Madam of His Making

Everyone knows me as a gentle and calm wife. On our wedding night, my husband, Julian Chapman, sleeps with another woman. I tell myself that it's part of being married and that I should be understanding. He blows through the 30,000 dollars I brought into the marriage. I kept my silence. Then, he brings home one mistress after another. I pour them drinks myself. When his gambling debts finally catch up with him, he sells me to a brothel without a second thought. "This is my wife. She's quiet, obedient, and easy to deal with. Take her instead. Do whatever you want with her." I laugh. He has no idea that I had a reputation before I ever married him. They called me the Queen of Hell. I had been training courtesans since I was five. Does he think he can sell me? Fine. I'll take his smug pride and grind it into the dirt. I'll strip away every bit of dignity he's so proud of. From now on, I'm the one calling the shots, and he's the star attraction. Since he spent my money on mistresses, I'll put him on stage and make him earn his keep. That seems fair to me. Chapter 1 I picked up the coffee I had made for Julian Chapman and threw it in his face. "Selling your wife to pay your debts is illegal! Are you trying to go to prison?" Julian wiped the coffee from his face and stared at me in disbelief. He couldn't understand how the wife he'd spent years mistreating without consequence could suddenly turn on him. For three years, I washed his clothes, stayed up late mending them, cooked his meals, and pinched every penny to help fund his studies. I never said a word when his mistresses picked fights with me. In fact, I'd even given him money to support them and their children. Even when he secretly took up gambling out of frustration after repeatedly failing his exams and blowing through most of my money, I still put up with it. "You've lost your mind! I'm your husband! A wife is supposed to obey her husband! The authorities have no say in this. Besides, I'm doing this for your own good," he roared. "Once you're at the brothel, you'll have nice clothes and jewelry. You won't have to worry about putting food on the table anymore. What's so bad about that? Just fight back if you don't want to serve them. No one will force you. Women only end up there because they let themselves be pushed around." I was livid. I'd spent three years thinking that if you treated someone well, they'd eventually return the favor. Surely, even the coldest heart would thaw after that much time. Men who prided themselves on being educated were the best at putting on airs, the coldest regarding other people's feelings, and the quickest to forget who had stood by them. I slapped him across the face several times. Julian covered his bleeding mouth and stumbled backward. Fear flashed across his face. He immediately ducked behind the two debt collectors. "Quick! Get this crazy woman out of here!" The debt collectors laughed. One of them kicked him aside. "You're a piece of work. Get out of here. I can't stand men who try to pay their debts by selling their wives." "Exactly. Men who call themselves educated are vile." Julian scrambled to his feet. Instead of getting angry, he looked at me with righteous conviction. "What do you guys know? This is what a wife is supposed to do! She pays her husband's debts, and he'll make sure her name is remembered after she's gone," he ranted. "Once I finally pass my exams, I'll make sure she gets a beautiful headstone." I used to think that being a good wife was my responsibility. Well, not anymore. Now, I fully intended to set men like Julian straight. I'd spent more than a decade learning from Avaline Murray, a brothel owner. All those years of experience weren't for nothing. Before I could say a word, one of the debt collectors spat on the floor. "You're just a broke scholar who fails his exams year after year. What gives you the nerve to talk about making the list? Just pay back what you owe!" Julian flushed and lifted his chin. "I'm not a broke scholar! I'm just unlucky!" He was right about one thing. He wasn't some broke scholar; he was a premium piece of eye candy worth a fortune. The debt collector waved him off impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your wife only covers 120,000 dollars of what you owe. You still have another 100,000 dollars left to pay. Pay up!" "I still have seven mistresses. Will that cover it?" The mistresses overheard everything and rushed into the room. They beat Julian up until he was howling in pain. "That's enough!" Charlotte Sanders pouted. "You're not seriously going to let this trash off, are you? If it weren't for you, I would've left him years ago. Chapter 2 "Yeah. The others pooled their money and left. Now it's just Charlotte and me. Why don't you divorce him and come with us?" one of the mistresses asked. I shook my head and refused. Instead, I handed them their indenture papers and told them to leave while they still could. Julian's eyes went red with fury. He raised his hand to slap me. "You bitch! Who gave you the right to let them go?" I kicked him straight between the legs. "Don't forget that I was the one who paid to free them. Whether they came here because they needed money for their families or because they had nowhere else to go, I paid for it. Since when did they become yours? They're mine." "Get her out of here! Make sure they teach her a lesson! Better yet, send her somewhere she'll really