Page 1 of Broken Bonds

Chapter 1

Stella

Fuckity, fuck.

Life is a precious gift, or so they say. But at the moment, mine feels more like a chaotic rollercoaster ride.

My love story began when Lionel—my husband—stopped at my roadside honey stall, and since then, we have been inseparable. Well, as close as you can get with him always jetting off on business trips. Lionel was the epitome of charm, showering me with love and romance like a true gentleman. Little did I know that our love story would take a turn towards Cinderella’s, with one major difference—instead of a pumpkin carriage, my Prince Charming transformed into an ogre during our honeymoon weekend. The happy-go-lucky boy I fell for became a possessive and controlling man, whose main goal was to make me his baby-making machine. And now, I find myself in a conundrum. After eagerly waiting for three days and peeing on countless sticks, all that resulted was a red stain on my underwear. Oh, the quirks of being in love!

Dammit.

How in the hell am I going to tell Lionel?

My husband, the wine connoisseur and aspiring vineyard owner, always tells me his workload is pushing him to the brink of insanity. But I know it’s just his passionate drive for success that fuels his ambition. He says that management sees potential in him—and a promotion is just around the corner—and after saving for a while, we’ll be able to buy the old vineyard that brought him to Carrollton, my hometown. In the meantime, I play the patient and supportive wife, taking on all the tasks and responsibilities he throws my way.

After we tied the knot, he insisted on me taking his last name. Goodbye to my maiden name, Lambert. As an only child, I secretly wanted to keep my own name or at least hyphenate it, but Mr. Lionel Kral is not one for compromising. And let’s just say that was just the beginning of his controlling nature. A big red flag that I foolishly ignored.

The bad thing is this has become a habit in our household. For Lionel, it’s his way or the highway, so to avoid problems, I’ve had to yield more times than I would like.

Lionel has also notified me in the event of something happening to him, a prestigious lawyer in Louisville has the papers with his last wishes. That night I fell asleep disheartened. Crying my eyes out. Who can think of death just a few days after marriage? My husband. He told me he wanted to be cautious, with all the traveling he does, and he didn’t want me to worry, especially with a baby. And when it came down to taking care of our family, I had to agree with him.

I should stop overthinking it. I should get up and head to my mother’s house to take care of the bees. After the tragic accident that took my father’s life when I was eleven years old, I had to take over the family business. I was forced to grow up early because my mother could hardly function; she hardly ever opened her eyes or accepted to eat anything I placed in front of her. A couple of years later, my mother found solace in religion; the church helped to fill the void that was left behind after my father’s death.

Hopefully, I’ll have plenty of extra honey and royal jelly, which means I’ll be able to make some soaps and lip balms to sell at the recreation center and church. The extra money would come in handy, as I want to buy a book to prepare me to take my SATs.

Just as Lionel has his dreams, I also have mine.

I enjoy beekeeping, and I’m sure that with further education on how to grow an online business, other than the stuff I’ve learned through watching YouTube videos, I could expand my operation, and maybe open an online store and stop having to keep all my eggs in the same basket.

They say the future of retail is online, right?

Perhaps Lionel seeing how much I’ve achieved would allow me more freedom. I have to do something for myself, otherwise, the walls on this little house will close in on me.

The sharp stabbing pain I feel from the cramp reminds me that time doesn’t stop because I’ve decided to stay hidden like an ostrich, with my head buried in the sand.

Time runs its course, yet, the fucking clock does not stop for anyone or anything.

Grunting, as my back protests the pain, I reluctantly get out of bed, ready to hop into the shower. This commiserating pep talk must end right now.

Right as I’m stepping into the shower, I hear my doorbell chime along with my mother’s shrill voice calling out my name just beyond my front door. “Stella.” What’s she doing here? She hardly ever comes to our house. And even when she does, it’s never unannounced.

“Stella.” Her screeching pierces my ears. “Stella Annabel, where are you? Open the door.”

I slip on the thick robe hanging from a hook at the back of the bathroom door and run off to see what this emergency is about.

I throw open the door. “Good morning to you too, Mom! What brings you to this side of town so early?”

My mother looks at me and twists her mouth a little. She’s pale and sweaty, it seems as if she ran all the way here from her house. She even has on the apron she uses for cooking. She runs inside and starts to scan the living room as if she’s searching for something.

“Have you seen the news today?” Wow, this is weird. Usually, she doesn’t spend much time in front of the black box, as she calls it.

“No, why?” I don’t like to start the day by stressing out about all the madness going on around the world.

“Why haven’t you turned on the TV?” she asks as she looks around again. “Have you talked to Lionel today? When was the last time you spoke to your husband?”

I raise my brows… This is weird, my mother has never been interested in my relationship with Lionel.

“We spoke yesterday afternoon.”

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