Chapitre 3: Chapter 3
GISELLE
I swatted at the tears on my cheeks, sucking in a breath to rein back my emotions. He wasn't worth my tears. They would not get me anywhere. He'd said so himself.
They only drove him to cause me more pain.
I set to work on breakfast, doing things to the best of my ability, not because I wanted to please him, but because I found the task interesting. I just didn't want to give in to his demands.
Cooking wasn't my strongest suit, and until recently, I didn't put any effort into it. That didn't mean I couldn't whip up some pancakes, or at least, I hoped I could.
I'd watched my friend do the task diligently on some mornings while I watched her. With that memory stuck in the forefront of my mind, I put breakfast together.
I stood back with a proud smile, admiring my work. They turned out better than I'd expected. If only I had my phone to take a picture of it, I would've sent it to Raquel.
As I took a seat to devour my food, Nicholas walked into the kitchen. He'd changed out of his sweats and into a suit that molded over his body perfectly. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the front page of some magazine.
"Did Sara help you with this?" He asked, inspecting the pile of golden pancakes.
"Why would Sara help me? That wasn't included in your instructions, was it? Heaven forbid we go against your orders," I snarled.
He cocked his head to the side. "You keep testing the waters, Giselle."
I resisted the urge to correct him. I didn't go by Giselle anymore. Over the years, I'd shortened it to Elle, and that was what friends and family called me now. It was unusual to hear him call me by my full name.
"Keep pushing me, and see if I won't bury you before the month runs out," he threatened.
Death would be better than living in this nightmare, but I refrained from telling him. Knowing him, he'd withhold himself anytime he was close to killing just so he could continue tormenting me.
Sara strolled into the kitchen at that moment, a worried expression on her face.
"A lady is here to see, Giselle. She claims to be her aunt. Her name is Adrienne."
Aunt Adrienne. I'd not seen her at the wedding, and she was the one I missed the most of all my family members. The last time I heard from her, she was visiting her husband's grave in Sicily.
"Tell her to get the fuck out," Nicholas simply said, stacking a plate of pancakes for himself.
"No!" I shouted. "Please," I added when he cocked a brow at me. "Let me just see her for a bit."
"No. Sara, have the guards turn her away. My bride isn't receiving guests."
"Please, Nicholas. Please, just let me see her."
He snorted, grabbing my chin in his hand. "I already said no. You're not seeing her. End of discussion."
Sara looked at me with sympathy in her eyes before turning on her heels and heading out of the kitchen to deliver her boss's message.
The food turned stale in my mouth. I pushed my plate away, my already bad day worsening.
"What the fuck was that?" Nicholas barked. "We do not waste food in this house. If you don't eat that right now, you're not eating lunch."
I shrugged, sliding off the stool. "Fine."
I was more than done with his controlling attitude. I couldn't stay in the kitchen any longer, or I feared I'd break down in front of him, and that was the last fucking thing I wanted.
***
NICHOLAS
The brat spent the rest of the day in her bedroom, refusing to come out, not even when Sara went to her door with a tray of food.
I had no intention of letting her eat the food since she'd so blatantly walked away from me even after warning her about wasting food, but I wanted to see if she'd come out.
For the next three days, she didn't come out, and Sara was worried that she'd somehow hurt herself all along, and we'd thought it was her avoiding us.
On the fourth day, I was more than fucking over it. I'd had enough of her tantrums. I banged on her door before the crack of dawn, hearing ruffling inside the room.
At least she was still alive.
"Giselle, open this door. We need to talk," I barked.
She remained quiet, refusing to answer my call. I was contemplating breaking the door down until I remembered I had a spare key somewhere in my nightstand drawers. I had originally meant her room to be my office, but the space was too big for an office, so I switched to the lower floor.
I ransacked my drawers, relieved when I found the key. I slipped it into the keyhole, turning the doorknob in my hand.
Giselle jerked on hearing me enter her room, but she remained buried underneath the comforter.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I growled, yanking the comforter off her body. "What fucking point are you trying to prove? You think starving yourself to death is going to take you away from this nightmare? Think again, darling."
She curled onto her side, ignoring me. When I took a closer look at her, I found out she was crying.
Cazzo. I was dealing with a child.
Instead of the satisfaction I'd expected, I was displeased. Why was she crying when she had no reason to?
'Oh, but she has every reason to. She's married to you,' a voice inside my head mocked.
"Giselle, you either tell me what's going on or you..."
"What do you want?" She asked, pushing the hair out of her face.
"Why have you been crying?"
She chuckled. "Wouldn't you like that? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Wanted?"
She chuckled humorlessly. "Right. You still want it."
"Are you going to tell me what has you acting like a brat?"
"Or what?" She challenged. Even though she had no food in her, the brat still had the strength to argue.
"Or you can spend a few more days here without food or water."
I was hoping that would scare her into getting out of bed, but she only laughed.
"If this is the way I die, then so be it. It will save me a lifetime of torture."
She turned to the other side, showing her back to me, showing me just how stubborn she was.
"I'll deal with your stupidity when I get back."
Right now, I had some business to take care of.
***
GISELLE
My resolve was weakening.
Spending four days crying with no food in my stomach probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I wasn't doing it to be 'stubborn' like Sara had said when she banged on the door a few hours after Nicholas's visit.
I was doing it because I hoped it'd be some sort of escape for me. I wasn't lying to Nicholas when I said I wanted to die. Not only did he marry me against my will, but he also controlled who I could and couldn't see, and that had been a breaking point for me.
I could deal with him being an asshole and cheating on me, but not the controlling part. It was one thing I dreaded the most after watching my father control my mother for years.
I'd heard stories from my aunt, Adrienne, and there was once a time when Mom wasn't this controlling ass she turned out to be. According to Adrienne, Mom was the sweetest woman. Until she met my dad. Things went downhill from there. I didn't want to end up like her.
I climbed out of bed with shaky legs, crawling to the bathroom for my hourly drink of water. I didn't know how much water could do until now. It was the only thing keeping me going now.
I gulped down the water from the sink, throwing some on my face before sinking to the floor again. My bladder was full, but in my current state, it made it seem like the toilet was a continent away.
I sighed, pushing my hair out of my face, and gathering up the strength to crawl over to the toilet.
"Giselle," I heard Sara's motherly voice call out, holding worry.
"In here."
"Heavens! What is wrong with you, Giselle?"
My head snapped up on hearing the familiar voice.
"Aunt Adrienne."
I broke down in tears, unable to hold it in anymore. There was something about her that made me eager to pour my heart out to her.
"Oh, dear."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone