CHAPTER 2: CHAPTER 2: YES, I’M A MASOCHIST

Eugene Vaughn pushed her against the wall with such force that her back ached.

He was tall, his strong physique to Victoria Sinclair was like an insurmountable mountain.

Her wrists were pinned above her head against the wall by one of Eugene’s hands, unable to move.

Eugene leaned down, looked her in the eyes coldly, and used his other hand to grasp her jaw, tilting her face upwards.

Victoria’s heart raced, her breath filled with a faint smell of alcohol from the man’s body, her cheeks hurting from the grip, as she stared at him in fear and anxiety.

This was the first time in two years she was so close to Eugene, seeing so clearly his thick brows, deep phoenix eyes, high nose bridge, and pale thin lips.

His exquisite features were very handsome, and the faint tear mole at the corner of his eye was particularly alluring.

But the dangerous and powerful aura around him made her unable to breathe.

He had never touched her before, not even the slightest physical contact.

Victoria swallowed nervously, her voice trembling slightly, "Are you drunk?"

Eugene was icy cold, his voice squeezed from his chest like gravel, "Victoria Sinclair, do you know you are truly disgusting?"

Victoria felt a sharp pain in her heart, her eyes moistening.

Of course, she knew.

If he didn’t dislike her, why would he be unwilling to touch her after two years of marriage?

Victoria held back the tears in her eyes, striving to keep her voice calm, "Eugene, if you want to continue, then continue. If you don’t, then let’s divorce. You don’t need to force yourself."

Eugene laughed coldly, his fingers tightening slightly, making her jaw ache, "Force myself? You’re gorgeous, nice to look at at home. You don’t waste my money and you do housework, saving me a lot on nanny fees."

His words were like sharp blades, stabbing into her heart, leaving her almost breathless with pain.

"Why, exactly?" Victoria’s hands shook in anger, powerless to break free from his grip, her voice choked slightly, yet stubbornly refusing to allow tears to overflow.

They met through a matchmaking.

Her parents had been pushing for marriage since she was twenty, just to take her dowry back to their hometown to build a house.

Their incessant calls urging her to marry tortured her for four years, until she couldn’t withstand the pressure any longer and agreed to meet someone at twenty-four.

Eugene was introduced to her by her college professor.

He was a year older than her, a distinguished scion, heir to the Vaughn Group, tall and strong, handsome and elegant, the perfect wealthy and handsome man.

Initially, Eugene treated her with utmost kindness, gentle and considerate, deeply passionate.

She wanted to avoid any mother-in-law conflict and hoped to live separately after marriage.

Eugene bought a 200-square-meter apartment near her workplace’s research institute.

She didn’t like being in crowded places, especially with strangers in her home.

Eugene dismissed the maid and part-time workers and shared housework with her.

She had her own career and dreams and didn’t want to become a housewife after marriage.

Eugene respected her immensely, never asking her to resign.

She had never been in a relationship, was traditional and conservative.

Eugene’s feelings were restrained yet courteous, gentlemanly and polite.

Though she wasn’t skilled in expressing love, she truly fell for this exceedingly wonderful man, inescapably.

In just a few months of dating, she eagerly accepted Eugene’s romantic proposal.

After marriage, everything changed.

She didn’t know why, Eugene seemed to have become someone else, extremely distant and indifferent towards her.

During two years of marriage, they were more like familiar yet estranged roommates rather than spouses.

This kind of relationship made Victoria very unhappy, unsure of how much longer she could endure.

She could only convince herself to not fuss, to look at marriage and love lightly, and just get by.

Spilt water cannot be retrieved, nor can true affection.

Falling for the wrong person is torturous, she lacked the strength to love someone else anymore.

Eugene’s gaze was as deep as a stagnant pool, staring fixedly at her face reddened by anger, his voice hoarse, "Victoria Sinclair, no reason, just purely annoyed by your indifferent attitude, always with a cold face, like bland water, boring and tasteless."

