Vanished Vows

Chapter 4

Amelia hadn’t planned on leaving her room.

She’d spent the better part of the night curled up in a corner of the bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind too clouded with the poison of Alejandro’s words to even attempt to sleep. The anger had settled into something colder—something quieter. She was no longer crying. No longer screaming.

But she couldn’t escape the crushing weight of it all.

The door to her room was cracked open—just a sliver. No sound from outside, no indication of anyone being there. She stood, her bare feet gliding over the soft carpet, and pulled it open just a fraction more.

That’s when she heard it.

Laughter.

Light. Familiar. Too intimate.

Her breath hitched as she stepped toward the hallway, her pulse quickening. The laughter wasn’t hers. It wasn’t the sound of her own misery echoing off the walls.

She crept closer, the hallway stretching out before her like the narrow path she’d been walking her entire marriage—lonely and suffocating.

And then she saw them.

Alejandro.

Isabella.

Their silhouettes were clear in the open living room, the grand windows framing them like they were in some twisted, private world of their own. Alejandro’s back was to her, but there was no mistaking it. His lips were pressed against Isabella’s with a fervor that made Amelia’s stomach twist in ways she hadn’t imagined possible.

For a moment, everything around her went still. The world fell silent, as though the universe itself was holding its breath.

Amelia’s chest tightened. A coldness spread through her veins, turning her limbs to stone. He hadn’t even bothered to hide it.

The kiss—passionate, possessive, like he was marking his territory—wasn't the kind of thing that happened by accident. This wasn’t some simple flirtation. No, this was something deeper, something far more calculated. Alejandro hadn’t even turned around to see her standing there.

Amelia’s breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, watching them. The seconds felt like hours. The weight of betrayal threatened to swallow her whole.

This was what he had wanted all along.

Not her. Never her.

Without another thought, she turned and stepped back into her room, closing the door with a soft click, the faintest echo of a heart breaking in the silence that followed.

The door clicked shut behind her with a finality that felt like a tomb closing over her.

Amelia didn’t know where to go. Her legs felt like jelly, too weak to hold her. She stumbled backward, her body hitting the bed with a thud as she sank down. The room was spinning, her vision clouded with the image of Alejandro and Isabella tangled together like they had every right to be.

Every word he’d ever said to her, every moment they had shared, suddenly seemed hollow, like cheap plastic—fake, brittle, easily discarded.

She curled into herself, her knees pulled up to her chest. This wasn’t real. None of it was. Her entire marriage was a lie—a facade built on contracts, status, and expectations. And now, Alejandro had made it clear what he really wanted.

The tears started again, but they came in broken, shallow gasps. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t even try. Each sob felt like a dagger to her chest, an unrelenting reminder that she wasn’t enough.

Her hands trembled as she wiped at her face, trying to clear the tears, but they just kept coming. She could feel her heart shattering into pieces, each one cutting deeper than the last. She had been foolish. So foolish to believe, even for a second, that this marriage could be anything more than a transaction.

Her mind raced. Memories flashed in and out—flashes of the wedding, of her father’s approval, of the empty promises whispered in her ear. “It will be worth it, Amelia.”

“He will learn to love you.”

“This is your future.”

The weight of those words pressed down on her, suffocating her. Her future? This wasn’t a future. This was a prison.

She let out a strangled cry, clutching at her hair, yanking it as if she could physically tear herself apart and leave the pain behind. But it didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. Every ounce of her body was consumed by the suffocating ache of betrayal and humiliation.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, but she didn’t look at it. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to see what messages awaited her. What was the point? All the words in the world wouldn’t fix what had been broken—what had been ripped from her.

She fell back against the bed, gasping for breath as the tears continued to fall.

She had no one.

No one but herself. And even that felt like it was slipping away, like her identity was being erased, piece by piece.

A dull numbness started to creep in, an instinct to shut down, to lock herself in this suffocating bubble of despair.

But deep down, there was something else—a whisper, faint but insistent. She wasn’t done yet.

Her eyes narrowed, fingers curling into the sheets, nails biting into the fabric as if she could channel that anger into something. She wasn’t going to be a victim.

Not anymore.

Amelia stood there, her breath shaky but steadier than before. A fire was beginning to burn inside her—faint, but growing.

She stepped toward the window, gazing out at the city lights flickering below, wondering if anyone else felt as empty as she did.

The phone buzzed again.

This time, she reached for it.

A single message from Natalie.

"I heard what happened. You don’t deserve this. I’m coming over."

Amelia’s heart skipped. She stared at the screen, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. It felt like the weight of the entire world had been lifted, just knowing that Natalie still cared enough to reach out.

She was about to text back when another message came in.

"Get ready. We’re going to fix this, Amelia. Trust me."

Amelia’s fingers trembled, but this time it wasn’t out of fear.

It was out of something more—determination.

She took a steadying breath. Maybe she wasn’t alone in this fight after all.