suffer," Julian screamed as he reeled in pain. One of the debt collectors walked over to me. I smiled. "Are you really asking for 120,000 dollars for me? You're getting ripped off, honey." "What's wrong? Having second thoughts?" Julian said, smirking. "Beg me now, and maybe someday, after I pass my exams and make something of myself, I'll come see you." "Just look at me. I'm nobody special. You'll get 100,000 dollars for me at most. But he's different." I pointed at him. "He's handsome, educated, and he still has a spotless reputation. Put him on stage, and the wealthy women will fight over him. One night could bring in more than his entire debt. If you want to get your money back, sell the one who's worth the most." "You want him to be the star? Are you out of your mind? Do you really think a nerd is going to make money doing that?" the debt collector scoffed. Julian's face turned red. He glared at me, scrambled to his feet, and swung at me again. "You're disgusting, Wynter! I'm a respectable man. You can't humiliate me like this!" I stepped aside. He stumbled forward and crashed straight into the corner of a table, cracking his forehead on it. Blood trickled down his face. "God, you're pathetic. You're the one who tried to sell me to a brothel. I'm only returning the favor." I turned back to the debt collectors. "Tell me, what kind of respectable man can't pay his debts or support his own household, then sells his wife to survive? I'll take responsibility for the debt. Give me three days, and I'll pay you back every cent. In return, Julian is mine." The debt collectors' eyes lit up. They immediately started drawing up the contract. Julian fought back desperately. "I'm not signing that! You can't force someone into a contract. Wynter doesn't have that kind of money. She'll be the one going to the brothel in three days!" I looked at his furious face and smiled. It was the first genuine smile I'd given in three years. "Don't worry, I won't end up in a brothel—you will. You'll be the one getting paid to entertain women and work off my debt." We signed the contract, sealing the deal. Julian glared at me with pure hatred. "Listen to your wife, Mr. Chapman. I'll see you on the stage in three days." The debt collector's last remark sent him over the edge. He started smashing whatever he could get his hands on. "I'm warning you, Wynter. If you don't have the money in three days, you'll be the one going to that brothel!" I barely glanced at him. "Relax. Three days is plenty of time. I'll teach you how to earn your keep. That pretty face of yours is the only thing you've got going for you, after all." "If that's all I've got, then why did a respectable woman from a good family marry me?" he said bitterly. I was from a good family. That much was true. But I had also once been a lost child who ended up in a brothel. Avaline Murray took me in and raised me. She taught me how to read people, get inside their heads, and understand exactly what made them tick. She also taught me how to handle men and run the business. I was supposed to take over the brothel when I turned 18. I would've had the money, the connections, and the freedom to live however I pleased. However, when I was 15, my biological parents found me. They were high-ranking officials from a respectable family. They couldn't accept that their long-lost daughter had been raised in a brothel. They erased my past as quickly as they could. They buried everything I learned there and made sure no one would ever know what I was taught. They forced me to dress modestly, follow their rules, and behave like an obedient girl. Wanting to give me a respectable life, they arranged for me to marry poor but educated men from the countryside. I chose Julian. I did it partly because marrying him would help bury my past, and partly because I liked the way he looked. I didn't want to argue with Julian, so I simply told him that he would be doing the housework from now on. Julian's eyes widened. "You're insane! A man is supposed to provide for his family! I'm not doing a woman's work!" "Why not? Where was your pride when you were drowning in debt?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where was your dignity when you tried to sell your wife to pay it off?" Julian's face turned bright red. He couldn't get a word out for a while. When he finally did, he spat, "I'm not doing it." "Then go hungry. I'm not supporting someone who refuses to work. If you're so proud of your principles, you can starve with them." We had a long standoff. Eventually, hunger and the cold wore him down, and he finally picked up the broom. He sent dust flying as he swept, chopped wood until his hands were raw, burned his hand while boiling water, and scorched the bottom of the pan when he tried to cook. By noon, the once-pristine young man was filthy and completely disheveled. Chapter 3 Julian still had the habit of blaming everything but himself. He blamed the tools for being useless, just as he blamed me for repeatedly failing his tests. He never once admitted to his lack of ability. Whenever I complained that something in the house wasn't working, he accused me of wasting money and simply said that I didn't know how to use it. Yet he had no problem blowing that money at the gambling tables or spending it on his mistresses. The only reason I put up with him for so long was that I had been betting on him passing his exams. I imagined myself becoming the wife of