—
**Manon stood in the shadows of the reception hall,** her fingers gripping the stem of her wine glass so tightly she feared it might shatter. The room was aglow with the soft, amber light of chandeliers, casting a warm, romantic hue over the scene. The laughter of the guests, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of a piano filled the air. But all she could focus on was *them*-Rody and Vincent-standing together at the center of it all, the very picture of wedded bliss.
She felt a gnawing unease in the pit of her stomach, a sense of impending doom that she couldn’t shake. Rody had always been good at putting on a show. She had been enchanted by it once, too, drawn in by his charm, his easy smile, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world who mattered. But that was before she learned what lurked beneath the surface.
Vincent looked up at Rody with wide, adoring eyes, completely oblivious to the danger he was in. He was so young, so trusting-practically a child. He couldn’t see what she saw. He didn’t know what she knew. He was just another fly caught in Rody’s web, too blinded by love to recognize the spider for what it was. *How could he know?* Manon wondered, as she forced herself to watch the exchange.
Rody leaned down to kiss Vincent, and for a moment, all Manon could see was the back of his head-his auburn hair neatly styled, his broad shoulders enveloping the younger man in an embrace that seemed protective, almost tender. But she knew better. She knew what those arms could do, how strong they were, how they could squeeze the breath out of you until you were gasping, begging for mercy that never came.
Her eyes drifted to Vincent’s face as he pulled back from the kiss, his expression one of pure, unadulterated joy. He looked up at Rody as if he were some kind of savior, as if the older man had rescued him from a life of mediocrity and loneliness. And maybe, in Vincent’s mind, he had. But what Vincent didn’t realize was that Rody’s love was a trap, a cage disguised as a sanctuary.
Manon took a deep, shaky breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the panic rising, the memories of her own time with Rody threatening to overwhelm her. The nights she had spent crying alone in their bed, the bruises she had hidden under long sleeves, the way he had twisted her mind until she didn’t know what was real anymore. He had taken everything from her-her confidence, her self-worth, her very sense of self-and he had done it all with a smile.
She glanced down at her wine glass, the dark red liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She thought about smashing it against the wall, causing a scene, anything to break the illusion that Rody had so carefully crafted. But she knew it would be useless. No one would believe her. Rody had always been good at covering his tracks, at making sure there was no evidence of his cruelty. And Vincent-poor, sweet Vincent-was already too far gone. He was in love. He wouldn’t listen.
But she had to try. She had to find a way to warn him, to make him see the truth before it was too late. Before he ended up like her.
Manon watched as Rody led Vincent over to a group of guests, his hand resting possessively on the small of the younger man’s back. She could see the way his fingers dug in slightly, a subtle display of ownership that most people would overlook. But she saw it. She *knew* what it meant.
Gathering her courage, Manon downed the rest of her wine and set the glass aside, steeling herself for what she was about to do. She crossed the room, weaving through the crowd, her eyes locked on Vincent. She had to get him alone, had to speak to him without Rody hovering over them like a vulture. But as she approached, Rody turned, his green eyes meeting hers across the room.
For a moment, Manon froze, caught in his gaze like a deer in headlights. The smile he gave her was polite, friendly even, but there was a coldness behind it that sent a shiver down her spine. He *knew* what she was thinking. He always did. And he was daring her to try.
*What’s the worst that could happen?* a voice in her head whispered. *He doesn’t have that kind of power over you anymore. You’re free.*
But was she?
Rody’s smile widened as she hesitated, and Manon realized that he was enjoying this-this game they were playing. He was confident that she wouldn’t say anything, that she wouldn’t risk making a scene and embarrassing herself. He *knew* she was too scared, too broken to stand up to him. And for a brief, horrifying moment, she wondered if he was right.
But then she looked at Vincent-really looked at him-and saw herself in his place. She saw the way he leaned into Rody, the way he clung to him as if he were a lifeline. He didn’t know it yet, but he was already drowning. And she couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen.
