Present Day

The wedding day.

There was nothing to celebrate about today.

Nothing joyful.

Nothing sacred.

Nothing worth remembering.

But the Collins family had turned her already embarrassing wedding into a spectacle.

A cruel performance.

Elena, Joy, Henry and Victor had invited their friends, neighbors, business partners, and even distant acquaintances. People who had no reason to be there.

People who came only to mock her

To witness her humiliation.

The hall was filled with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Expensive perfume mixed with the smell of alcohol and roasted meat.

Music played softly in the background, as if this was a real celebration.

Emily stood in the center of the hall, her body stiff, her face blank.

Her white dress felt heavy and big on her.

In front of her stood the groom.

Not a man.

A cardboard cutout.

A lifeless image propped upright on a stand.

Tall….Well-dressed…. Handsome

A low wave of laughter rippled through the crowd again.

“I heard he never shows his face.”

“Maybe he is too ugly to show his face in public places”

“Imagine marrying that.”

“Imagine being the hundredth wife”

More laughter followed their words.

Emily forced herself to smile.

Her lips stretched into a polite smile, even as her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

Her fingers curled into her palms, nails digging into her skin to keep herself steady.

The priest stood beside her, holding a small book in his hands. His voice sounded nervous, rushed, as if even he wanted this ceremony to end quickly.

This kind of marriage was supposed to be private.

Quiet.

Hidden.

Done without witnesses.

Just the family.

Just the priest.

But the Collins family had invited everyone.

Just to shame her.

Just to make sure she would never forget this day.

“You may face the groom,” the officiating priest said.

Emily turned slowly.

Her movements felt mechanical, like her body no longer belonged to her.

Her eyes landed on the cardboard figure.

The image was blurry.

Distorted.

She could not make out his face clearly.

Ghost truly lived up to his name.

A man who existed only in whispers, only few people knew what he looked like.

A man people feared but never saw.

A man she was now married to.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The priest’s voice echoed through the hall.

For a moment, everywhere went quiet.

Then…..

Another wave of laughter exploded through the room.

Emily kept smiling.

Even as something deep inside her cracked quietly.

The ceremony ended quickly.

Without warmth.

Without blessings.

Without love.

No one came to hug her.

No one congratulated her.

No one wished her happiness.

Instead, they rushed her outside.

Hands grabbed her arms. Voices pushed her forward. The music grew louder, drowning out the sound of her own heartbeat.

They shoved her into a car immediately afterward, tossing a small duffel bag beside her.

Her entire life reduced to a single bag.

A few clothes.

A toothbrush.

Nothing else.

The door slammed shut.

Emily turned her head slowly and looked through the window.

The Collins family stood outside, waving dramatically.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Mocking her.

Joy blew her a kiss.

Henry raised a glass in the air.

Victor pretended to wipe away fake tears.

Elena clapped her hands like she had just finished watching a show.

Emily did not wave back.

She leaned her head against the cold glass, staring at the passing buildings as the car began to move.

Her reflection stared back at her.

She looked pale, empty and tired.

Last night, she had overheard them laughing…. placing bets on her life.

Mary and Elena bet one day.

Joy, Henry, and Collins chose two days.

Victor gave her a week.

A week before she died.

Emily closed her eyes slowly.

Her chest tightened painfully, like something heavy was sitting on top of it.

She had spent years loving those monsters.

The car drove on in silence.

No one spoke.

The driver kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face cold and expressionless.

Time passed.

Minutes.

Maybe hours.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

Her heart beat faster with every mile.

“We are here,” the driver said suddenly.

His voice broke the silence.

Emily blinked.

She had no idea how long they had been driving.

She slowly pushed the door open and stepped out of the car.

A massive, tall, dark gate stood before her.

It was slightly opened, through it she could see a huge mansion.

Surrounded by armed men.

Her throat went dry.

Fear crawled slowly up her spine.

The driver did not wait.

The car sped away immediately, tires screeching against the ground, leaving her alone in the silence.

Emily stood there, frozen.

Her hands tightened around her bag, pressing it against her chest as if it could protect her.

She had no choice.

There was nowhere else to go.

Slowly, she walked forward.

Her legs trembled slightly.

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest.

She couldn't just walk inside even though it was slightly opened.

Her hand shook as she reached for the bell.

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then she pressed it.

A loud mechanical sound echoed through the air.

The gates began to open slowly.

Metal grinding against metal.

Emily stepped back instinctively as the gates parted.

A man in a security uniform approached her.

His face was hard.

“Who are you?” he asked.

His voice was cold.

Her throat tightened immediately.

What was she supposed to say?

How was she supposed to introduce herself?

Her lips parted slowly.

“I… my name is Emily,” she said nervously.

“I’m Ghost’s wife.”

The words sounded ridiculous even to her own ears.

It was embarrassing and humiliating.