a successful man, eventually enjoying a comfortable life as a widow. Looking back, putting my hopes on someone else was a colossal mistake. By evening, he'd finally finished all the chores. I nodded. "Starting tonight, you're going to work on your posture, the way you look at people, and the way you move." I reached up and gently straightened his shoulders. "Keep your shoulders level and your back straight. Lower your eyes slightly. You should look gentle and reserved, like a refined young man who's fallen on hard times—" "You're shameless! I'm a respectable man! You can't expect me to act like some kind of flirt!" he roared, cutting me off. I scoffed. "How exactly are you planning to pay the debt in three days, then? With your pride? Or with that mouth of yours that was only ever good for gambling?" Julian's face turned an ugly shade of red. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he lunged at me. "How do you know so much about this? Have you been seeing someone behind my back? Don't think I'll ever divorce you so you can run off with some other man!" I ignored his outburst and simply reminded him that he still had a debt to pay. He was going to learn it whether he liked it or not. That night, I was sleeping soundly when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my neck. A wave of suffocation washed over me. I struck the attacker, knocking him to the floor. I reached under my pillow for the knife and raised it to strike. Then I heard a familiar scream. I looked down and realized it was Julian. I kicked him away. "Think carefully. If you kill me, who's going to pay off your debt?" Julian clutched the wrist I had stepped on. His face turned pale as he scrambled to his feet and hurried out. Just before closing the door, he looked back at me. He looked like a predator waiting for the right time to strike. The next morning, the room looked as if it had been ransacked. I looked at Julian, whose eyes kept darting around the room. He must have been looking for the contract that bound him to me. Too bad he'd never figure out where I'd hidden it. For once, Julian didn't need me to tell him what to do. He got up and started cleaning the house on his own. Over the next three days, I ground down every bit of pride he'd spent half his life clinging to. The young man who had once never lifted a finger around the house before was now doing every chore himself. He'd even learned how to carry himself like a man who knew exactly how to draw a woman's attention. At first, he fought me every step of the way. But I cut off his food and threatened him whenever he resisted. He'd gone hungry and cold, but in the end, he gave in. I took a pale blue coat from the back of the wardrobe, made him put it on, then took him into town. I didn't take him to a brothel. Avaline had taught me that if I wanted to sell something for a high price, I had to create demand. If I left people wanting more, they'd come to me. I took Julian to the busiest stretch of river where wealthy women gathered. Boats filled with fashionable guests drifted by, and merchants came to relax. I stationed him beside a stone bridge. All he had to do was play the part of a disappointed young scholar and gaze out over the river. Julian's face twisted with anger. "No, that's humiliating! Why don't you do it? Sleep with a wealthy merchant and get the money that way. You're my wife! If one night isn't enough, do ten! If that still doesn't work, just marry the crippled old man who lives east of town and become his second wife. If he hits you, I'll report him. "Better yet, go home and threaten to kill yourself. Your dad will give you the money." If I hadn't been worried about ruining his carefully crafted image, I would've slapped him. "You better not make a scene. If we can't pay this debt, you might end up dead before I do." He froze. He begrudgingly took his place on the bridge. It didn't take long for people to start pointing at him. Some were impressed. Others felt sorry for him. Many were curious. As I told his tragic story, more and more people came to see him. Soon, women secretly sent over gifts—money, purses, handkerchiefs—and invited Julian aboard for a private drink, offering to help him out. He was embarrassed, but the money was too tempting to refuse. I glanced at the debt collectors standing behind me and handed them the money. "See? My husband's worth a lot more than I am." Had three days not been too short for a trip to the Reverbia, I would've taken Julian to the most notorious pleasure house there so that he could see what selling himself really meant. It wasn't long before someone from one of the riverboats came to invite me aboard. The moment the curtain was pulled aside, I nearly laughed. Julian's clothes were hanging open. A clear handprint marked his cheek, and several faint red marks showed on his neck, as though someone had grabbed him. The person sitting on the other side of the couch wasn't a woman at all. It was a man well past 50. My amusement vanished the moment I felt a knife pressed against my throat. "I happen to be the daughter of a senior government official. You'd better think carefully about what would happen if you hurt me." Chapter 4 The man raised the tip of the knife toward me. "I didn't believe it at first. Could a woman really be this vicious? But I saw everything from the window just now. You took the money, counted it, and handed it straight to the debt collectors without