With renewed determination, Manon closed the distance between them, forcing a smile onto her face. “*Congratulations,*” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her. “*You two make a beautiful couple.*”
Vincent beamed at her, his naivety almost painful to witness up close. “*Thank you, Manon,*” he said, his voice warm and genuine. “*I’m so glad you could make it. It means a lot to us.*”
*To us.* The words cut through her like a knife, and she had to force herself not to flinch. This wasn’t the time to break down. She needed to keep it together, to get him alone.
“*Could I steal Vincent for a moment?*” she asked, directing her question at Rody. “*Just a quick chat.*”
Rody’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but his smile remained fixed in place. “*Of course,*” he said smoothly, his hand sliding off Vincent’s back. “*But don’t keep him too long. We’ve got a busy night ahead.*”
Manon nodded, trying to ignore the double meaning in his words. She gently took Vincent’s arm, leading him away from the crowd and towards a quieter corner of the room. Once they were out of earshot, she turned to him, her heart pounding in her chest.
“*Vincent,*” she began, struggling to find the right words. “*There’s something I need to tell you. Something important.*”
Vincent frowned, his expression turning serious. “*What is it?*”
Manon hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. “*Rody-he’s not who you think he is,*” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “*He’s… dangerous.*”
Vincent blinked, clearly taken aback. “*Dangerous?* What do you mean?”
“*He’s not what he seems,*” she continued, her voice trembling. “*He can be cruel, controlling. He-*” She stopped, the words catching in her throat as memories of the abuse flooded back. “*He hurt me, Vincent. In ways you can’t imagine.*”
For a moment, Vincent just stared at her, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “*Manon, I… I don’t understand. Rody has never-*”
“*He’s good at hiding it,*” she interrupted, her desperation bleeding through. “*He won’t show you who he really is until he’s sure you’re trapped. That’s how he works. Please, you have to believe me.*”
Vincent looked at her, his brow furrowed, but there was doubt in his eyes. “*Manon, I know you went through a lot with Rody, but… he’s different with me. I’ve never seen that side of him. Maybe-*”
“*No,*” she cut him off, her voice growing more urgent. “*It’s not different. It’s never different. He’ll make you think he loves you, that you’re the only thing that matters to him. But it’s all a lie. He’s…*” She faltered, struggling to find the right word, the one that would make Vincent understand. “*He’s a monster.*”
Vincent flinched at the word, his expression hardening. “*Manon, I appreciate your concern, but Rody isn’t like that. He’s not a monster. He’s been nothing but kind and loving to me. Maybe-*”
Manon shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “*You don’t understand. He’s manipulative. He’ll twist your mind until you don’t know what’s real anymore. He’ll break you, Vincent. Please, don’t let him.*”
But Vincent was already pulling away, his expression closing off. “*I’m sorry, Manon,*” he said quietly, his voice tinged with disappointment. “*But I can’t believe that. Rody… he’s my husband. I love him. And I think you’re wrong about him.*”
Manon felt the world drop out from under her, her heart sinking as she watched the wall come down behind Vincent’s eyes. She had seen it before, in her own reflection-this mixture of denial and stubborn hope. He *needed* to believe in Rody, to hold onto the illusion of love that Rody so expertly crafted. That same hope had been her own prison once, and now it was becoming his.
“*Vincent,*” she pleaded, reaching out to grasp his hand, “*you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t know the kind of darkness he can bring into your life. He’ll make you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong, like you’re the one who’s broken.*” Her voice trembled with desperation. “*He’ll take everything from you.*”
Vincent gently pulled his hand from hers, the distance between them growing more than just physical. “*I’m sorry, Manon,*” he said again, his tone final. “*But I’m not going to let your past with Rody ruin what we have. I love him, and I trust him. I can’t see him the way you do.*”
Manon’s breath hitched, the weight of those words crushing her. There it was, the final nail in the coffin of any hope she had of saving him. She had failed. Rody had won.
Vincent’s expression softened, as if he could see the pain he was causing her. “*Maybe… maybe you need to find a way to move on,*” he suggested gently. “*I think it would be best for both of you. Holding onto this… it’s only hurting you.*”
*Hurting me?* The words stung, a bitter reminder of how far gone Vincent already was. He couldn’t see that he wasn’t just being hurt-he was being consumed, just as she had been. Rody had made sure of that.
