No Freedom Behind Rules

Before the wedding, Sebastian sent an Excel sheet with three hundred and sixty-five rows of Wife Code of Conduct. Rule 12 banned male likes on Instagram. Rule 87 limited weight fluctuation to two pounds. Rule 203 required chore photos by 10:00 PM daily. I thought it was his quirky way of building a life.

After marriage, he turned it into an app scoring me daily. Below ninety meant his calm remark, "I am not punishing you, I am helping you improve." Seven months pregnant, I scored eighty-seven for a three-minute delay to a prenatal appointment that "disrupted the family's time management schedule." He canceled my clinic ride. I took a cab, hemorrhaged en route, and heard a nurse scream, "We lost her blood pressure!"

When I woke, his email glowed with the same spreadsheet and a voice memo: "Babe, here's our marriage blueprint. Take a look." I replied, "I read it," and blocked him permanently.

"Jennifer, I will only tolerate this childish ghosting game once."

A faint shadow fell over my head.

I didn't bother looking up, keeping my eyes fixed on my computer monitor.

A freshly printed piece of standard printer paper was slapped hard next to my keyboard, completely covering the marketing proposal I was editing.

"This is your preliminary performance review for the month. Your current score is negative five."

Sebastian pulled out the chair opposite my desk and sat down, crossing his legs in a posture of complete leisure.

"Because you refused to reply to my voice memo last night and unilaterally cut off our communication channels, you violated Rule 42: Never let a conflict last overnight."

His voice was completely flat. He sounded like a heartless judge reading a verdict.

A few colleagues in the open office space were already sneaking glances our way.

I slid the printed paper right back to him.

"Mr. Wright, we are on the clock. Please remove your personal garbage from my desk."

Sebastian frowned, clearly displeased with my strictly professional attitude.

"Jennifer, do not bring your emotional baggage into the corporate environment."

He tapped his knuckles against the desk.

"I spent an entire week tailoring those three hundred and sixty-five rules specifically for you."

"I am doing this to help you strip away your laziness. I am molding you into a woman worthy of being the lady of the Wright household."

I stared at his arrogant, self-righteous face, feeling my stomach violently churn.

The perfect lady of the house.

In my past life, I actually swallowed that toxic gaslighting.

To reach that perfect score of one hundred, I wound myself up like a tight clock every single day.

Once, I was running a hundred-and-two-degree fever and passed out on the living room sofa. I missed the 10:00 PM "chore completion photo check-in."

Sebastian remotely changed the passcode to our smart lock while I was asleep. I woke up confused and locked out.

I froze in the winter hallway for half the night.

When he finally opened the door the next morning, he just handed me a template for an apology letter.

He told me, "If you cannot manage basic time management, you do not deserve to walk through this door. Go write a three-thousand-word reflection essay. Make sure your handwriting is perfectly neat."

That bone-piercing cold was something I remembered vividly right up to the moment I died.

"I do not need to be tailored by you." I hit the save shortcut and closed my proposal.

"What kind of attitude is that?"

Sebastian's face finally darkened.

"You threw a tantrum and blocked me last night, and I let it slide. I took the initiative to come see you today. How long are you going to keep throwing this fit?"

"I am not throwing a fit. I do not accept your spreadsheet, and I do not accept you."

My phone began to vibrate on the desk.

The caller ID flashed "Mrs. Wright."

Sebastian caught a glimpse of the screen and a cold, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Answer it. Let us hear what my mother has to say."

I swiped to answer. I didn't put it on speaker, but Mrs. Wright's shrill voice was piercing enough to bleed through the earpiece.

"Jennifer, you think you are so tough now, do you? You actually dared to block my son?"

"Mrs. Wright, we are no longer a good fit."

"What do you mean, no longer a good fit? A girl from an ordinary background like yours should be thanking her lucky stars that the Wright family even looked in your direction."

The voice on the other end grew even more venomous.

"Sebastian is setting rules for you to train you properly. Look at yourself. You are a total workaholic who does not even know how to cook a decent meal. How are you supposed to serve my son in the future?"

"Why on earth would I serve your son?"

"Because that three-million-dollar penthouse you two are moving into was secured by Sebastian's down payment!"

Mrs. Wright let out a sharp sneer.

"If you still want to marry into this family, you will come over to my house tonight and recite all three hundred of those rules to my face. If you get a single word wrong, you will not be getting any dinner."

I hung up the phone right in her face.

Sebastian looked at me, his eyes brimming with a sickening, high-and-mighty sense of pity.

"You heard her. My mother is highly dissatisfied with your current state."

"That sounds like a personal problem for her."