batting an eye. What do you think he is?" Julian was still in the man's arms, but he didn't resist. "She treats me like livestock. I'm merchandise she can sell to pay off her debts. I used to be a scholar. I even passed my exams. But she starved me, locked me in the house, and hit my fingers with the back of a knife whenever I refused to cooperate." He held up his right hand, the one I injured when he tried to kill me. "She wanted me to marry her. But when I did, it wasn't enough. She forced me to sign away my freedom and call her my master. If I got it wrong, she'd withhold my food," he sobbed. "Even when I finally said it the way she wanted, she still complained that I wasn't loud enough. "She took a pair of scissors and cut open my collar, saying that I needed to look better, or no one would pay for me." The man narrowed his eyes at me. "Is everything your husband just told me true?" My back was pressed against the wooden wall. My palms were slick with sweat. Part of what Julian said was true. I really did lock him in the house. I withheld his food. I really had struck his fingers with the back of a knife. What he conveniently left out was the reason I locked him up, how he got into debt, and why I'd forced him to earn his way out of it. He laid out everything I'd done by picking the ugliest details and making them sound even worse. However, he stripped away every bit of context and never mentioned what had led to any of it. The man stepped closer, pressing the knife against my collarbone. "I'll repeat myself one more time. Give me the papers." Julian rose from the couch and gently placed a hand on the man's wrist. "Let me do it. She locked me up for three days. I hate her. I'll never be able to live with myself if I don't do it," he whispered. The man looked at him and then released the knife. Julian took it and turned toward me. He pressed the tip against my throat and lowered his voice. "You brought this on yourself. If you'd just done as you were told, none of this would've happened. Don't worry. I won't kill you right away. I want you to know what it feels like to be humiliated." I took a deep breath. "Sir, you're a fool if you believed a compulsive gambler like him. There are plenty of ways to train a pet. You just chose the dumbest one." "What are you talking about?" Julian screamed. He raised the knife and lunged at me. I was about to move when the man's assistant stepped in. The knife hit the floor with a sharp clang. I touched the cut on my neck and smiled. Then, I told the man everything that Julian had done. I told him he was welcome to investigate if he didn't believe me. Before the man could send anyone after the evidence, Julian panicked and snatched the knife off the floor. "She's lying!" I smiled and kicked him to the floor. I pulled open one side of my collar and exposed an old scar across my shoulder. "He did this to me last winter after losing money gambling. He heated a pair of fire tongs and pressed them against my skin because I refused to go back to my parents' house and steal money from my dad for him." "And these?" I said, pushing up my sleeve to reveal a row of old bite marks along my forearm. "He was drunk two years ago. He thought I took too long bringing him his coffee, so he bit my arm and called me useless. These marks took two months to fade. "He tried to sell me to a brothel three times. The first time was two years ago. He pawned one of my pieces of jewelry, then went straight to a brothel and negotiated a price for me. One of my housekeepers found out and came to warn me." I clenched my fists. "The second time was last fall. While I was visiting a sick relative at my parents' house, he brought people from the brothel to our home. I ran into them just as I was leaving. "And the third time—" "She's lying! Don't listen to her! I'm a respectable man. Why would I ever do something like that?" "What exactly did you study?" the man cut in. "Did one of those books teach you how to gamble and sell off your wife?" Julian completely lost his composure. He rushed forward and tried to explain himself, but the man kicked him aside. "Leave. I'm not buying your indenture papers, and I'm not taking you in. Keep whatever mess the two of you have made of your marriage off my boat." Once we were off the boat, Julian started demanding a divorce. I laughed. I wasn't going to let him walk away, let alone divorce me. As far as I was concerned, letting him go now would be doing him a favor. He needed to be held accountable. Killing him would be the real revenge, but unfortunately, the law wouldn't allow it. The world had always been kinder to men. If I let him divorce me now, he'd still walk away as the respectable scholar everyone thought he was. He could rewrite the whole story and present himself as the devoted husband who had nobly refused to hold his wife back. No one would make him answer for the money he squandered. No one would condemn him for treating me like dirt for three years. His attempts to sell me to a brothel and ruin my reputation would disappear without a trace. Meanwhile, I'd be the one everyone gossiped about. I would be the jealous wife who drove her husband away. That wasn't the ending I wanted. I wasn't opposed to staying married to him for the rest of our lives, either. We would eventually get divorced. Just not yet. "You can't divorce me." "Why not?" "Because I won't sign the divorce papers. You can't end the marriage unilaterally."