contract Bonds

chapter 4

ANGELA

Laughter. Real, easy laughter. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like until Zara practically choked on her mojito, mid-sentence.

“No, but listen,” she says, wiping her mouth, “this man told me he’s an entrepreneur, right? I ask what kind. He says he sells perfumes… in traffic.”

Janet cackles. “Ambitious.”

Emma deadpans, “That’s better than the guy who told me he was a forex lord and then asked me to send him fifty dollars for ‘investment’.”

I nearly snort into my drink. The rooftop bar glows with soft lights, chilled music drifting through the air. It’s peaceful, warm, the kind of night I used to dream of when everything got overwhelming. The kind of night where I almost—almost—feel normal again.

Except I’m not.

it's been a month since my encounter with my blue eyed stranger.

Jaden, of course.

And I've been feeling quite off lately.

“Okayyyyy,” Zara leans forward, eyes glittering. “You haven’t said a word about Mason.

Are we gonna pretend he didn’t disappear off the surface of your life?”

I stiffen. Emma reaches out and gently taps Zara’s arm. “Let it go. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

But I’m tired of carrying it in silence.

“We’re done.”

Three pairs of perfectly manicured hands freeze over cocktails.

“Wait… what?” Janet says.

I look up, smiling bitterly. “Caught him cheating. With my sister.”

Zara actually gasps.

Emma whispers, “No…”

“Yeah.” I swirl my drink slowly. “The same sister who helped me pick out my engagement dress. The same one who knew I was second-guessing everything and told me to trust love. Apparently, she meant her love.”

None of them say anything for a beat. Just the steady hum of the city beneath us.

Finally, Janet leans back. “Well, if you need someone to s***h tires or mess with him, I’m available.”

Zara raises her glass. “To new beginnings, then. And toxic exes who will one day choke on their own ego.”

I raise mine too, but before it touches my lips, my phone buzzes on the table.

DAD.

I hesitate before swiping.

“Angela,” Tom Parker says briskly when I pick up. “Dinner at the Williams’ tonight. I told you.”

“What dinner?”

He sighs like I’m already the disappointment of the century.

“Family dinner. Mason’s parents are expecting us. Be there in an hour.”

I glance at my drink. “You want me to sit at a table with the man who cheated on me?”

“You are still connected to that family. Until we sever ties officially, you will not burn bridges. We need them for the community expansion project—”

There it is. We.

“You mean you need them,” I say flatly.

“Don’t embarrass me tonight, Angela. Just show up, smile, and stop acting like a rebellious child.”

He hangs up.

I stare at the phone like it slapped me.

Emma reaches for my hand. “You okay?”

“No,” I say truthfully. “But I’ll fake it.”

—---

The Williams’ estate still smells like money and old, silent judgment. Too much marble, too little warmth.

Sophia greets me with that strained smile. “Angela. I see you’ve chosen defiance over dignity tonight.”

“Nice to see you too, Sophia,” I say, brushing past her.

She’s always hated me.

Said I was too ambitious, too outspoken. Called me a headline-hunter because I made my first million before twenty-five and didn’t lean on my father’s name.

In her world, women married into wealth.

They didn’t build it.

I catch sight of Mason at the end of the hallway, leaning casually against a pillar like he doesn’t owe me shattered trust and an apology. His eyes trail me slowly.

“Angela,” he says with a smile that curdles my stomach.

And then—literally—my stomach turns.

A wave of heat rushes to my face, and for a terrifying second, the room spins. I blink, steadying myself with a hand against the wall.

Not now. Please, not now.

“Everything okay?” Mason asks, too smug to sound sincere.

I nod stiffly and follow them into the dining room.

Dinner begins with too many forks and too few reasons to stay. My stepmother Cassandra is already cozying up to Sophia like they share DNA.

Dad makes polite conversation about projects I’ve been excluded from for months now.

Sophia cuts into her lamb. “Angela, how’s the boutique? Still playing dress-up for the elite?”

I sip water, avoiding wine. My stomach is churning. “Still outselling your family’s quarterly investments, I believe.”

Janet would’ve applauded that one.

But halfway through my plate, a familiar nausea spikes. My vision blurs for half a second. I grip the edge of the table. My skin feels clammy.

“Are you alright?” Sophia says, brow raised.

I force a smile. “Just a little hot in here.”

I excuse myself and stumble into the guest bathroom, slamming the door shut before I throw up.

I grip the sink, staring at my reflection.

Too pale. Lips dry. Eyes… scared.

And then the thought creeps in again.

When was the last time I had my period?

But now that I think about it—

The bloating. The nausea. The sore breasts. The heightened sense of smell.

The wine suddenly tasting disgusting.

“Oh my God, it can't be.....” I whisper.

A knock rattles the door. “Angela? Are you okay?” Dad.

I flush the sink and open the door slowly. “I’m fine.”

He eyes me. “You don’t look it.”

I meet his gaze. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Smiling for the family.”

He steps back like I’ve slapped him. I walk past, holding my head up, the bathroom door clicking shut behind me.

But inside?

Everything is unraveling.