But as Vincent gave her a small, sad smile and turned to walk away, Manon felt something inside her snap. She couldn’t let it end like this. She couldn’t just stand by and watch him be swallowed whole by the same man who had destroyed her. Not again. Not when she knew what was coming.
“*He’ll kill you,*” she whispered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
Vincent paused mid-step, his back to her. The silence that followed was suffocating, and when he finally turned around, the look in his eyes was one of cold disbelief.
“*What did you say?*”
Manon’s heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t back down. She had nothing left to lose. “*He’ll kill you, Vincent,*” she repeated, louder this time, the finality of it sinking into her bones. “*Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but eventually, he will. He’ll take everything you are, and when there’s nothing left for him to drain, he’ll discard you like he did me.*”
Vincent stared at her, his eyes searching her face as if trying to decipher whether she was serious. But the more he looked, the more the lines of his face hardened with resolve.
“*You’re wrong,*” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “*Rody loves me. And I love him. You can’t change that, no matter what you say.*”
Manon opened her mouth to respond, to tell him that he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but the words stuck in her throat. It was no use. He wouldn’t believe her. He didn’t want to believe her. Rody’s grip on him was already too strong, too insidious. Vincent was trapped, and there was nothing she could do to save him.
She watched in numb silence as Vincent turned and walked away, his steps quickening as if he couldn’t put enough distance between them. Her mind raced with memories-Rody’s hands around her throat, the way he had smiled as she gasped for air, the way he had whispered that she was nothing without him. And now, Vincent was walking into the same hell, blindfolded by love and lies.
As she stood there, watching Rody and Vincent slip back into the crowd, Manon felt the crushing weight of helplessness settle over her. She had tried to warn him, to protect him, but it wasn’t enough. The darkness had already claimed Vincent, and soon it would consume him completely.
The wedding celebration continued around her, the guests oblivious to the impending disaster. Manon could only stand there, a silent witness to the beginning of the end. She knew, deep down, that there was no escape for Vincent now. Rody had him, just as he had once had her. And in time, Vincent would understand the truth-when it was too late to save himself.
As the night wore on, the laughter and joy around her felt like a twisted mockery of the reality she knew was lurking beneath the surface. Manon took one last look at the newlyweds, their smiles bright and their eyes filled with the promise of a future that she knew would never come to pass.
And then she turned and left the reception, leaving behind the nightmare she had escaped from-but knowing that Vincent, poor, naïve Vincent, was walking straight into it.
—
Manon stepped into the night, the cool air hitting her face, carrying away the warmth of the reception hall. She felt like she was walking away from a crime scene, from a place that would soon be filled with horrors no one else could foresee. As she walked to her car, she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt-guilt for not having done more, guilt for not being able to save Vincent, guilt for surviving what she knew would soon be his fate.
The night sky above was clear, the stars shining brightly, indifferent to the darkness that lay beneath them. Manon got into her car, the engine’s low rumble doing nothing to dispel the dread that had settled deep in her chest. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to forget tonight, just as she hadn’t been able to forget all those other nights with Rody.
As she drove away, leaving the sounds of celebration behind her, Manon felt a cold, bitter truth settle in her mind: Vincent was lost, just as she had been. And all she could do now was wait for the inevitable. She knew, with a certainty that made her sick to her stomach, that she would be attending another event soon-*Vincent’s funeral.*
The stars above blinked, uncaring, as Manon drove into the night, the weight of her past and Vincent’s future pressing down on her like a shroud. The only thing she could do now was try to move on, to forget, but she knew that Rody wouldn’t let her. He never really let go. And in the quiet of the night, she could almost hear his voice, whispering her name, reminding her that she was still his-*always his.*
But the voice was softer now, almost drowned out by the sound of her tires on the road, by the wind rushing past her windows. It would never go away completely, she knew that. But maybe-just maybe-it would fade, until it was nothing more than a distant echo, a memory that couldn’t hurt her anymore.
But for Vincent, it would never fade. For Vincent, it was only beginning.