But the man did not laugh.

He did not react.

He simply moved aside for her to walk in.

“Follow me”

She follows him further into the compound ignoring the men in black walking around with huge guns.

“Stand here,” he instructed, pointing to a marked spot.

Emily obeyed immediately.

Her body moved before her mind could think.

She stepped onto the spot and stood still, clutching her bag tightly.

“I will go get Madam Florence,” he said. “Wait here.”

She nodded quickly.

Who was Madam Florence?

Her eyes drifted around the compound.

The compound had two massive buildings, a very beautiful mansion on the right and another beautiful building on the far left.

Her eyes settles on the armed men who didn't seem affected by her presence.

Maybe because she doesn't in any way look like a threat.

The men walking nearby looked dangerous.

Their eyes were sharp and their hands were never far from their weapons.

A sudden commotion near the mansion on the right caught her attention.

A group of men in dark suits emerged from the building, walking quickly with purpose.

They surrounded one man.

The man at the center.

Emily stared openly.

He was breathtaking.

His commanding posture, and confident steps made him look like someone who ruled the world.

Every movement carried authority and control.

Everyone around him bowed their heads slightly.

The air itself seemed to bend around him.

A chill ran down Emily’s spine.

That can’t be him…

That's Ghost?

Her husband?

Her heart began to pound violently.

She stared.

Unable to look away.

As if sensing her gaze, the man suddenly stopped walking.

Slowly….

He turned his head and looked directly at her.

Even from that distance, the intensity in his eyes struck her like lightning.

The recognition in them startled her.

A gasp escaped her lips.

Her breath disappeared.

Her fingers loosened.

The bag slipped from her hand and hit the ground with a dull thud.

Her entire body trembled.

It was him.

It was Damien.

The man she helped that day.

The man she lost her virginity to.

The man who dumped her on the side of the road after they had had sex.

Her chest tightened painfully.

Her vision blurred.

She took a careful step forward.

The man was just staring at her.

Watching her.

Everyone around him stood frozen too.

From the slight raise of his eyebrow, she knew.

He recognized her.

“Damien?” she called out.

Her voice echoed across the compound.

And it was as if the wind itself stopped moving.

A terrifying silence grips the atmosphere.

The men around him immediately dropped their heads.

Their eyes widened in shock.

Fear flashed across their faces.

Emily took a step back.

Confused.

What happened?

Did she say something wrong?

Suddenly…

A woman appeared in front of her.

A slap landed across her cheek.

The sound echoed loudly.

Emily gasped.

Her head snapped to the side.

Pain burned across her face.

She lifted her hand slowly, holding her cheek in shock.

“Hold her down,” the woman ordered.

“What did I do-” Emily tried to speak.

Another slap crashed across her face.

“Grab her.”

Two men stepped forward immediately.

They seized her arms and started dragging her backward.

Fear exploded inside her chest.

Her heart raced wildly.

Scared, she turned her head desperately, searching for help.

Her eyes found him.

He was still standing there.

Still watching her.

Still silent.

“Damien,” she calls again, her voice breaking.

The woman slapped her again.

“Stop talking,” she gritted out.

Emily felt her vision blur.

Tears filled her eyes but she doesn't cry.

She kept staring at Damien as he walked calmly toward his car.

He did not speak.

He did not look back.

The car door opened.

He stepped inside.

The door closed.

Six black cars drove past her….One after another.

“Lock her up,” the woman instructed coldly.

“On what offense? What did I do?”

The woman turned slowly and stared at her.

“What did you do?” the woman repeated. “ Lock her up”

“I’m Ghost’s wife,” she rushed to say.

“You can't treat me like this.”

Laughter broke out among the men in the compound.

The woman leaned closer to her.

Her breath was warm against Emily’s face.

“Ghost’s wife?” she mocked, laughing softly.

“That doesn't mean anything here, sweetheart.”

She grabbed Emily’s jaw roughly, forcing her to look up.

Pain shot through her face.

Emily stared at her.

The woman looked to be in her forties. Her eyes were sharp and hardened.

Danger radiated from her.

“More than fifty other women bear that title here…You aren't special sweetheart” the woman continued.

Emily’s stomach dropped.

“The next time you call that name again,” the woman whispered slowly,

“I'll cut your tongue out and send it to your family.”

She released her jaw.

“Lock her up.”

Emily was dragged across the compound.

Her feet stumbled.

Her body struggled.

But it was useless.

The iron door opened with a loud creak.

They threw her into a cold dark cell.

Her body hit the floor painfully.

The iron bars slammed shut behind her.

Metal clanged.

The lock clicked.

She scrambled to her feet immediately.

Her hands grabbed the iron bars.

“Let me out!” she screamed.

Her voice echoed through the small space.

“This can't be happening!”

Fear wrapped tightly around her throat.

She shook the bars again.

Harder.

