Three For trouble

Chapter 6 The Trap

I walked home in a daze.

The streets were loud, filled with honking cars and rushing pedestrians, but I barely registered any of it. My feet moved on autopilot, carrying me through the familiar turns and crosswalks without a single conscious thought. My mind was stuck in a loop. Greg’s text. Matt’s concerned blue eyes. The unfinished words hanging in the air between us.

“I know you're not home. Where are you?”

I hadn't replied. I couldn't. The thought of typing out a lie made my stomach turn, and the thought of telling him the truth—I'm at a diner with the man who got me pregnant—was too insane to even consider. So I had just put my phone away and walked.

When I reached my building, I didn't stop to check the mail. I didn't greet the elderly woman who lived downstairs. I just climbed the three flights of stairs, my legs burning with exhaustion, and fumbled for my keys.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The apartment was dark. Quiet. Exactly how I had left it. The morning light was barely filtering through the thin curtains, casting long shadows across the worn-out floor.

I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and let out a long, shaky breath.

Then I saw it.

A white envelope was lying on the floor just inside the doorway. It was plain, unmarked, with no stamp and no return address. Just my name written across the front in neat, precise cursive.

Emma.

My heart stopped.

I stared at the envelope like it was a venomous snake. My hands started to tremble. There was no way the mailman had slipped it under the door. The mailman didn't deliver unmarked envelopes at nine in the morning.

I knelt down, my knees hitting the creaky floorboards, and picked it up. The paper was heavy, expensive, with a slight texture to it. I turned it over in my hands, my throat tight, and slid my finger under the seal.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

It was the marriage contract. The exact same document Greg had shown me at the table. But this time, it had been modified. A thick red line was drawn through the original date, and a handwritten note was scrawled across the bottom margin in sharp, angular letters.

"I will not be ignored. Sign it by Friday, or I will pull your father's protection. The choice is yours. - G"

The paper slipped from my fingers and floated to the floor.

Friday. That was three days away. Three days to either sign my life away to a cold-blooded stranger, or let my father get eaten alive by the wolves he had been running from for years.

I sank onto the floor, my back against the door, and hugged my knees to my chest.

I was shaking. I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes, building up like a dam ready to break. But I forced them down. I couldn't cry. If I started crying, I wouldn't stop.

I sat there for a long time, the apartment silent around me. The old refrigerator hummed. The clock on the wall ticked. The world continued spinning, completely indifferent to the fact that my life was falling apart.

I reached for my phone. My fingers were clumsy, typing on autopilot. I opened my contacts and scrolled until I found the one name I had been avoiding for weeks.

Nicole.

I didn't even check the time. I just pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.

It rang three times. Then, a groggy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Nicole." My voice cracked.

There was a pause. Then, a sharp intake of breath. "Emma? Oh my God, Emma, is that you? I've been trying to reach you for weeks! Where the hell have you been? I was so worried I almost called the police!"

"I know. I'm sorry." My lip started trembling. "I'm sorry for disappearing. I just... I needed to get away."

"Get away from what?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. The confession sat on the tip of my tongue, heavy and painful. "From my father. From the wedding."

The silence on the other end was long and heavy. Nicole was smart. She had always been smart. She had never liked my father. She had warned me about him years ago, back when we were still in college, back when I still thought he might change.

"Emma," she said softly. "What wedding?"

I took a shaky breath. "My father sold me to a billionaire. He signed a contract. I was supposed to marry a man I'd never met. So I ran."

"You ran?"

"A month ago. I changed my number. I moved. I've been hiding ever since."

"And?" Nicole's voice had shifted. It was sharper now, more alert. "Why are you calling me now? What happened?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to tell her about Greg. I wanted to tell her about the contract, the dinner, the suffocating heat of his hand on mine. I wanted to tell her about the baby.

But the baby wasn't just a baby. The baby was a secret I wasn't ready to share.

"He found me," I whispered. "The billionaire. He found me. And he gave me an ultimatum. I have to sign the contract by Friday, or he'll destroy my father."

"That's insane," Nicole said. "That's literally insane. You can't just—Emma, you can't just marry some stranger because your dad has bad debts. You have rights. You have—"

"I have nothing," I cut in. My voice was hollow. "I have no money, no lawyer, no family. I'm completely alone. And if I don't sign, a man will die."

"Your father is a monster, Emma! Why do you care if he dies?"

"Because he's still my father."

The silence stretched. I could hear Nicole breathing, could picture her pacing her apartment, running her hand through her messy hair like she always did when she was stressed.

"Okay," she finally said. "Okay. Listen to me. I don't care what you've done or where you've been. You're my best friend. You're the only family I've ever had. And I'm not letting you do this alone."

I squeezed the phone tighter, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. "I don't have a way out, Nic."

"We'll find one," she said firmly. "But you need to be smart. You need to stay calm. And you need to stop hiding from me. You hear me? No more ghosting. I don't care if your dad sends the FBI after you. I'm your ride or die."

I laughed. It was a wet, broken sound, but it was real. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, dumbass. Now, what time is it?"

I glanced at the clock. "Almost ten."

"I'm coming over," she announced. "I'm bringing coffee. And we are going to figure this out together. You're not alone anymore, Emma."

"Nicole—"

"No arguments. Give me your address."

I gave her the address. She repeated it back, then told me she'd be there in an hour.

I hung up the phone and held it to my chest, my heart pounding. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel entirely invisible. I had Nicole. She was loud, chaotic, and sometimes completely overbearing—but she was real.

I scrambled to my feet, put the contract back into the envelope, and shoved it into my drawer. I didn't want Nicole to see it. Not yet.

I spent the next hour cleaning—straightening the couch, wiping down the counters, trying to make my tiny apartment look less like a disaster zone. The physical motion helped calm my nerves. For a few minutes, I almost forgot about Greg. Almost forgot about the ultimatum.

At exactly eleven, a loud knock echoed through the apartment.

I opened the door to find Nicole standing there, her arms wrapped around a tray of two large coffees and a bag of pastries. Her hair was a wild mess, her eyes lined with heavy dark circles, and she was wearing mismatched socks.

"I said coffee and emotional support," she said, pushing past me into the apartment. "I didn't say I dressed for the occasion."

I closed the door behind her, a genuine smile breaking through my exhaustion. "Thanks for coming."

She set the drinks down, turned to me, and pulled me into a tight, fierce hug. She smelled like cheap perfume and fresh coffee.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered into my ear. "Now, tell me everything."

I hugged her back, burying my face in her shoulder. I didn't tell her everything. I didn't tell her about the baby. But I told her about Greg. The cold stare. The threat. The way his hand had burned into my skin.

When I finished, Nicole was quiet for a long time.

Then she looked at me, her eyes blazing with protective fury. "That bastard," she said. "He thinks he can scare you? He picked the wrong girl."

I wanted to believe her. I really did.

But as I looked down at my phone, my screen lit up with a new message.

Matt: "I'm worried about you. You looked terrified when you ran out of the diner. Can I see you tomorrow? Please? Just to talk."

I stared at the message.

Three men. Three different worlds.

Greg owned my contract. Matt unknowingly owned my baby. And Nicole was standing in front of me, trying to hold my shattered pieces together.

I didn't know which direction to turn.

But I knew I didn't have much time left to choose.