"Jennifer." He lowered his voice, lacing it with an obvious warning. "Do not mistake my indulgence for a free pass to act however you want."

Indulgence?

Treating a human being like a show dog to be graded and trained. He actually called that indulgence.

"Sebastian, you can keep that spreadsheet and memorize it yourself."

I stood up, grabbing my mug to head to the breakroom.

He reached out and grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip.

"If you insist on using these pathetic tactics to get my attention, I will strip you of the Southside Resort project."

I stopped in my tracks.

The Southside project was my absolute baby. I had pulled endless all-nighters for three months and done countless site visits to secure that core campaign.

"You have no right to do that. I am the lead director on that project."

"I am your direct supervisor." He released my wrist and casually adjusted his cuffs. "Since you cannot even learn the basic duties of a wife, you certainly lack the energy to manage a project of this magnitude."

He stood up, towering over me.

"I am giving you one day to reflect on your behavior. Email an apology letter to my inbox, and I might consider giving the project back to you."

...

The next morning, the moment I scanned my badge and walked into the department conference room, I noticed my seat was taken.

A girl with a short bob haircut, wearing a casual designer hoodie, was spinning in my chair.

Daisy.

Sebastian's childhood best friend. She had been parachuted into our department three days ago as an "intern."

She was the classic "guy's girl" he was always raving about.

"Morning, future wifey."

Daisy spun a pen between her fingers, smiling at me with sickening sweetness.

"Seb said you've been a little emotionally unstable lately, and that you haven't even memorized your pregnancy prep spreadsheet yet. So, I'll be taking the Southside project off your plate."

She heavily emphasized the words "future wifey" with a condescending lilt.

The other colleagues in the room immediately buried their heads in their documents. Nobody dared to make a sound.

I walked straight up to her and pointed at the chair.

"That is my seat. Get up."

Daisy pouted, staying perfectly glued to the spot. Instead, she looked past me toward Sebastian, who had just walked into the room.

"Seb, look at her. Her temper is still so explosive. I'm just trying to be a good friend and lighten her workload, but she is completely ungrateful."

Sebastian walked to the head of the table and sat down, knocking his knuckles against the wood.

"Jennifer, stop being unreasonable in the office. Daisy taking over the project was my executive decision."

"I poured my blood and sweat into this. Why are you handing it over to an intern who cannot even read basic architectural blueprints?"

I glared at Sebastian, forcing down the fiery rage burning in my chest.

"Because your priorities should not be focused on meaningless corporate climbing."

Sebastian clicked a button, and the projector flared to life. My personal performance review spreadsheet was plastered across the massive screen.

The score was highlighted in bright, glaring red.

"Excel Rule 45: A wife's energy must not be scattered on meaningless socializing or excessive career ambitions. Her core focus must be building the family."

He was actually displaying this psychotic document in front of the entire department.

"Look at your performance over the past few days. Consecutive overtime, highly irregular meals. With your current physical state, how are you supposed to breed a healthy next generation for the Wright family?"

The conference room was so dead silent you could hear a pin drop.

Daisy let out a loud, mocking giggle.

"Seb, your standards for her are way too high. But honestly, Jennifer, Seb is just looking out for you. Don't bite the hand that feeds you."

I stared at the utterly absurd clauses glowing on the projector screen.

In my past life, this exact scenario played out in this exact room.

Back then, terrified of starting a public fight with him, I swallowed my humiliation and handed the project over.

And the result?

Daisy used my flawless proposal to skyrocket up the corporate ladder, earning rapid promotions and massive bonuses.

Meanwhile, I spent my pregnancy with zero personal income and zero social life, completely crushed under Sebastian's control.

"Sebastian, if your brain is rotting, I suggest you seek medical help."

I looked at him with ice in my veins.

"Give me back what is mine, or I have absolutely no problem escalating this directly to the CEO's office."

Sebastian's eyes instantly turned frigid.

"Escalate to the CEO?" He looked at me like I had just told a hilarious joke.

"Why don't you open your employee portal right now and see if you even have the security clearance to email the executive floor?"

I instantly pulled out my phone and logged into the company intranet.

My account status read: Suspended.

"You privately revoked my access?"

"It is called workplace correction."

Sebastian leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers together.

"You disobeyed a direct order from a superior and displayed a hostile attitude. As your director, I have the full authority to place you on administrative leave for reflection."

Daisy chimed in, eagerly adding fuel to the fire.

"Come on, Jennifer, just swallow your pride and apologize. Seb stayed up until midnight yesterday just to draft that new spreadsheet for you. If you keep acting like a psycho, nobody is going to put up with you."

I looked at the two of them. They were truly a match made in hell, and I found the entire situation incredibly laughable.