Manon drove in silence, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. The road stretched out before her, dark and endless, much like the pit of dread in her stomach. She replayed the events of the evening in her mind, unable to shake the image of Vincent’s naive, hopeful smile. He had no idea what was coming, no idea what he had tied himself to for the rest of his life. The thought made her sick, a visceral reaction to the darkness she knew was creeping up on him.
It wasn’t long before her phone buzzed on the passenger seat, a notification lighting up the screen. Manon glanced at it, expecting some trivial message, but what she saw made her blood run cold.
A picture of Vincent and Rody, sent from an unknown number. The two of them were sitting close together on a couch, Vincent’s head resting on Rody’s shoulder, their smiles so genuine, so full of love that it seemed impossible to associate the image with the horror she knew lurked behind Rody’s eyes.
But it wasn’t the picture itself that filled her with dread-it was the message that accompanied it: *He’s mine now. Always was.*
She knew instantly who had sent it. There was no mistaking the possessive undertone, the cruel reminder that no matter how far she tried to run, Rody would always find a way to remind her that she was never really free. He had found her weakness, her guilt over leaving Vincent to his fate, and now he was twisting the knife, making sure she knew that Vincent’s suffering would be on her conscience.
Manon pulled over to the side of the road, her heart racing. She stared at the message, her mind a whirlwind of panic and fear. Her hands shook as she contemplated what to do. Should she call the police? Should she try to warn Vincent again? But she knew it was pointless. She had already tried, and Vincent had made his choice. He had chosen to believe in the lie that Rody had carefully crafted.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she typed out a response: *Leave him alone, Rody. Please.* It was a desperate plea, one she knew would fall on deaf ears, but she had to try.
The reply came almost immediately, another taunting message that made her blood boil: *Why would I do that? He belongs to me now, just like you did.*
Manon choked back a sob, the reality of the situation sinking in like a stone in her chest. There was nothing she could do. She had tried to save Vincent, but Rody had already sunk his claws in too deep. And now, all she could do was watch from the sidelines as history repeated itself-this time with Vincent as the victim.
She stared at the message, the weight of her helplessness crushing her. Rody had won. He always did. He knew how to break people down, how to make them feel like they were nothing without him. And Vincent, poor, sweet Vincent, had walked right into his trap.
With a shaking hand, Manon deleted the messages, but the images and words were burned into her mind. She knew they would haunt her for a long time, just like the memories of her own time with Rody. As she put the car back in gear and continued driving, the tears flowed freely down her cheeks, a silent acknowledgment of the battle she had lost before it had even begun.
Manon couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that clung to her as she drove aimlessly through the night. Every mile she put between herself and that wedding reception felt like a futile attempt to outrun the inevitable. She thought of Vincent’s smile, the way his eyes had sparkled when he talked about Rody, and she felt a deep, hollow ache in her chest.
She knew Rody’s game, knew it all too well. He would charm Vincent, shower him with affection and attention, make him feel like he was the center of his world. But then, slowly, the darkness would creep in. The possessiveness, the manipulation, the subtle ways Rody would chip away at Vincent’s sense of self until there was nothing left but a hollow shell-a shell that Rody would discard the moment it no longer served his needs.
And when that time came, when Vincent was left broken and alone, Manon knew she would get another message. Another taunt, another reminder that Rody had destroyed yet another life.
But by then, it would be too late.
Manon found herself driving towards the city, the skyline looming in the distance, a beacon of light in the darkness. She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t have a destination in mind. All she knew was that she couldn’t go home-not now, not with the weight of what had happened pressing down on her.
She pulled into a parking lot at the edge of the city and turned off the engine, sitting in the silence that followed. Her mind raced, replaying every conversation she’d had with Vincent, every attempt she’d made to warn him. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had failed him, that she had let him walk into Rody’s trap without doing enough to stop it.
In the end, there was nothing left for her to do but wait. Wait for the day when Vincent would realize the truth, when he would see Rody for the monster he really was. And when that day came, she would be there for him, just as she had wished someone had been there for her.
But until then, all she could do was live with the knowledge that she had tried, and failed, to save him from the same fate that had nearly destroyed her.
And that knowledge would haunt her for the rest of her days.
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