Page 23 of Made for Sinners

“The wife shall not be obligated to engage in any activities that compromise her safety or well-being, except in cases where such activities are deemed necessary for the preservation of the family’s interests.”

I tapped the pen against my chin, my stomach twisting.Preservation of the family’s interests.That could mean anything. That could meaneverything.

I wrote:Does this include attending your family’s Christmas dinners? Because those seem like a health hazard.

The joke felt forced. My chest ached.

By the time I reached page twenty, my amusement had dulled into something heavier. I wasn’t just picking apart Dante’s contract—I was picking apart the reality of my future.And no matter how many sarcastic notes I scribbled in the margins, the truth remained the same.

This wasn’t a game.

This was my life.

I flipped to page twenty-one, my fingers tightening around the pen when I spotted the header:

Conduct and Expectations of the Wife.

My throat closed.

“The wife shall maintain discretion and decorum as befitting her role, refraining from actions that could bring disrepute to the family name.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real humor in it. Discretion and decorum? This man clearly hadn’t met me.

I grabbed the red pen again and scribbled in the margin:Define “decorum.” Not giving up unlimited mimosa brunches.

But even as I wrote the words, my chest felt hollow.

I wasn’t the same person I used to be.

The woman who would have laughed and toasted to her own rebellion over bottomless mimosas—she wasn’t here anymore.

Dante had taken her.

And I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get her back.

I clenched my jaw and kept reading.

“The wife shall prioritize the needs of her husband and family, ensuring that all duties are fulfilled to the best of her ability.”

I snorted, shaking my head.Duties.Like I was some obedient little wife from a century ago.

I wrote in big, looping letters beside it:Does this include fluffing your pillows? Because I’m gonna need hazard pay for that.

But the words felt bitter.

The contract went on and on, each clause another chain tightening around me.

By the time I reached the final clause, my hands were shaking.

“Clause 9.1: The wife acknowledges that this agreement is binding and irrevocable, subject only to termination by the husband or upon the death of either party.”

I stared at the words for a long moment, my vision blurring.

Binding and irrevocable.

Like a sentence.

Like a cage.

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