is a dish best served cold

Marcus stood motionless in the hallway, the ring on his finger suddenly feeling very heavy.

He could still hear their laughter. Cold anger settled deep in his chest, sharp and clear. No shouting. No storming in. Just ice.

The thought for him to simply step in and ordering them to stop talking about him. They would fall silent mid-laugh, suddenly ashamed and squirming under his gaze. It would feel good for a moment. But it was too small. Too quick. It would not make up for years of being called controlling every time he asked for basic respect.

Perhaps he should consider something stronger Completely reversing their loyalty. Making both of them realize he was the best thing that had ever happened to them and that they now wanted to please him and fix everything they had done wrong.

They would flip instantly. Belinda would become **** to be the perfect wife. Emily would suddenly see him as impressive and desirable.

They would trip over themselves to serve the man they had just mocked. It would be satisfying. But it still felt too soft. They would keep too much of their old personalities. He wanted more than that.

Marcus even considered seizing full control of the money, the apartment, and the household. Making Belinda start doing all the chores while genuinely respecting him and treating him properly. It would be cold justice for every time she had used him for bills and labour while calling him toxic.

Then there was the temptation of even them against each other. Making Belinda see Emily as a terrible influence and want nothing more to do with her. He could watch their friendship implode without raising his voice. Clean. Efficient.

Marcus’s eyes narrowed.

None of those were enough.

They had spent years tearing him down. Belinda had cheated on him repeatedly, laughed about it, and still called him insecure and controlling whenever he pushed back. Emily had encouraged every bit of it, sneering at him in his own home. They had mocked him as less than a man, as pathetic, as a sad sack who existed only to serve their convenience.

A slow, icy smile touched his lips.

He knew exactly what he wanted it was the perfect, permanent **** for every insult, every betrayal, every time they had called him controlling, toxic, and insecure.

With that Marcus stepped into the living room.

Both women turned at the sound of his footsteps. Their smiles froze.

Marcus looked at them with calm, unblinking eyes and spoke in a low, even voice.

“From now on,” Marcus began coldly, “both of you understand that you are my maids.”

“Loyal. Faithful. Completely devoted to serving me and making my life better,” Marcus explained with a vicious relish. “You will go to work during the day and do your jobs to the best of your ability, but the moment you are done, you come straight back here.”

Taking in a deep breath feeling the rings power Marcus continued. “The two of you find deep satisfaction in obeying me,” he instructed. “You want to wear the uniforms, do the chores, and take care of me in every way. You no longer feel any attraction to anyone else. Only I and my recognition matter to you now.”

The ring flared warm against his skin.

Belinda and Emily blinked once. Then their expressions softened into something eager and sincere.

“Yes, Marcus,” Belinda said, her voice already changing, warm and obedient. “Of course.”

Emily set her wine glass down carefully. “We’re here for you, sir. Whatever you need.”

Their eyes shone with genuine devotion.

Marcus felt the cold anger settle into something sharper. Something permanent.

This was only the beginning.