Chapter 1

• Claudia
• I didn’t have the wedding of my dreams, nor even a decent courtship. There’s no ring on my finger, and the memory of my wedding day is blank in my mind. No matter how hard I try, I can’t form the image of the exact moment when I signed the document.
• I’ve been married for two long years, and all I’m allowed to do is watch the days go by from the window of my room. The nights feel endless. I’m alone here, in this fortress. I’m twenty-two years old. I was sold when I turned twenty, and my name is Claudia O’Brian, or at least it was.
• I was sold by my parents to a man I still don’t know, not that I have any desire to. My heart despises him for accepting such a vile act. I remember being in my parents’ garden, reading as usual, and out of nowhere, my mother arrived with a refreshing drink for me. Something very uncommon, and although I should have suspected, the truth is that seeing a kind act from her is something I had always longed for. However, then I just woke up in this room, not knowing where I am or how I got here.
• That same day, an older lady who makes you want to hug her and call her grandma explained to me why I was in this place. My heart ached to hear her words, but I knew it was true. For a long time, my family had been bankrupt, and I was chosen to solve their problems. It was easy for them to get rid of me, especially when the profit was surely substantial.
• My parents never loved me because they blame me for the death of my younger sister. But I was just a child taking care of another even smaller child. The only thing really important to them since then has been money and the social class they occupy. With a lump in my throat, I realize how far they are willing to go to continue maintaining their lifestyle.
• Now I am Mrs. Mobasseri, and I wish to die. But not even that is allowed to me. I have tried it several times and ended up handcuffed to the bed. Only with the promise of not trying again was I able to get them to release me. I hate my husband with all my strength, a despicable being that I hate with all my strength.
• I am sitting on the bench under my window, looking out at the garden, longing to go outside and soak up some sun. My skin is too pale, and the doors to the balcony are locked. I woke up a couple of hours ago, tired of pretending to sleep with my eyes closed. The monotony of the past two years has become suffocating; even sleep feels like a suffocating need.
• Mrs. Clara should be coming in soon. She takes care of me and makes sure I have everything I need. She also brings me all kinds of magazines and newspapers to keep me informed about the outside world. Despite reading news involving my beloved and idiotic husband, I haven’t been able to see a decent photograph of him. Mrs. Clara is like a sweet little bun, kind and affectionate, like the grandmother I never had. Sometimes she brushes my hair until I fall asleep, a very good therapy to help me rest.
• Thanks to the magazines and newspapers, I am aware of my devoted husband’s mistresses who have no qualms about admitting their possible romances. They all look so elegant and self-assured while I am just a prisoner wishing to die to end my suffering. I find my position absurd and ridiculous, a wife who has no freedom to even go out to the garden while he is rolling around in bed with those women. The sound of the door interrupts my thoughts, but I continue to gaze out at the garden. I am fed up with this damn situation.
• “Good morning, Mrs. Mobasseri,” she greets warmly as she does every day. It’s routine; I hate being called Mrs. Mobasseri.
• “Good morning, Mrs. Clara. When will Mr. Mobasseri be back?” I ask, following the pattern we have established since I arrived at this mansion.
• “You’ll be pleased to know that Mr. Mobasseri authorized you to leave your room today.” That damn Nazi; he thinks he owns me because he bought me. Well, looking at it that way, I am his property.
• “Really? And did he say when he would die?” I ask with obvious annoyance. Getting out of this room is not the only thing I want. “He finally remembered the merchandise he has locked up in these four walls.” Mrs. Clara shakes her head disapprovingly, but keeps her comment to herself.
• As usual, she orders breakfast to be served in the room and stays with me until I finish. She picks out the clothes I am to wear, which she then puts away at the end of each day. After the first month of confinement, I stopped dressing up and opted to wear pajamas only.
• “At night, you will have to wear this dress, and I will come to help you get ready,” I observe the beautiful red dress she places in front of me. It is tight, fitting, with many stones outlining the waist and extending into a small train at the back of the dress.
• The dress Is simply beautiful. I have never worn anything like it in my life, not even when I lived with my parents. However, a doubt settles in my mind: why so much elegance? As far as I know, my husband is not royalty, although the fortune he possesses could be said to come from ten generations of Mobasseri lords, who have perpetuated their lineage, or so they say.
• “Why exactly am I allowed to go out today?” I question, stopping Mrs. Clara from her tasks.
• “Mr. Mobasseri is arriving today from his trip to celebrate his wedding anniversary with his wife.” I feel the tightness in my chest as I remember the day I woke up disoriented in this same room; today marks exactly two years since then, and my buyer intends to celebrate it.
