New Rules

"I don't know what's more humiliating… the tight dress hugging every curve, or the stilettos that barely let me walk." Marcel thought, staring at the reflection in the mirror with a blank expression. His fingers ran gently through the voluminous hair, still not used to the silky strands cascading over bronzed shoulders. Every inch of his body felt like it belonged to someone else—and in a way, it did.

He adjusted the thin strap of the dark lace slip that kept slipping off his shoulder and let out a soft sigh. He was late. Downstairs, in the vast marble-floored room overlooking the ocean, Hernandez was waiting for another romantic afternoon. Expensive dinners, imported wine, lavish jewelry, and sweet words—all part of Marcel’s new role. A role he would never have chosen… if choice were still an option.

Not long ago, things were very different. Marcel was the stereotypical alpha: a successful personal trainer, chiseled body, dangerous smile, and a silver tongue capable of seducing any bored housewife. That’s how it all began. He seduced her. Hernandez’s wife. She fell hard. The affair was intense, short, and most importantly—discovered.

But Hernandez was no ordinary man. He was the man. One of the most feared in the hemisphere, merciless with enemies and particularly imaginative with traitors. Curiously, he spared his wife—perhaps for the children’s sake. Marcel, however… wasn’t so lucky.

A private clinic in the mountains. A discreet team of doctors. Endless sessions of transformation: hormones, implants, surgeries, behavioral training. “You’re going to learn what it means to be my wife,” Hernandez had said, as Marcel, drugged, lay on a cold operating table.

Now, months later, the transformation was complete. Marcel—or rather, Marcela—was a breathtaking woman, with perfect curves, flawless skin, and eyes filled with a mix of submission and quiet rage. She wore whatever was laid out for her—always revealing, always expensive, always paired with impossibly high heels. There were rules. Few, but absolute:

• Always look beautiful.

• Always dress well.

• And always, always wear the highest heels possible.

She took a deep breath, slid off the vanity where she’d been sitting, and felt her leg muscles strain as she balanced on the designer heels. She walked toward the bedroom door. Each step echoed through the mansion like a cruel reminder of who she had once been—and what she was now.

Hernandez awaited with a satisfied smile. “My beautiful Marcela… always on time,” he said, his gaze a strange blend of possession and affection.

And she smiled. After all, in this world, there was no more room for Marcel.