Desperate.

“It’s no use,” a voice said behind her.

“Save your strength.”

Emily froze for a second.

She turned around sharply…

Her eyes widened.

A young woman sat in the corner of the cell…. Dressed in a short thin gown that was barely covering her body.

Her makeup was smudged, her eyes looked tired, she didn't look dangerous.

“Is that supposed to be a wedding dress?”

Emily looks down at her dress.

“That's ugly as fuck!”

“Who are you?” She asked.

The girl tilted her head slightly.

A small smile touched her lips.

“Eve,” she said.

She studied Emily carefully.

“I'm guessing you're new?.”

Emily nods.

The girl let out a soft chuckle.

“What did you do to land yourself here already?” Eve asked.

Emily released a shaky breath.

Her hands slowly slipped from the bars.

Her shoulders dropped.

“I don't even know,” she whispered.

Eve leaned back against the wall.

Her smile turned dark.

“Well,” she said quietly,

“Welcome to hell, Emily.”

Emily stared at the girl called Eve as she continued laughing uncontrollably.

Eve held her stomach and nearly rolled on the floor, her laughter echoing inside the basement cell.

“You think–” another burst of laughter cut her off before she could finish. She wiped tears from the corner of her eyes, still laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “Oh my God…..my stomach…”

Emily only stared at her in confusion.

Finally, Eve managed to calm down a little.

“You think because you did a wedding with a cardboard picture of Ghost, you’re actually married to him?” Eve asked before another laugh escaped her lips.

Emily’s fingers tightened around the rough fabric of her wedding gown.

“Honey, you were sold to Ghost. Not married to him,” Eve added, still grinning.

Slowly, she drops herself on the cold floor. The ugly shapeless wedding gown spread around her like crumpled paper.

She had hated the dress because of how plain and embarrassing it looked.

Now she was strangely grateful for it.

At least it covered her body.

“Are there really a lot of girls here?” Emily asked quietly.

“Yup.” Eve popped the p lazily. “A lot.”

Emily swallowed hard.

“We were all sold by our families. Some by parents. Some by uncles. Some by husbands. Some by relatives they trusted.” Eve shrugged carelessly. “Didn’t matter to Ghost though. As long as you carry the debtor’s last name, that’s enough.”

So many women.

So many people abandoned by the ones who were supposed to protect them.

For a second, she wondered how many of them cried on their first day here.

How many begged.

How many tried to escape.

How many survived.

Eve stared at her for a moment before sighing.

“Look girl, let me advise you for your own good. Remove that thought from your head about being Ghost’s wife.”

Emily slowly looked at her.

“You’re a slave that was sold to him. That’s the mentality you need if you want to survive here.”

Before Emily could ask another question, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the basement.

Both girls looked up immediately.

A woman in a dark security uniform stood outside the cell.

Her expression looked permanently angry.

“Emily.”

Emily slowly raised her hand like a frightened child in class.

The woman glared at her so hard Emily almost shrank backward.

What the hell did she even do?

Eve laughed from behind her.

“Don’t be scared Emily. That’s Dora. A bitch that hates everyone for breathing.”

The woman suddenly slammed the iron cell violently.

The loud bang echoed through the basement.

Emily screamed in shock and jumped backward so fast she nearly fell.

“You better watch your mouth, you whore!” Dora snapped, pointing a whip toward Eve.

Eve looked completely relaxed.

Emily couldn’t understand it.

The woman looked insane.

“What? Mama Florence didn’t give you permission for a whip, dog?” Eve shot back lazily.

Emily’s eyes widened.

Why was she provoking her?

Was she trying to die?

Dora unlocked the cell aggressively and stormed inside.

Emily immediately pressed herself against the wall, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

Dora marched toward Eve, fury burning in her eyes.

But Eve barely reacted.

“Get off my face, Dora.”

“Oh bitch, you better pray you don’t break any rule anytime soon,” Dora hissed. “And I also pray I’m the one holding the whip.”

Eve actually laughed.

Emily stared at her in disbelief.

“Get off my face, dog.”

Dora looked seconds away from tearing her apart.

Then suddenly her attention shifted toward Emily.

“You. Out!”

Emily nearly jumped out of her skin.

She hurried outside the cell immediately.

Dora stepped out too and slammed the iron door shut loudly before locking it.

She kept glaring at Eve for a few more seconds before finally turning away.

Emily followed her silently upstairs.

The basement had smelled damp and suffocating, but somehow outside felt even scarier.

Two female guards stood near the exit.

One of them held Emily’s bag like she was holding trash.

“Is this yours?”

Emily nodded quickly.

The woman tossed the bag toward her carelessly. Emily barely caught it before it hit the floor.

“Another fish,” one of the guards muttered.

Fish?

Emily frowned slightly.

Why were they calling her that?

Dora nodded toward her.

“Follow me.”

