Victor became restless after Mia moved her belongings back to her room. Each time he remembered what she had done, he wasn't angry—he was obsessed. It dawned on him that this was the first time a woman had undone his command without fear. At that realization, Victor's control began to feel unstable.
He called one of the maids and instructed her to journal Mia's movements—what she ate, where she went, what she did. Nothing was to be left out. He also ordered Scott to follow her closely. In his mind, he called it protection, but Mia knew better. She knew he was trying to get her attention and regain the power he felt slipping away.
Aware of the new rules, Mia said nothing. She didn't react to the sudden changes. The more silent she became, the more unsettled Victor grew. He wanted a reaction, any reaction. But Mia knew when to speak—and when to fight quietly for her right.
One evening, Victor's friends came over for dinner and to watch football. They had no idea he was married, let alone to someone as beautiful as Mia. As they settled into the living room, Mia had no idea there were visitors. In fact, she didn't even know Victor had friends. Given how mean and controlling he was, she doubted he did.
She was coming from the swimming pool, wrapped in a short bathrobe. Whenever Mia felt weighed down, she went there to unwind. As she passed slowly through the living room doorway, all eyes turned to her. She swung her hair back absentmindedly and adjusted it. The attention followed her instantly.
Realizing she had drawn too much attention, Mia hurried upstairs.
Victor noticed his friends staring and quickly redirected their attention back to the game.
One of his friends asked, "Who was that?"
Victor denied it immediately. "She's my maid."
His friends laughed in surprise. "Your maid? I thought your maids wore uniforms. How can a maid look that sexy and beautiful?"
Victor said nothing, but jealousy burned fiercely inside him. Anger followed. He regretted inviting them over at all.
When his friends finally left, Victor stormed into Mia's room without knocking. He grabbed her wrist tightly.
"You are mine," he said angrily. "No man will ever share you with me. You are my property. You can never be beautiful in another man's eyes—only in mine. Why would you walk through that door half-naked? Don't you know you belong to me?"
He raved, his face close to hers.
Mia winced in pain as he tightened his grip. She forcefully pushed him aside, rubbing her wrist where it hurt.
"You dare not tell me what to wear," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "I am your property, yes, I know—but not your maid. Should I have worn a ball gown? I had no idea your friends were here."
Tears slipped down her face, though her tone remained calm.
Victor noticed the tears. He realized he had hurt her. Without saying a word, he turned and slammed the door behind him.
In his room, regret crept in. Victor replayed the moment over and over. Money doesn't work on her. Gifts don't work. She's bold. She cannot be controlled, what can I do to keep her under my control?
The next day, he introduced new rules. He ordered that his wife, Mia, would start cooking for him from now on. Mia didn't argue about the rule itself, but she objected to how it was announced in front of the maids.
Later, she told Victor quietly, "If you want to make new rules, discuss them with me first before announcing them."
Once again, Victor was unsettled by Mia's strength.