Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Also, my father couldn’t stand the thought of me being known by many people. I was homeschooled and took online courses.
I had my own small house, within his grounds, but he never had to see me. I lived my own life, and he made sure I had an allowance. With no other bills to pay, I saved a lot of money from that allowance, although I could have quite easily spent it all on fabric or makeup. I didn’t. I always tried to live within my means.
He refused to allow me to get a job. Again, it was all about his personal image to the outside world. It would look bad if I attempted to go to work. He couldn’t stand it, so I didn’t.
All I did was try to be a better person. I gave money to charities I loved. I volunteered at an animal shelter, and a homeless one as well. At least, I had until my dad found out and pretty much trapped me in my own home. There had been guards stationed outside my home to stop me from leaving. That was the first time I felt like a prisoner.
There were guards outside of Victor’s home as well. He was part of the Volkov Bratva. I do not have the first clue how my father got meddled up in Bratva, but from my short research, it wasn’t good. I had no idea how my father had been able to maintain a loving personality for the world to see, while living a lie behind closed doors.
But then, I’ve come to see that everyone seems to do that. I’m the same person outside that I am on the inside.
It had been fun spending time with Rafael. I’m used to people not liking me. I’ve been told that people put up with me because of my last name. Other than that, I’m not likable or attractive. When I was younger, my half-brothers told me I was ugly, fat, and horrible, and no one would ever want to be my friend. You grow a thick skin. Add to the fact that social situations make me nervous, and I don’t like crowds, which meant I was used to being alone.
I found a sense of peace in the quiet. Also, being told I was hated meant that I worried about imposing on other people’s time. So, I always told Rafael that if I irritated or annoyed him, or he didn’t want my company, he just had to say so, and I wouldn’t take offense.
Now, did I say it wouldn’t hurt? No, I didn’t, and it hurt a lot. But I couldn’t blame someone for not liking me, could I? Some people were just not meant to be adored.
I guess that was why my husband did the deed on our wedding night, and then left. I figured he just couldn’t stand me. He had to do what he did. I was a job, a chore, which is another reason I attempted to stay out of his way.
We hadn’t shared a dinner, and other than in passing, I always made sure to hide when he was around. Clearly, he hated me.
I hoped we didn’t ever have to have sex again. Not that I’d been overly curious about sex. After the way my father and brothers behaved around women, I wasn’t interested in sex or men. I just wanted to be left alone. After my wedding night, I was more than happy to be left alone. Sex was awful.
Stepping into the house, I made my way to my sewing room, and when I got there, I saw that the door was partially open, which was strange, as I knew I had closed it. This was Victor’s house, not my house. He could come and go wherever he wanted. I didn’t have a say in that.
Stepping inside, I dreaded what I would find. One day, my father was so angry with me as I refused, once again, to go in for plastic surgery to change everything that was wrong with me. He trashed my entire sewing space. I came home to find my sewing machine smashed to pieces. Precious fabric I had purchased had been torn. He’d even taken some out to the yard and burned it. The whole room had been a mess. He’d not stopped there and had destroyed all my makeup as well.
This had been a couple of years ago. In my makeup, using my red lipstick I loved, he had written the words, UGLY FAT BITCH, on my wall. That was my dad, never holding back. I cleaned up the mess that night, then cried and sobbed for hours. The tears wouldn’t stop. I think it was then I realized I would never be good enough for him. Not unless I drastically changed who I was.