"Since I am suspended, that means I do not need to be at work, correct?"

Sebastian assumed I was finally backing down. His expression softened slightly.

"I added a new rule, Rule 366: Talking back to your husband results in a one-month project suspension. You can go home and reflect now."

"Remember to clock in your daily chore progress photos on time. If your score drops below a ninety, the wedding will be postponed."

I nodded slowly, turning on my heel and walking straight toward the conference room doors.

"There is no need to postpone it."

I stopped at the threshold and looked back over my shoulder.

"The wedding is completely canceled. You can give your spreadsheet to someone desperate enough to memorize it."

Sebastian's brow instantly furrowed, but before he could speak, the sound of measured footsteps echoed down the hallway.

We both froze and turned toward the sound.

A man in a sleek, tailored black trench coat was walking slowly toward us, flanked by two towering bodyguards in dark suits.

The man was tall and striking, his features sharp and strikingly cold. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes radiated an aura of absolute, unapproachable frost.

Gabriel Sinclair.

The youngest, most legendary cardiothoracic surgeon at Trinity Medical Center.

And also the doctor who, in my past life, fought like hell to save me on the operating table. The man who gripped my blood-soaked hand with red, devastated eyes when my heart finally stopped.

Sebastian obviously had no idea who Gabriel was. He eyed the newcomer with extreme impatience.

"Who the hell are you? This is a private corporate floor. Get out."

Gabriel completely ignored Sebastian. He walked straight past him and stopped right in front of me.

His gaze swept over my face. There was a deep, restrained emotion in his eyes that I could not quite read.

"Ms. Jennifer, we meet again."

He finally turned to face Sebastian. His voice was perfectly level, yet laced with a chilling cruelty that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"I am Dr. Gabriel Sinclair from Trinity Medical Center. I am the attending physician for Ms. Jennifer's mother."

Sebastian was taken aback for a second, but then he let out a harsh sneer.

"Just a damn doctor, and you think you can stick your nose in my business? Do you want me to make one phone call and get your license revoked?"

Gabriel's lips curved upward into an incredibly icy smile.

"Her mother's medical expenses will be entirely billed to the Sinclair family account."

He raised a single finger. One of the bodyguards immediately stepped forward, handing him a sleek, matte-black business card.

Gabriel casually tossed the card directly at Sebastian's chest. It fluttered off his suit jacket and landed softly on the floor.

"As for you."

Gabriel didn't even bother looking at the dropped card.

"Stay the hell out of my hospital. And while you are at it, tell your executives that all funding from the Sinclair Consortium is officially terminated as of today."

...

After leaving the corporate building, I drove straight back to my apartment.

This was the "three-million-dollar penthouse" Sebastian was always bragging about.

Yes, he had paid the initial down payment. But the subsequent seven hundred thousand dollars spent on custom renovations, fully integrated smart appliances, and the imported Italian leather sofas were paid entirely out of my own pocket, draining five years of my hard-earned savings.

In my past life, after I died, Daisy had lounged on that exact Italian sofa while flirting with Sebastian.

When I reached the front door, I habitually punched in my passcode.

"Beep. Incorrect passcode."

The robotic female voice echoed in the quiet hallway.

I paused, assuming I had mistyped, and re-entered my birthday.

Incorrect again.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Sebastian.

"I changed the lock passcode. It is now Daisy's birthday."

"This is a minor punishment for publicly disrespecting me in the conference room today. Rule 88 states: A wife must memorize the important personal details of her husband's close friends and family."

"Stand out in the hallway for thirty minutes and think long and hard about what you did wrong. Once you figure it out, you can ask me for the passcode."

I read the text on the screen and actually let out a genuine laugh.

Without a single second of hesitation, I googled a local locksmith and dialed the number.

The technician arrived incredibly fast. Twenty minutes later, the screeching sound of a heavy-duty power drill echoed through the corridor.

Just as the lock cylinder was about to give way, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Sebastian and Daisy walked out, shoulder to shoulder.

Seeing the locksmith actively drilling into the door, Sebastian's face turned a violent shade of purple.

"Jennifer, have you completely lost your mind!"

He sprinted forward and violently shoved the locksmith out of the way.

"What the hell are you doing? Who gave you permission to break into my house?"

"Your house?" I glared at him with pure ice. "Every single piece of furniture and appliance inside these walls was bought with my money. What gave you the right to lock me out?"

Daisy immediately shrank behind Sebastian's back, clutching her pearl necklace like a frightened little bird.

"Jennifer, please don't be so aggressive. Seb was just playing a harmless little joke on you. He just wanted to test your memory."

"Who the hell are you that I need to memorize your birthday?"

I fired back without a shred of mercy.

