. I’ll shower alone.

She wouldn’t leave. Come on, please get out. I’m not used to having someone help me.

I can’t, she said. Mr. Mark ordered me to help you while you’re here.

I felt so frustrated. Fine, just get the bathroom ready. It was the first time in my life someone did that for me.

Then I saw what it meant: warm water, flower petals, nice-smelling bubbles—super fancy, really. She even helped me get undressed. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t embarrassed, even though it was the first time I changed clothes in front of someone else.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, a man’s voice. The maid said, It’s Mr. Mark.

I’m in here, I shouted. Please don’t come in—I’m taking a shower.

He laughed from outside. Don’t worry, I’m not coming in. You’re like my daughter now.

I was annoyed. I’m 18.

I yelled, Just get out. Go hang out with your wife.

He said, Okay, I just wanted to say the party is going to start a little early tonight.

I let out a loud sigh. Fine, whatever.

Seven is way too early. My other party starts at nine. I thought, I will go downstairs for a while, then maybe sneak out to meet my friends at the gate, ride with them, and go have fun. We’ll hang out, dance, and do whatever we want.

Because tonight, I really wanted to try something different. I’ve never had a boyfriend, never even kissed anyone.

All the other girls… I’ve always gone to boarding school. No guys ever noticed me or tried to be close. I felt so frustrated. Tonight, I just wanted to do what I wanted, whatever that might be.

I decided, fine. But first, I’m going to mess up his party.

Viola.

After finishing my shower, I stepped out and headed toward the dressing room to change into proper clothes. But then I stopped and thought, No-I'm not going to bother getting fully dressed right now. I'll just go downstairs wearing this bathrobe. He's expecting me for lunch anyway, so I'll show up in the bathrobe and see how he reacts.

The maid waiting outside the bathroom saw me heading for the stairs and immediately tried to stop me. She looked worried and said something like, "Miss, please, let me help you get dressed properly first." But I looked down at the floor, avoiding her eyes. It was tough on her-she seemed really uncomfortable and unsure what to do-but I said firmly, "It doesn't matter. I have to do this. There needs to be some consequences if I want to get what I want."

I ignored her and started walking down the stairs in just the bathrobe. The hem was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, and everyone in the hallway and on the landing stared at me. Suddenly, from the dining room below, I heard him yelling in a loud, commanding voice: "All the staff-eyes on the floor! Eyes on the floor right now!" I still had underwear on underneath, but coming down the stairs from above, the angle made it look revealing. Still, nothing was actually showing. I kept walking anyway, head held high, pretending I didn't notice the stares.

I reached the dining area where lunch was already set up on the long table. Fancy plates, silverware, and food that smelled expensive were arranged perfectly. He was sitting at the head of the table like always, and Mom was next to him. He looked up, saw me in the robe, and his face twisted in disbelief.

"Were you raised on the streets by thugs or what?" he asked, his tone sharp and mocking.

"Why?" I asked back coolly, still standing instead of sitting.

He leaned back in his chair. "Does a respectable girl come down to lunch in a bathrobe?"

"I'm not respectable," I shot back without hesitation. "If you don't like it, kick me out. If you don't like it, divorce Mom."

Mom spoke up quickly, her voice soft and nervous. "No, and I don't mind. Why would I? Even if you were completely naked, it'd be fine-you're still a kid."

He kept calling me a "kid" over and over, clearly trying to annoy me and make me feel small. "Fine," I said flatly, finally sitting down across from them.

At the table, Mom sat quietly, and he was in the big chair-like a king on a throne. He really owned the place; you could feel it in the air. He acted like royalty, like everything and everyone belonged to him.

Suddenly, he reached over and pulled Mom onto his lap right in front of me. I stared at them, shocked. "What are you doing?" I asked.

Mom's face turned bright red with embarrassment. "Not in front of the girl," she said quickly, trying to slide off.

He held her in place and laughed a little. "You say she's grown up-well, she needs to know you're my wife, and we're on our honeymoon. We can do anything, anytime. But I'm not doing anything with you right now-I just want to feed you."

Of course, I was fuming inside from all the anger and tension that had been building up. It was so provocative, so in-my-face. I couldn't stand it.

I buried my face in the food and just ate, even though some of it I didn't like at all. I was so annoyed and upset that I started complaining out loud. "This food is terrible!" I said, then threw the plate aside on purpose. The soup spilled across the floor in a messy splash. I knew I was being really rude to the staff and the chefs who had worked hard on it, but I had to do it. I needed to make him uncomfortable, to push back in any way I could.

He looked at the mess without blinking, then said coolly to the staff, "Replace it for her. Get her another plate right now." He turned back to me. "Is something bothering you?"

He was ice-cold, showing no emotions, no heart at all. He just drank his wine like nothing had happened. Of course, I'd done it on purpose-spilling from underneath the table, making a scene. What could I say? He still thought I was just a little girl he could control.

She was older than his mom, for goodness' sake.

I was hurting Mom with my words, even though I didn't mean to-it just came out in the heat of the moment. "How old are you, anyway?" I asked him. "You know Mom's about 40."

