Finding Freedom In A Small Town

en I fell ill, I had to beg my husband, A

ng me for mismanaging

ting his ex-girlfriend a five-million-dollar necklace. The messag

dence, calling me an "ornament." I was a possession he'd

any fever. He controlled my life,

earn it myself. I pushed open the heavy door to The Velvet Lounge, a high-end cl

pte

my finger than usual, a constant reminder of the gilded cage I lived in. It flashed under the harsh fluore

m?" Adam' s assistant, Mar

, hard truth. My monthly allowance, a measly $500, had evaporated two weeks ago when I' d fal

," I managed, my voice barely a whisp

arched. "Mrs. Mercado, Mr. Merca

I insisted, clutching m

d to convey his annoyance. "Wait here." He vanished b

see right through my facade, peering into the pathetic reality of my existence. Final

ng every bit the tech mogul he was. He didn't look up immediately. His eyes were fixed on the

ng, just an acknowledgment that I existed in his

hands clammy. "I... I

teel. "Your allowance was deposited on the fi

xpensive, and it took most of it. I need some for... necessities."

Necessities? You have everything you could ever want. You do

pursuing my passion for art restoration, from even volunteering at a local shelter, claiming it would "tarnish the Mercado name." Every at

elling a restored antique online. The punishment for that transgression still made me tremble. He' d cut o

what that would do to my reputation? To our reputation?" He stood up, his height suddenly towering, menacin

Mark, escorts Mrs. Mercado home. She needs to rest." His ton

or. Humiliation burned through me, hotter than any fever. I walked out

to fall. I pulled my thin jacket tighter around me, wishing for the warmth of a taxi, a hot cu

ttan" group chat. I dreaded those messages, but curiosity, a m

ot away." They were on a yacht, laughing, champagne flutes raised. The caption underneath: "Adam Mercado spares

ve me $50 for tampons, had just dro

Always second best." Another, "She knew what she wa

rded. I remembered my father' s beaming face on my wedding day, the hefty dowry Adam had paid, disguised as

e to the bone. I walked blindly, the city lights blurring into streaks of color. M

of Adam kissing Elenore. His words echoed in my head: "Mone

ched, standing in front of a neon sign that flickered through the downpour: "The Velvet Lounge." The "spec

s. I would find my freedom.

n the heavy,