Daisy's eyes instantly welled with dramatic tears as she gripped Sebastian's sleeve.

"Seb, look at how she is treating me."

Sebastian shielded Daisy with his body, looking down his nose at me with utter disgust.

"Jennifer, look at the way you are behaving. You look like a hysterical street vendor!"

"Daisy was kind enough to take over your heavy workload, and not only are you ungrateful, you are verbally abusing her. And now you are hiring thugs to drill out my locks?"

The elevator dinged a second time. Mrs. Wright stormed out in her designer heels, radiating toxic energy.

She was clutching a thick stack of legal documents in her hand.

"Sebastian, I told you this woman was an ungrateful gold-digger, but you insisted on protecting her!"

Mrs. Wright marched right up to me and shoved the documents directly into my face.

"Look at this. It is a prenuptial agreement."

"Our family paid the down payment for this property. You do not own a single square inch of it. Even if you paid for the renovations, consider that your entry fee for marrying my son."

"Sign the papers. From now on, this house belongs solely to Sebastian. Do not even dream of getting your name on the deed."

I stared at the thick stack of notarized papers. The memories of my past life wrapped around my throat like a venomous snake.

It had been pouring rain that day. I came home ten minutes late because the line at the grocery store was long.

Sebastian and his mother locked the door on me.

Through the wood, Mrs. Wright had sneered, "Rules are rules. If you have no concept of time, you can stand in the rain until your head clears."

I stood in the freezing downpour for two hours until a pool of blood washed down my legs.

My first child died right there on the welcome mat.

And when Sebastian finally opened the door, he just frowned at the mess and said, "You stained the porch. That is a twenty-point deduction."

I took a deep, shaky breath, dragging my consciousness back to the present.

"Sir," I said, looking at the locksmith. "Keep drilling. I will pay you double."

The technician hesitated for a split second, but money speaks loudly. He raised his drill again.

"You ungrateful little brat!"

Mrs. Wright raised her hand, aiming a vicious slap right at my cheek.

I caught her wrist in mid-air and violently shoved her arm away.

"Keep the damn house. You can pay the mortgage yourselves. As for everything inside, I am hiring a demolition crew to smash it all to pieces by tonight."

I turned my gaze to Sebastian.

"The wedding is off."

Hearing my words, Sebastian did not look angry. Instead, he laughed.

He adjusted his silk tie, looking at me like I was a toddler throwing a tantrum in a toy aisle.

"Jennifer, do you really think you can just throw around words like 'canceling the wedding' and I will actually take you seriously?"

He took a menacing step forward, trying to suffocate me with his presence.

"Did you conveniently forget that your mother is currently lying in a VIP suite at Trinity Medical Center?"

My heart dropped like a stone.

"What are you implying?"

Sebastian let out a cruel, triumphant sneer.

"That VIP suite costs fifteen hundred dollars a day. Not to mention the imported targeted therapy drugs she is pumped full of every morning."

"Every single one of those medical channels was secured through my personal connections."

He reached out and flicked an imaginary speck of dust off my collar.

"If you actually try to break off this engagement right now, I guarantee you, by tomorrow morning, your mother will be tossed out of that hospital for unpaid bills."

"And it will not stop there. Not a single private clinic in this entire city will dare to take her in."

Mrs. Wright cackled with wicked delight.

"Exactly. Without the Wright family, your mother will not even have a clean bed to die in. And you dare to act tough in front of us?"

Daisy eagerly stepped forward, hooking her arm through Sebastian's in a sickeningly sweet display.

"Jennifer, just stop being so stubborn. Seb is only doing this for your mother's sake. Just apologize to him, sign the prenup, and we can all go back to being one big happy family."

I clenched my fists so tightly my manicured nails dug bloody half-moons into my palms.

The suffocating helplessness of my past life flooded my veins.

This was exactly how he operated. He always found the perfect leverage to force my head down, forcing me to compromise until I became that soulless puppet governed by his spreadsheet.

"What is wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

Sebastian stared down at me like a god observing an insect, holding out the prenup once more.

"Kneel."

He spat the word out with terrifying calmness.

"Sign the agreement, and then apologize to Daisy for scaring her with this locksmith stunt. Do that, and I will make sure your mother's medication continues."

He was absolutely intoxicated by this power trip.

He thrived on the high of pushing me to the absolute brink, watching me swallow my pride to survive.

The air in the hallway felt completely depleted. Every breath I took felt like crushed glass in my lungs.

Just as the suffocating stalemate reached its breaking point, a voice echoed from the corner of the corridor. It was cold, deep, and dripping with an unquestionable, terrifying authority.

"I hear someone is trying to cut off my patient's medication."