Chapter 5
1199 Words
Clarissa
I reached deeper into my purse and pulled out a different card. My own card.
What Nicho never realized while he was too busy controlling everything—I had been quietly saving. Every birthday gift, freelance job, side hustle, spare cash. Little by little, I built a personal account. And now? It had more than enough.
I inserted the card.
Approved.
I gave the cashier a sweet smile. “Guess that one works.”
She handed me the bags. “Have a nice day.”
“Oh, trust me,” I said, “I will.”
After paying for the groceries, I was walked to the car when everything was finally set in the trunk, I got into the car and drove off in the direction of home.
I arrived home and began taking everything I bought into the house. I had just set the last grocery bag on the kitchen counter when my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen. It was David Langston. Nicho’s smug, overpaid lawyer.
I groaned. “Of course.”
I answered on speaker, too exhausted to even hold the phone to my ear. “What do you want, David?”
“Clarissa,” he said smoothly, like we were old friends catching up over coffee, “you’re aware that you’ve violated a binding agreement by walking out on Nicho, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Cut the crap, David. I’ve got two days left on that damn contract.”
“You do,” he agreed. “But leaving the marital home before the expiration date breaches Clause 14C. You should take a look at it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What does that clause even say?”
“It outlines that both parties must maintain cohabitation until the final day, unless otherwise mutually agreed upon. You leaving without Nicho’s consent puts you at risk for legal action—possibly even a fine. Or worse, a lawsuit.”
I laughed once, it sounded dry. “So let me get this straight. He can choke me, insult me, treat me like garbage, and your concern is that I left the house?”
“I don’t make the rules, Clarissa,” he said with a calm voice. “I just enforce them.”
“Right. And conveniently ignore abuse.”
“Check the contract,” he said. “Page six, bottom paragraph. That’s all I’ll say for now.”
And then he hung up.
I stared at the phone with a clenched jaw. My hands balled into fists on the counter. I could almost hear Nicho gloating from wherever he was. This wasn’t about love or marriage anymore. It was about control. And he was trying to keep me on a leash—right up to the very last second.
But he had no idea who he was dealing with now.
I stood frozen in my kitchen, the buzz of the fridge humming like background noise to the rage building up inside me. That phone call didn’t just ruin my mood. It lit a fire.
I grabbed the envelope from my bag and stormed into the bedroom. I yanked the contract out and flipped through the pages, my fingers trembling. "Page six, bottom paragraph," I muttered.
There it was. Clause 14C.
“Both parties agree to remain under the same roof until the expiration of the marriage agreement, unless mutual consent is signed and documented. Breach of this condition may result in financial penalties or legal proceedings.”
I let out a sharp breath. “What a load of garbage.”
My phone buzzed again. A text from Dante.
Dante: You okay?
Me: Nicho’s lawyer just called. Says I breached the contract.
Dante: Don’t stress. We’ll find a way around it. You’ve got evidence, Clarissa. That matters.
Me: I’m not going back there.
Dante: And you won’t. Let me look into that clause.
I tossed the phone on the bed and walked back into the kitchen. I needed water. Or a bottle of wine. Maybe both.
Before I could open the fridge, the doorbell rang.
I paused. Not expecting anyone. I walked to the door and peeped through the peephole. No one.
Weird. I cracked the door open a bit, and just as I did, an envelope fell at my feet. I bent down, picked it up, and scanned it. It had no name, no stamp. Just one word written in bold ink: REMAIN.
My chest tightened. I walked back inside and locked the door.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was a different number.
Unknown: You should think twice before defying him. I stared at the message. Who the hell was this? I called Dante immediately.
He picked up on the first ring. “Clarissa?”
“Someone just dropped an envelope at my door. It just said ‘Remain.’ Then I got a text saying I should think twice before defying Nicho.”
He was quiet for a second. “Do not open the door for anyone. I’ll come over right now. You’re not safe alone.”
“You think he’s behind this?”
“It reeks of his style. Threats, manipulation, fear tactics.”
I swallowed hard. “He really thinks I’ll crawl back.”
“You won’t,” Dante said firmly. “We’re not playing defense anymore, Cass. We’re going full offense.”
He hung up, and I exhaled. I leaned against the wall, letting my head rest back. Ten minutes later, I heard a knock again.
“Clarissa, it’s me,” Dante’s voice came through.
I opened the door fast. “You didn’t waste time.”
He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the hallway behind me. He shut the door and locked it.
“Where’s the envelope?” he asked.
I handed it to him. He opened it with a tissue, careful not to smudge any prints. Empty. Just the word.
He looked up at me. “He wants to rattle you.”
“It’s working,” I admitted.
He put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s losing control. That’s why he’s acting out. He knows he’s cornered.”
“His lawyer wasn’t bluffing though. That clause is airtight.”
“There’s always a loophole,” Dante said. “I have a contact at the family court. We’ll file a complaint, citing domestic violence. Your evidence gives us a solid chance.”
I nodded slowly. “I want to bury him. Not just legally. Emotionally. Socially.”
Dante gave me a look. “We will. But first, we get you protected. I want you to have a security system installed. I’ll call someone.”
“I can pay for it,” I said.
He smirked. “I know. You’re not the Clarissa from seven years ago.”
“She died,” I said quietly.
We sat on the couch, stretching for a moment. Then Dante leaned forward.
“I’ve seen women come out of bad marriages. But you—you’re doing it with fire. That takes guts.”
I cracked a smile. “It’s called being tired.”
He chuckled. “Tired looks good on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
- Writer
