Days turned into weeks, and the routine became unbearable. John continued to play the role of dutiful worker by day and loving husband by night. Each morning, he dragged himself to work, where Oliver's cruel game of humiliation never ceased. The tasks became more degrading , now he wasn't just cleaning floors, he was subjected to fetching coffee for the entire office, scrubbing toilets in front of laughing coworkers, and even polishing Oliver's shoes while the man sat back and smiled smugly.
One afternoon, as John scrubbed the floor of Oliver's personal office, the door opened, and Oliver strode in, his shoes clicking sharply on the polished floor. He glanced down at John, the man who was once proud, reduced now to this , a mere servant in his own nightmare.
"Ah, John," Oliver said with mock enthusiasm, sitting down at his desk. "How's my favorite employee doing today?"
John gritted his teeth but kept his eyes down on the floor. "Fine," he muttered, continuing to scrub the floor.
Oliver smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Good. I like to see you working hard. After all, it's not every day you get a man who was once married into the Lance family scrubbing my floors."
The jab hit John hard, but he remained silent. He had long since learned that arguing with Oliver only made things worse.
"Anyway," Oliver continued, spinning lazily in his chair, "I thought I'd drop by to remind you of our little agreement."
John paused, his hands still gripping the brush. He didn't dare look up.
"You haven't forgotten, have you?" Oliver's voice turned colder, more serious. "You and your lovely wife belong to me. You work for me. You do as I say. And as long as you remember that, everything stays fine. But if you step out of line…" He let the threat hang in the air, the unspoken consequences clear as day.
John clenched his jaw. "I know my place," he said quietly, though the words felt like poison on his tongue.
Oliver smiled again, satisfied. "Good. I'd hate for anything unfortunate to happen to you or Sarah."
---
Back Home
That evening, John returned home, the weight of the day's humiliation heavier than usual. Sarah was waiting for him at the kitchen table, her face lighting up when she saw him walk through the door.
"Hey, how was work?" she asked, her voice warm and full of genuine curiosity.
John forced the smile, the one he'd practiced so well by now. "It was good. Same old stuff. You know, the usual," he said, his voice steady. He sat down beside her, kissing her on the cheek as he always did.
Sarah smiled, leaning into him. "I'm glad you're doing well there. It's nice to see you coming home with a smile."
John's heart twisted painfully in his chest. He couldn't keep this up much longer. The lies were starting to pile up, and each one felt heavier than the last. But how could he tell her the truth? How could he shatter the fragile hope she clung to?
He looked at her, his heart aching. "Sarah, I," he began, but the words caught in his throat.
Just then, there was a loud knock on the door.
John's heart jumped in his chest. He exchanged a glance with Sarah, and for a brief moment, panic flashed in her eyes. "Who could that be?" she asked, standing up from the table.
John stood, his pulse quickening. He moved toward the door, dreading what might be waiting on the other side. His mind raced , was it Oliver? Had something happened? Was this another one of his games?
He opened the door slowly, his heart pounding in his ears.
There, standing in the doorway, was Taylor.
His smirk was cold, his eyes filled with malicious amusement. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his presence darkening the threshold like a storm cloud.
"Taylor," John breathed, his stomach churning.
Taylor didn't bother with pleasantries. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his eyes scanning the small, modest home. He whistled, clearly unimpressed. "Nice place, West," he said with a sneer. "Never thought I'd see you living like this."
John's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't respond. His mind was spinning. Why was Taylor here? What did he want?
Sarah stood frozen by the kitchen table, her eyes wide with shock. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Taylor turned to her, his smile widening. "Sarah. Long time, no see." He paused, then looked back at John, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "I have some news for you both."
John swallowed hard, dreading whatever was about to come out of Taylor's mouth.
"Oliver sent me," Taylor said, taking a step closer to John. "Seems he's got a new… task for you."
John's heart sank. "What does he want now?"
Taylor's grin turned sinister. "Oh, it's nothing much. Just a little errand. A favor, really." He paused, letting the tension build. "You'll be leaving town for a few days. Some business Oliver needs handled. And don't worry , I'll be here to look after Sarah while you're gone."
John's blood ran cold. He stared at Taylor, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "You can't be serious."
Taylor's smile faded, his eyes narrowing. "You don't get to question this, West. Oliver gave you a job. You belong to him. And when he says jump, you ask how high."
John's hands trembled, fury and fear surging through him. He looked over at Sarah, her face pale with confusion and worry. He couldn't leave her , not with Taylor, not like this.
"I'm not leaving her," John said, his voice low but firm.
Taylor raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "That's cute, John. But you don't really have a choice, do you?"
Before John could respond, Taylor stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "If you don't do as Oliver says, things will get… difficult for Sarah. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"
John's stomach twisted in knots. He was trapped, cornered, and out of options. He knew what Oliver and Taylor were capable of, and the thought of leaving Sarah alone with them terrified him. But if he refused, the consequences would be far worse.
"I'll go," John whispered, his voice barely audible.
Taylor patted him on the shoulder, a victorious glint in his eyes. "Smart man."
As Taylor turned to leave, his smile widening, John's heart sank even further, the weight of his decision crushing him.
"Pack your bags, West," Taylor called over his shoulder. "You leave tomorrow."
John watched as Taylor disappeared through the door, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick to breathe. He stood there, frozen, as the reality of the situation settled in. He was being forced to leave, and Sarah would be left behind , with Taylor.
He turned to look at her, his chest tight with fear. "Sarah…"
But before he could say anything else, Sarah collapsed into a chair, her eyes wide with shock. "John… what are we going to do?"
John didn't have an answer. All he knew was that they had just made a deal with the devil.