• “I am legally his wife, but that does not mean I have to celebrate it,” I indicate. “You can keep all those things because I do not intend to use them.” I say, making a gesture with my hands. “I will not be part of his circus.”
• As if he really cared that I am his wife, that has not stopped him from parading around with all those women while I watch my life pass by within these four walls, sold by my family and bought by a stranger who has never shown any interest in me. I feel so much hatred for everyone. They have stolen my life.
• “I recommend that you attend the dinner. It is an elegant event, and many important people will be present,” she says calmly.
• On the other hand, it is the opportunity I have to see more than just the same room every day, and perhaps I will find a way to escape while everyone celebrates our wedding anniversary.
• “Alright, I will attend,” I confirm. “Will my family be present?” Even though they are the ones to blame for my situation, I do not hate them; I just would like to see them to ask them why? Mrs. Clara shakes her head. “I thought that being legally Mr. Mobasseri’s wife, my family could be invited to events in this prison,” I comment disdainfully.
• “Mr. Mobasseri does not want them to know that you are the daughter of the O’Brians because that could harm my lord’s reputation.” Of course, I suppose it must be very embarrassing to admit that you bought your wife in a bazaar.
• “Mrs. Clara, what is he like?” The question comes out of my mouth before I realize it, but the truth is I know nothing about him, and tonight I will meet him; I will pretend to be a happy wife. “Could you tell me about Mr. Mobasseri?” I ask, feeling ashamed of being curious about my tormentor.
• “That is something we have already discussed. Mr. Mobasseri is a special man, very powerful and can seem cold and cruel. However, he is a very kind and honest person,” the same speech as always. Every time I ask about him, her answer Is the same, an unchanging speech that makes me think there is something more she does not want to tell me.
• “He is not a bad person? Is that what he says?” I question ironically. “He has me locked in this room like a prisoner. An honest person does not manipulate the fate of others at will or keep anyone against their will in a place where they cannot even take their own life because they are not allowed.” I unload all the frustration that makes me feel like I am nothing to everyone, a person who does not deserve anyone’s love.
• I turn my back and approach the window again to feel the warm sun. I feel lonely, abandoned in a world where others decide my fate. I know that Mrs. Clara is not to blame for anything, but I feel so overwhelmed.
• “It is true that I did not want to accept being his wife, and I tried to escape a couple of times, but it is inhumane to have someone against their will.” In all this time, no one has come to claim my freedom, not even my parents. I know they don’t care, but I am their daughter. “Do you think if I behave as expected tonight, Mr. Mobasseri will let me out of the room?” She murmurs a yes so lacking in strength that it makes me doubt. However, the worst battle is the one that is not fought. “Well, I will show him that he has a beautiful and adorable wife. All I want is for him to let me out of this room. I feel like I am dying of sadness every passing day.” I hug myself while still looking through the window at the colors of nature.
• My world has become a very dark gray.
• “If there are no more questions, I will leave, ma’am,” she says with a hint of pity.
• “I will need someone to do my hair and makeup,” I murmur before she leaves completely. If tonight I am to be the lady of the house, it is necessary that I fulfill my role perfectly.
• When the door closes completely, I turn on my heels and approach the dress. When she showed it to me, it looked really beautiful.
• And it is; Mrs. Clara has good taste, exquisite to say the least. It is too flashy and sensual. I suppose that as the wife of the president and owner of the Mobasseri firm, I must look like a lady of high society, but I still lack the shoes, and I don’t have matching accessories. I have never had things like that in my life. My mother always told me that I was too ordinary to wear something so elegant.
• Now I will not only dress like a lady, but I will be the center of attention of the night. I suppose nobody knows about me, absolutely nobody, knows that Mr. Mobasseri has a wife. The damn man keeps me locked in this dead “end cave.”
• I hate my husband.
• I wonder if I will ever be truly happy. I have never been, and by the way things are going, not only will I never be happy, but I will also never have my freedom, the freedom that I love so much. I miss my best friend, Isabel. She knows everything about me. There were no secrets between us, and whenever I needed her, she was there to comfort me and give me encouragement to continue.
• The day seems to be in a hurry to give way to the night. I didn’t even realize at what point so much time had passed, or maybe it’s the anxiety that makes me see the day flying by before my eyes. Now I am in the bathtub, submerged in hot water to relax the muscles of my body. I feel stiff from sitting or lying down so much. Mrs. Clara should not take long to come up with the help I asked for my hair and makeup. However, I am not in a hurry to leave my moment of relaxation. Mr. Mobasseri can wait as I have done all this time locked in this damn mansion while I wither away in silence.