Red Trophy

I was forced into an arranged marriage the moment I turned eighteen.

My father, Alaric Winslow, handed me over like a business transaction sealed in blood and silence. I was promised to a man I had never met—a man who made it clear from the very beginning that he wanted nothing to do with me. Simon Thorne. Twenty-four. An Enigma. Heir to one of the most ruthless mafia dynasties in the country. Powerful. Untouchable. Cold.

I used to believe the marriage was meant to strengthen our families, to forge alliances between giants. But I was wrong. So very wrong.

In our world, hierarchy is everything. And in this twisted system, Omegas fall at the bottom of the food chain—useless unless they’re rare. Unless they’re elite. Prime Omegas are bred, preserved, and sold to the highest bidder like rare wine. Their purpose: to birth strong children, to raise legacies.

My mother, Soren Winslow, was one of them—an Elite Prime Omega married to an Enigma. Together, they were meant to birth greatness. And they did.

Well... almost.

My twin sister, Iris, presented at sixteen. An Elite Prime Omega, just like our mother. Perfect. Precious. Everything they prayed for. But me? I was nothing. Still unpresented. An embarrassment. An abomination.

My parents loathed me for it. I was supposed to marry Simon, but that arrangement was meant for Iris. She was the chosen one. Unfortunately—for me—she found true love and ran away with it, leaving behind a mess only I could clean up.

So there I stood, trembling at the altar, palms clammy, heart sinking. The man in front of me smiled for the cameras, but I saw it for what it was. A mask. A sneer. His smile bled hatred and quiet resentment.

Our wedding night was even more pathetic. He didn’t even bother to share a room with me.

Back then, I was naïve. I thought I could change him. Be what he wanted. Become what he loved. But I was never his wife—I was just a trophy he could display when necessary. A pawn dressed in white.

My marriage was a graveyard of my hopes. Women and men defiled our bed nightly, their laughter echoing through the halls. My husband slept with them—all of them. And he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Don’t touch me, you worthless wretch,” he once hissed, slapping me across the face in front of his guest—some nameless boy with a smug smirk. “I don’t know why I even married you. Hurry up and die already.”

Then he kissed the boy. Hands roaming. Lust on display like a weapon.

That night I crawled into bed alone, swallowing tears, whispering to the silence, Is that what love feels like? Will I ever be worthy of a touch like that?

That boy had a name: Loac Socen. An Elite Prime Omega. The first and only one Simon ever brought back to the house. From the moment he walked in, I knew—he wasn’t leaving.

And that’s when everything fell apart.

The beatings grew more frequent. The insults more vicious. I became the empty vessel—a wife without a gender. A disgrace. An unworthy mate.

But Simon couldn’t love Loac freely while I was still in the picture. Divorce would bring shame. Gossip. Questions. Weakness. So he made a decision.

He would kill me.

My parents didn’t care. They never called. Never visited. Never sent help. I was sold off like scrap metal, a blemish on their legacy. And that… that infuriated me.

So I reacted.

I caught them in my bed again. Loac scrambled to cover himself, the sheets clinging to his flawless skin. Simon didn’t flinch. He sneered.

“You lousy wretch. Who the hell told you to come in here?” he barked.

“I’m your wife,” I whispered, fists clenched, waiting for the blow.

He laughed.

Loac laughed with him.

Simon walked toward me slowly, eyes cold, voice soft like a blade. That was the first time he ever truly spoke to me.

“You think a thing like you deserves someone like me?” he murmured. “You’re dirt. You’ll always be dirt. Step aside, Leo. Let Loac and I have our happiness. You don’t belong.”

I raised my hand to strike him. “How dare you—”

But before I could even touch him, Simon had grabbed me. Slapped me. Yanked my hair. Threw me backward.

I crashed into the bedroom door. the door handle dug into my skin, making me groan in pain.

Then he dragged me through the hallway, his fists landing like hammers until everything slowed. I remember the moment I tripped. The rail. The fall. Head-first into the cold, hard marble below.

They say your life flashes before your eyes. I saw mine—all of it.

i saw my past, i also saw my future.

My sister’s laughter. Her stories of true love. The way we used to dance under the rain. The boy I used to be. And the monster I was becoming.

I should’ve died that night. But I didn’t.

And now?

I live, the pain i felt, both physically and mentally, i would give it back ten folds as a reward.

I, Leo Winslow, will get my revenge.