"He marked me and left me stranded in this place. I resisted the urge to cry for a while before finally succumbing. The pain in my body after being marked was far worse than I had expected. I wiped tears from my face so frequently that they soaked into my sleeve. Clearly, he didn't give me anything, not even my phone. "Look at what you've done, Atticus!" I muttered, my words echoing the misery of my current situation. I wasn't sure why he despised me so much, but because of him, I had to endure all this pain alone. If Atticus hadn't abducted me and subjected me to humiliation, I'd be at home right now. Besides the forced marking, I also had to contend with the justified hatred of his wife. I wasn't sure how I would survive this. "How can I possibly fix this?" I asked myself, wondering if anything I said would make a difference. How did I never know he was faking all his kindness and sweetness? was I that desperate to believe in someone but that overlooked some red flags? "Will he keep his other promises? Will he allow me to continue my education and reunite with my sister?" These questions tormented me, but Mr. Holt never returned to provide answers. I sat against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably, hugging my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Time seemed to slip away from me, but just as I was about to doze off, I heard my door creak open, and someone entered. I instinctively shielded my eyes from the sudden brightness as she flicked on the lights. Maleeka stood before me, her expression lifeless. "Take this; Zeon wanted me to give you this," she tossed a dress onto the bed for me, avoiding eye contact. She must have been devastated, and I hated being the cause of it. "I promise I didn't know," I added as she turned to leave. "You did. You knew everything. From his marriage to every detail of our relationship. You knew exactly what you were doing when you were hanging around him," she didn't even turn around to look at my face, displaying her intense anger towards me. What surprised me was her implication that I had lured her mate and stolen him from her. Without waiting for another word from me, she left the room and locked it from the outside, following Mr. Holt's orders. I rose from the bed and glanced at the blue dress she had left on it. I cleared some space by tossing it to the floor and sat back down. Exhaustion had taken its toll, and all the weeping had only worsened my headache. Fortunately, he didn't return to my room that evening, just as I had hoped. I managed to get some rest, or at least as much as one could on an empty stomach. When I finally started to stir and wake up, I noticed something on the floor just outside my door. A letter had slipped under it while I slept. "Get ready and join us for breakfast. You wouldn't want to dampen my mood, your husband's, or your mate's," the message read. My hands were tied because my sister was still living with my greedy father. So, for now, I had to comply with Mr. Holt's demands, even though I longed to defy him with a defiant gesture.After taking a shower and changing into the blue dress I had been instructed to wear, I began pounding on the door. As I knocked, I noticed that the door was only partially closed. I was concerned about getting lost in such a large house if I ventured out on my own. When I entered the foyer, a maid's eyes met mine. "Follow me," she said, walking ahead of me with a firm stride and a taut ponytail that swayed as she moved. I decided to accompany her to the garden where they were having breakfast and enjoying the lovely weather. The moment Mr. Holt's gaze landed on me, he straightened his posture and a smile played on his lips. "Thank you, Charlotte," Mr. Holt flashed her a smile for guiding me here. She appeared young, likely in her early twenties. Her hazel eyes and long red hair suited her perfectly, and I had a feeling Mr. Holt might have taken a second look at her as she walked away from us. "Here!" Mr. Holt sprang to his feet and pulled out a chair for me, urging me to sit beside him. Maleeka sat nearby, her head lowered, dressed in a white gown adorned with pearl jewelry. "So! How about something to eat?" Mr. Holt gestured toward the array of dishes in front of me. It was clear he wanted to impress upon me his wealth and abundance of food, fully aware of my family's circumstances and our struggles to access nutritious meals. "I'm not hungry," I lied, although my stomach felt like the rats were gnawing on my organs. Maleeka noticed my repeated head shakes as Mr. Holt persistently offered me every dish on the table, hoping to coax me into eating something. "Quit acting like a child. He's your husband, not your father. He has other responsibilities besides indulging your every whim," Maleeka expressed her irritation at Mr. Holt's overly attentive behavior by speaking harshly to me. She assumed that my father used to pamper me, spending hours asking about my meal preferences for lunch and dinner, which made me scoff inwardly. Mr. Holt, seemingly unconcerned that I was too young to have any ulterior motives, defended me by saying, "It's alright. She's too young to grasp such things right now. She'll learn in time." I was taken aback that he acknowledged my youth, yet he continued to manipulate me. Then, Mr. Holt asked, "By the way, where would you like to go for the honeymoon?" It was as if he hadn't just marked me so forcefully, now acting as if we were a happy couple discussing our honeymoon plans. I was stunned by his talk of a honeymoon when we hadn't even addressed the issues between us.