Victoria’s vision blurred with tears, the deepest part of her heart throbbing in pain, unable to withstand his verbal attacks anymore.

For the first time in two years, she lashed out at him.

"Then why did you marry me?" Her voice raised a few levels, suppressed anger and grievance erupted, "Are you a masochist?"

Eugene’s lips curled into a cold smile, his gaze still fixed on her face, silent for a few seconds before releasing her and taking a step back, suddenly whispering, "Yes, a masochist."

Victoria didn’t expect such a reaction from him, rubbed her aching wrist, suppressed her tears, and turned to enter the room.

Closing the door, her body felt limp and weak, leaning against the door, tears quietly welled up, large, cool drops sliding down her cheeks, dripping onto her chin.

Victoria lay awake all night, only dozing off in exhaustion as dawn approached.

She slept for only four hours, waking at nine in the morning.

She got up, washed, and dressed.

Placed the dirty clothes in the washing machine to wash and dry.

She also casually pressed the auto button on the floor sweeper, and the flat round robot started cleaning the floor.

Sunlight streamed through the glass windows of the balcony into the spacious living room, warm yet unable to penetrate her cold heart.

She routinely made two breakfasts, today it was tomato and egg noodles.

She calmly sat at the dining table, chewing mechanically.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

She set down her chopsticks and went to open the door.

Seeing the woman standing outside, Victoria’s eyes dimmed slightly, her already depressed mood sinking further.

"Good morning, sister-in-law." Vivian Miller smiled warmly, extending a large brown paper bag, "The air conditioning at the club was too cold last night, Eugene gave me his jacket to wear, and I happened to pass by here, so I came to return it."

Victoria didn’t take it, "No need to return it, he’s a neat freak, he won’t use something once others have touched it."

Vivian chuckled awkwardly and, uninvited, directly walked past Victoria into the house, her black high heels clicking crisply on the clean floor, loudly declaring her presence.

"Sister-in-law, Eugene’s only a neat freak about you, right? We grew up together, wore the same clothes, ate from the same bowl, drank from the same cup of coffee, I never knew he had a cleanliness fetish."

Only for her? Clean freak?

Victoria stood motionless, her body rigid, feeling as if a string in her heart suddenly snapped quietly, making her chest swell with pain.

Two winters ago, she was reading in the living room, and because it was too cold, she casually picked up Eugene’s windbreaker draped over the sofa to put on.

When she returned it to him, he said, "I’m a neat freak, throw it away."

She thought Eugene didn’t like others using his things.

Turns out, he was simply repulsed by her.

How ridiculous!

Victoria couldn’t laugh, she shut the door, her heart heavy, her stomach spasming, losing her appetite for breakfast.

She picked up her bowl and chopsticks from the dining table, went into the kitchen, and emptied them.

Vivian wandered around the house, eventually coming to lean at the kitchen door, "Sister-in-law, where’s Eugene’s room?"

Victoria washed the dishes, "Leave the clothes on the sofa, he drank too much last night and won’t be up early."

Vivian laughed lightly, her tone carrying a hint of sarcasm, "I slept in the same bed with Eugene lots of times before, we’re close like brothers, zero barriers."

Victoria paused her dishwashing, gripping the sponge tightly, her knuckles faintly exerting force.

Vivian’s voice rang again, openly arrogant, "Sister-in-law, I just toured your house, peeked into your room, turns out you and Eugene sleep separately, huh?"

Victoria threw the sponge into the sink with a sharp clatter of the dishes.

She washed her hands, turned off the tap, and coldly walked past Vivian, grabbed her bag from the sofa, slipped into her casual canvas shoes, and left the house without saying a word.

Seeing Victoria storm out angrily, Vivian’s smile grew even more triumphant, arms crossed, wandering around the living room, gazing here and there, touching this and that.

Finally, she twisted open Eugene’s room door and walked inside.