The First drops of poison

Charlotte

The fertilization process began as planned. Richard made sure everything was organized with surgical precision, and I underwent procedures that felt more like a clinical experiment than the creation of new life. The nurses were professional and distant, treating me as just another body to be manipulated. The coldness of it all was overwhelming, making me even more aware of the brutal reality I had involved myself in.

In the days that followed, I noticed a subtle, yet disturbing, change in Richard's behavior. He began to exert even greater control over every aspect of my life. Although the marriage was just a contract, Richard seemed determined to constantly remind me of my role and responsibilities within our "arrangement." Bit by bit, I was stripped of any illusion of freedom or autonomy.

One morning, while I was in the living room trying to find some comfort amidst the luxury surrounding me, Marta, Richard’s mother, appeared without warning. Her presence was like a storm, bringing with it an immediate sense of tension and discomfort. She entered the room unceremoniously, her eyes sharp as blades, and her expression laden with disdain was impossible to ignore.

“I see you’ve finally settled in,” she said, her voice sharp as a knife. “I hope you’re aware of what’s at stake here, Charlotte.”

I looked up at her, trying not to show the discomfort her presence caused me. “I am aware, yes, ma’am.”

Marta stepped closer, her eyes fixed on mine, as if trying to read my thoughts, and in a threatening tone, she said, “My son doesn’t make decisions lightly. He chose you because he believes you can fulfill this role without complications. Don’t think you have the slightest chance of failing.”

My heart started to race, but I kept my composure. “I don’t intend to disappoint.”

She let out a low, scornful laugh and moved even closer, her penetrating gaze daring me to look away. “I hope not. Because if you do, there are many ways to make your life unbearable. You have no idea what I’m willing to do to protect this family’s future.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and loaded with implications. Before I could respond, Marta turned and left the room, leaving me with a lump in my throat and a growing sense of dread. I knew she was serious. The way she had approached me, the intensity in her eyes, everything indicated that Marta was willing to go to any lengths to maintain control over everything and everyone around her, including me.

The following days were a true test of emotional endurance. Marta wasn’t satisfied with just making veiled threats; she started appearing more frequently, always with subtle criticisms and acidic comments that constantly reminded me of my place. Each encounter was a silent battle, where I tried to keep my dignity intact, even knowing that every word Marta spoke was designed to diminish and subjugate me.

Richard, for his part, seemed indifferent to the way his mother treated me. It was as if he agreed with every word she said. He rarely spoke to me, except to give specific instructions or discuss details of our "agreement." His coldness and distance were devastating, and I began to feel crushed under the weight of it all.

One afternoon, while I was in the library trying to distract myself with reading, Richard entered, bringing with him the heavy atmosphere that now seemed to follow him everywhere. He seemed more serious than usual, and I sensed that something was about to happen.

“Charlotte,” he said, his voice hard, “I need you to sign some documents that my mother prepared. She’s handling some financial and legal aspects of our agreement.”

I stood up, feeling the tension rise. “What kind of documents?”

“Formalities,” he replied, handing me a stack of papers. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just sign them and leave the rest to us.”

I looked at the documents, but the terms were complex, and the legal language was almost incomprehensible. “Richard, I’d like to understand what I’m signing. Can I have a little time to review?”

He frowned, as if my hesitation was a personal affront. “Charlotte, we’ve already discussed this. These documents are part of the agreement. There’s no need to complicate things.”

I felt the pressure mounting, but something inside me refused to give in. “I just need a little time, Richard. I’m not saying I won’t sign, I just want to be sure of what I’m agreeing to.”

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes darkening. “I’m not asking, Charlotte. I’m telling you to sign now.”

My heart raced, and for the first time, I felt real fear of Richard. His posture was intimidating, and the tone of his voice made it clear he wasn’t willing to discuss it. Marta’s words echoed in my mind: “Don’t think you have the slightest chance of failing.”

With trembling hands, I picked up the pen and began signing the documents, feeling each signature like a chain binding me even more to this situation. When I finished, I handed the papers to Richard, who took them without a word of thanks.

“Good,” he said simply. “This is what I expected.”

He turned to leave, but before I could process what had just happened, I felt a wave of revolt rising inside me. I couldn’t keep being treated like a puppet, manipulated and controlled by everyone around me. I needed to find a way to resist, to fight for some autonomy.

That night, after the mansion had gone silent, I decided I wouldn’t stay silent anymore. Marta and Richard might think they had total control over me, but I was still a person, with my own will and determination. No matter how much they tried to subjugate me, I would find a way to regain my power.

And so, with a heavy heart but a determined mind, I made a promise to myself: I wouldn’t let these people’s poison destroy me. If they wanted a fight, it was a fight they would get. And I was more than ready to face them.

In the following days, I began to observe Marta and Richard more closely. I realized that, despite all the power they wielded, there were small cracks in their armor. Marta, despite her cold and calculating appearance, seemed obsessed with control, and this obsession made her predictable. Richard, on the other hand, was so focused on keeping everything under control that he didn’t realize that by pressuring me, he was forcing me to seek a way to resist.

I decided that my first step would be to better understand the documents I had signed. I knew that, somehow, those signatures had tied my fate even more to theirs, but I needed to know exactly how. With the help of a copy I managed to find in the mansion’s files, I spent sleepless nights trying to decipher the legal terms.

What I discovered was disturbing. Marta had inserted clauses that severely limited my freedom and controlled even the most personal aspects of my life. It was as if, with each signature, I had relinquished another part of my autonomy until very little of myself remained.

But at the same time, I saw that the documents left some loopholes, small gaps that Marta and Richard had overlooked. These loopholes could be my chance to regain control, to find a way out, however small.

The game had begun, and I was determined to play it to the end. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, that I would face immense challenges, but each small victory, each step toward freedom, would be a reminder that even in the worst situations, there was still hope.

Meanwhile, I continued to play my role, meeting expectations, but never forgetting my silent promise. The battle had just begun, and I was ready to face it, one step at a time.