Emily obeyed immediately.

As they walked outside, Emily noticed they were heading toward the building on the left.

Her eyes drifted toward the massive mansion on the right.

The mansion Damien had walked out from earlier.

The mansion everyone seemed terrified of.

Suddenly fingers dug painfully into her jaw.

Emily screamed.

Her bag dropped to the ground as Dora yanked her face roughly toward her.

“See that mansion over there?” Dora asked coldly.

Emily nodded quickly, fear exploding inside her chest.

“You don’t look at it. You don’t think about it. You don’t go near it if you want to live longer here.”

Emily kept nodding frantically.

“Fish like you come here thinking you’re special.” Dora’s grip tightened painfully. “Ghost doesn’t know you. I could kill you here right now and nobody would care.”

Emily closed her eyes immediately.

“I understand,” she whispered shakily.

“Know your place.”

Emily nods again.

Dora released her face harshly, making her stumble backward slightly.

Her jaw burned.

Quickly, Emily bent down and picked up her bag again before following Dora inside the building.

The moment she entered, her steps slowed.

Women.

Everywhere.

The huge living room was filled with women.

Some sat together laughing.

Some danced near the music playing softly in one corner.

Others played cards around a table.

A few simply lounged around talking.

But the thing Emily noticed most…

Was how beautiful they all were.

Beautiful enough to belong on magazine covers.

Beautiful enough to make her feel painfully ordinary.

These were all Ghost’s wives.

Women sold here just like her.

Women trapped here.

Her chest tightened.

Ghost.

Damien.

Were they really the same person?

But the man she met six months ago did not feel like the terrifying devil everyone described.

That man smiled.

That man joked with her.

That man called her beautiful when nobody else ever had.

The Ghost she heard about sounded cruel and monstrous.

The Damien she met in that car felt dangerously human.

Maybe it was because–

“Follow me,” Dora snapped.

Emily quickly looked away and followed her down a long corridor.

Some women glanced at her briefly before losing interest immediately.

New girls probably walked through these doors all the time.

She wasn’t special here.

Just another addition.

Dora stopped in front of a door and knocked once.

“What is it?” a voice called from inside.

“It’s the new fish,” Dora answered.

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

So they were truly going to keep calling her fish.

“Let her in.”

Dora opened the door and stepped aside.

“Go in.”

Emily slowly entered.

Madam Florence sat behind a desk, smoke curling lazily around her fingers from the cigarette she held.

The office was surprisingly small compared to the mansion.

Books filled almost every shelf.

Emily wondered what kind of work required this many books in a place like this.

Madam Florence blew smoke into the air.

She didn’t offer Emily a seat.

Emily didn’t dare sit anyway.

“What’s your name?”

“Emily–”

She stopped herself.

Collins.

The name suddenly tasted disgusting inside her mouth.

That surname belonged to murderers.

To monsters.

She didn’t want it attached to her anymore.

Madam Florence watched her carefully.

“Don’t you have a surname?”

Emily hesitated.

“I don’t want it attached to my name anymore.”

The older woman laughed softly.

“You hate your father for selling you.”

Emily stayed silent.

Where would she even begin?

How could she explain that the people who sold her were also her parents’ killers?

“How tragic,” Madam Florence murmured mockingly. “What’s the name of the man who sold you?”

Emily hesitated again.

“Collins.”

“That name will remain attached to you until you find a way to change it.”

Emily wanted to ask how.

But the next question froze her completely.

“How do you know Ghost?”

Emily’s heart skipped violently.

She suddenly wasn’t sure anymore.

Was Damien really Ghost?

Emily opened her mouth.

Then closed it again.

“I don’t know him.”

Madam Florence stared at her silently.

Then suddenly…….

Her body is slammed painfully against the door.

A cry escaped her lips.

Pain exploded across her back.

Before she could react, Madam Florence grabbed her arm and pressed the burning cigarette against her skin.

Emily screamed.

The smell of burnt flesh filled the room instantly.

Tears rushed into her eyes as she struggled violently.

Pain shot through her entire arm.

She shoved Madam Florence away with all her strength.

The woman staggered backward slightly.

Emily breathed heavily, clutching her burning arm.

“On your knees!” Madam Florence barked.

Emily stared at her in disbelief.

Enough.

Enough of kneeling.

Enough of obedience.

Enough of spending her entire life bowing to monsters.

The pain in her arm hurts.

“I said get on your knees!”

“Fuck you!” Emily snapped.

The words shocked even her.

Silence filled the office.

A dangerous silence.

Let’s just say it did not end well for her.

Minutes later, Emily was thrown back into the basement cell with a busted lip and aching ribs.

Her bag landed beside her roughly.

The cell door slammed shut.

Eve stared at her for one second before bursting into loud laughter.

“Oh boy…” Eve wheezed between laughs. “You’re going to be worse than me.”