He replied coolly, not even fazed. "I'm 32. What do you want?"

"Yeah," I said, pushing harder. "What do you even like about her?"

When I saw Mom starting to cry-tears falling silently down her cheeks-I shut up immediately. Oh no, I didn't mean to hurt her like that. He must have some reason to marry someone older than him, but right then,n I didn't care to figure it out.

He hit the table hard with his big hands, making the plates rattle. "Enough!" he shouted. "You're hurting your mom, not me."

I found myself quiet for once. I got up from the chair. "I'm done eating," I said flatly. "I'm going to my room to rest before the party." But as I passed by them on my way out, I saw his hand already playing with her under the table, squeezinaske he owned her. Under my breath, I muttered, "This shameless man-does he really want to be intimate with her? Even on the dining table?"

As I walked away slowly, trying to look calm, I glanced back one last time. He cleared everything off the table with one sweep of his arm-plates, glasses, food crashing to the floor. Then he laid Mom down right on the table like it was a bed. He sat between her legs, pushed her skirt up, and started touching her intimately from underneath. She was enjoying it so much, moaning softly, her hands in his hair.

I found myself running up the stairs as fast as I could, heart pounding, face burning.

Was he really being intimate with her like that? How shameless! How could they do this with people around? I felt sick, angry, and embarrassed-all at once. I just wanted to get to my room and lock the door behind me.

Viola

I went up to my room and sat on the bed for a little while, trying to calm down after everything downstairs. I grabbed my phone and called a couple of my friends, then sent them some quick texts to check in.

"You'll see the surprise tonight," I messaged one of them with a winking emoji. I had a big crush on one of my classmates-he had beautiful hair and an amazing build. All the girls at school chased after him. Honestly, I really wanted him tonight. I wanted to feel something exciting, something that was just for me.

The dress Mom's husband had brought with the outfit? It was perfect. Definitely, the guys at the party would be all over me tonight.

I kept checking the clock every few minutes, waiting impatiently so I could get up, start getting dressed, do my makeup, and style my hair. I wanted everything to look perfect. And sure enough, as soon as it hit 6:00, the maids knocked gently on my door. "We're ready to help you get dressed and prepared for the party," one of them said politely. "It's in an hour-that's Mr. Mark's orders."

"Fine," I said, trying to sound casual even though I was buzzing with excitement. What did that mean exactly? I wouldn't go down to see the party guests, cause a little chaos, embarrass him in front of everyone, make him look bad, and then head to my own party, have fun, lose my first time, and hook up with someone new.

Dad, I'd win the bet-everything. And honestly, the makeup, hair, everything-they were pros. They worked quickly and made me look incredible.

I was impressed, even with my own look after I got dressed. Then I put on the dress and shoes. It was about 7:10. They said, "Now you're ready. Mr. Mark has arrived-you need to go down now."

"Whatever," I said, and headed downstairs. The atmosphere was straight out of a celebrity event-for a billionaire, no doubt. He really went all out.

The artists I saw? I'd only seen them on TV before, but they were even better-looking in person. I couldn't have imagined the level he brought. I didn't get it-this party was supposedly for the wedding and moving to the new palace, or Mom's move-in.

The new palace? Clearly, this place had been his for a long time. And everyone was all over him, showing him way too much respect. I even saw a couple of ministers bowing to him slightly.

He must be super important, but not to the point of them kissing his feet or anything-just extra respect on top of the norm.

Of course, I didn't care. I went down and mingled in the hall. As soon as I spotted the bar, I started grabbing glass after glass of whatever looked interesting.

Mom came over close to me and whispered, "How can you be drinking?" Her voice was super low-she was worried someone would notice. At 18, I could lose my first time any time, and she was shocked.

"What?" I said. "Don't act as if you care. You've never cared about me. All you care about is your life, living it up, getting married, falling in love, hooking up. Leave me alone-don't embarrass me tonight."

Mom backed off. She went to stand with her guests for a bit. Then Mom's husband came up to me and snatched the glass from my hand, handing it to a waiter. "What the heck do you think you're doing?"

He leaned in low, close to my face. He was tall-about 30 cm taller than me, by the way. "What you're doing is wrong. You think you can embarrass me? I could punish you right here in front of all these people, and no one would say a word."

"You? Punish me?" I shot back. "Who do you think you are? My dad? My own husband?"

He said sarcastically, "If I were your husband, I wouldn't let you out of your room at all."

I gulped nervously.

His words made my heart race-not interest or attraction, but straight-up fear.

I started looking at him differently, staring into his eyes. Was this the guy I'd dreamed about my whole life? How could Mom's husband be the type of dominant, strong character who protects me but controls me at the same time?

I'd always wanted a controlling guy, but I snapped out of it. "He married Mom, idiot. Get him to kick me out, leave us both."

Anyway, I backed away from him, pretending his words annoyed me. "I need to go to the bathroom."

I headed upstairs. After I got there, of course, I checked the time on my phone. My friends were waiting-I'd sent them the palace location. Great.

Without anyone seeing me, I'd slip out the back gate, head to the party, hit the bar, dance, flirt with someone, and finally feel like a real woman.