Twisted Vows

CHAPTER 9 - LEAH

Leah

Olivia was on the couch when I got back, her laptop open and untouched, a mug of coffee gone cold beside her. She looked up the second the door closed behind me.

“You were gone a while,” she said. Then her eyes sharpened. “What happened.”

I set my bag down slowly, my fingers numb. My body still felt like it was vibrating, like I’d walked straight out of an electrical storm and hadn’t quite discharged.

“I went to see Jacob.”

Her expression changed instantly. Gone was the casual concern. This was focus. “Why.”

“I had to tell him,” I said quietly. “About the baby.”

She stood so fast the coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug. “Leah.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “I know you told me to wait. But I couldn’t sit with it anymore.”

Olivia folded her arms, pacing once before stopping in front of me. “Okay. And.”

I swallowed. My throat felt tight, swollen. “He said we’re getting married.”

The words sounded foreign out loud. Like they belonged to someone else.

For a moment, Olivia just stared at me.

Then she laughed. Once. Sharp and incredulous. “No.”

“He said I don’t have a choice.”

That wiped the humor from her face completely. “What do you mean, he said you don’t have a choice.”

I stared down at my hands. They were shaking again. “He said if I refuse, he’ll ruin me. That he knows I have no money. No family support. That I won’t finish college.” My voice dropped. “He said he’d make sure no one hires me.”

Olivia’s hands clenched into fists. “That’s a threat.”

“He said he’d take the baby,” I whispered. “That he’d have me declared unfit.”

The room seemed to contract around us.

Olivia crossed the space between us and grabbed my shoulders. “Look at me.”

I did, reluctantly.

“That man does not get to decide your life,” she said, her voice low and furious. “He does not get to corner you like this.”

“I know,” I said, even though I didn’t feel like I knew anything at all. “But he sounded so certain. Like he’d already won.”

From the kitchen, a chair scraped softly.

Maggie stood in the doorway, her gray hair pinned back, her expression calm in a way that immediately quieted the room. She took in the scene in one glance.

“Sit,” she said.

We obeyed without question.

Maggie poured herself a cup of tea before sitting across from us, her movements unhurried. She waited. She always did. Let silence do its work.

“Tell me,” she said finally.

I did. Slower this time. The waiting. The secretary’s thin smile. Jacob’s office. His words, delivered like facts instead of threats. By the time I finished, my voice was barely steady.

Maggie folded her hands on the table. “That man is used to getting compliance through fear.”

Olivia nodded sharply. “And it’s working.”

Maggie’s gaze stayed on me. “Only because you’re exhausted.”

I looked down. “I don’t want to fight. I just want my baby safe.”

“And that’s why you will be careful,” Maggie said. “Not obedient.”

I blinked. “There’s a difference?”

“Always,” she replied. “Men like him rely on you believing there isn’t.”

Olivia leaned forward. “We need a lawyer.”

“I can’t afford—”

Maggie waved a hand dismissively. “I didn’t ask if you could. I said we need one.”

I stared at her, something tight in my chest loosening. “You’d really do that?”

Maggie’s mouth curved into a small, wry smile. “I didn’t raise Olivia to abandon people.”

Olivia grinned. “She raised me to be terrifying.”

Maggie huffed. “Eat your dinner.”

A shaky laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

“We don’t do anything tonight,” Maggie continued. “You rest. You eat. You sleep.” Her gaze sharpened. “Tomorrow, we gather information. We do not panic. And we do not let that man rush us.”

I pressed a hand to my stomach, breathing more evenly now.

“He said marriage was the only option,” I murmured.

Maggie met my eyes steadily. “No one who has to threaten you gets to dictate your choices.”

Olivia squeezed my hand. “You’re not alone, Leah. Whatever happens next, you’re not doing it by yourself.”

For the first time since I walked into Jacob’s office, the fear shifted. It didn’t disappear. But it no longer felt like it owned me.

I nodded slowly.

“Okay,” I said.

And for the first time in days, the word didn’t feel like surrender.