My heart races as I feel Vincent's eyes bore into me from across the ballroom. The slow dance ends, and I try to steady my shaking hands, desperate for a moment of reprieve. But before I can slip away, a small figure appears before me. Joey, Vincent's six-year-old son, stares up at me with an unsettling intensity that mirrors his father's.
"It's time for our dance, Mommy," he declares, his voice dripping with a dark sweetness.
I flinch at the title. "Joey, I'm not your-"
"Oh, but you are now," Vincent interjects, suddenly looming over us both. He places a heavy hand on my shoulder, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "You're his mother, Sammi. And it's tradition for the mother and son to share a special dance."
I look between them, my stomach churning. "I can't. Please, don't make me do this."
Vincent's grip tightens, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper. "You will dance with our son, Sammi. You don't want to disappoint him, do you?"
Tears sting my eyes as I realize the futility of my protests. With trembling hands, I lift Joey into my arms, his weight settling against me like a lead ball. The music starts, a haunting melody that seems to mock my despair.
As we sway awkwardly to the rhythm, I notice three women glaring at me from the sidelines. Their eyes are filled with a seething jealousy that makes my skin crawl. Vincent, ever the manipulator, catches their gaze and flashes them a charming smile.
He leans in close to one of the women, whispering something that makes her blush. I watch in disbelief as he flirts shamelessly, his attention flitting between the three of them like a hummingbird.
"Daddy loves to play games," Joey whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "But he always comes back to us."
I shudder at the implication, my arms tightening around the boy who seems to have inherited his father's twisted nature. The dance feels like an eternity, each step a painful reminder of the inescapable web I'm caught in.
As the final notes fade away, Vincent appears at my side once more. He takes Joey from my arms, placing a possessive hand on the small of my back.
"You did well, my dear," he purrs, his lips brushing against my ear. "Now, let's show everyone just how perfect our little family is."
He leads me back to the center of the ballroom, his arm snaking around my waist in a vice-like grip. I can feel the eyes of the guests upon us, their whispers and speculations filling the air like a noxious gas.
Vincent raises a glass, his voice booming across the room. "To my beautiful bride and our darling son. May our love endure forever."
The guests raise their glasses in a toast, their faces a sea of false smiles and barely concealed envy. I stand there, trapped in Vincent's embrace, the weight of my new reality crushing me from all sides. As the music swells once more, I close my eyes and pray for a miracle, knowing deep down that none will come.
