Chapter 3
1030 Words
I don’t remember walking away.
One second I was standing outside Amelia’s door, listening to everything I thought I knew about my life unravel, and the next I was back in my room, the door closed behind me, my back pressed against it like it was the only thing holding me upright.
My breathing was uneven, too fast, too shallow, like my body hadn’t quite caught up with what had just happened.
Daniel.
Amelia.
Their voices echoed in my head, louder than anything else.
“She was just the easiest way in.”
The words replayed over and over again, each time hitting harder than the last. A broken sound caught in my throat, but it didn’t turn into tears. It didn’t turn into anything.
I stayed there for a moment, staring at nothing, trying to force my thoughts into something that made sense.
But the truth was—
it did make sense.
That was the worst part.
Every look Amelia had given me. Every smirk I had brushed off. Every comment I had ignored.
She hadn’t been guessing.
She had known.
They both had.
And I had been the only one stupid enough not to see it.
My hand slid slowly down the door as I pushed myself upright, forcing my body to move even though it felt heavy, like I was dragging something behind me. I crossed the room without thinking, my legs unsteady, until I reached the bed and sat down hard.
The room felt too quiet.
Too still.
Like everything was waiting.
My mind replayed it again.
Every word.
Every pause.
“She won’t even realise what she’s signing.”
My stomach twisted.
Signing what?
My eyes flicked toward my desk, landing on my laptop. A memory surfaced almost instantly—Daniel sitting beside me, leaning in close as he scrolled through documents, explaining things in that calm, reassuring voice of his.
“It’s just standard paperwork.”
“Nothing to worry about.”
“I’ll handle it.”
My chest tightened sharply.
Of course he had.
Of course I had let him.
Because I trusted him.
Because I loved him.
Because I thought he loved me.
I swallowed hard, cutting the thought off before it could settle.
No.
Not anymore.
Slowly, I stood, forcing my body to steady itself. This time, my legs held. Not perfectly, but enough. Enough to keep moving.
I walked over to the desk, my movements slower now, more controlled. I didn’t rush. I didn’t panic. Panic would only make me careless, and careless was exactly what they were expecting from me.
I opened the laptop.
The screen lit up, casting a soft glow across the room. Everything looked the same. Normal. Untouched.
But I knew better now.
I clicked into the files Daniel had been helping me with. Contracts. Agreements. Documents I had barely looked at before because I trusted him to do it for me.
This time, I didn’t skim.
I read.
Carefully.
Line by line.
Word by word.
At first, nothing stood out. It all looked clean. Professional. Exactly how it should.
Then I slowed.
And I saw it.
It was small. Easy to miss. Buried in the middle of a paragraph that most people would glance over without a second thought.
Transfer of authority upon marriage.
My breath caught, but I didn’t freeze.
I leaned closer, reading the surrounding clauses, taking in every word, every implication.
There were more.
Subtle changes. Carefully placed conditions. Language designed to sound harmless but wasn’t.
If I signed this, Daniel wouldn’t just be my husband.
He would have control.
Access.
Power.
Over my company.
Over everything my mother had left me.
My grip tightened against the edge of the desk as the full weight of it settled in.
“They planned this,” I whispered.
Not recently.
Not impulsively.
This had taken time.
Planning.
Patience.
He had been building this quietly, piece by piece, while standing beside me, smiling at me, telling me he loved me.
A hollow, humourless laugh slipped from my lips.
“You really thought I wouldn’t see this.”
But even as I said it, the truth hit me just as quickly.
I wouldn’t have.
If I hadn’t heard them, if I had walked down that aisle tomorrow, I would have signed everything without a second thought.
I would have given it all to him.
Freely.
Blindly.
My chest tightened, but the feeling didn’t linger.
Because something else was replacing it.
Something colder.
Something sharper.
Something that didn’t feel like breaking.
It felt like control.
I closed the laptop slowly, deliberately, like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
They thought I didn’t know.
That was their biggest mistake.
And I was going to use it.
I turned toward my wardrobe and opened it, staring at the rows of dresses, shoes, and carefully chosen pieces that had once felt important.
Now, they felt meaningless.
I reached past them, pulling out something simple instead. Something practical. Something that didn’t belong to the version of me they thought they knew.
I changed quickly, my movements efficient and focused. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Once I was done, I grabbed a small bag and placed it on the bed.
Essentials only.
Nothing more.
I packed without overthinking it. A change of clothes. Money. Important documents. The basics.
Everything else could stay.
If they wanted it so badly—
they could have it.
For now.
When I finished, I zipped the bag closed and stood still for a moment, looking around the room.
At everything I was leaving behind.
At the life I thought I had.
At the girl who had believed in it.
She felt distant now.
Like someone I used to know.
I stepped in front of the mirror again, meeting my own reflection.
The same face looked back at me.
But not the same girl.
There was something different in her eyes now.
Something steady.
Something certain.
Tomorrow, they would be waiting.
For a bride.
For signatures.
For everything to go exactly as they planned.
I let out a slow breath, my voice quiet but unwavering.
“Tomorrow,” I said, staring at my reflection, “you lose everything.”
- Writer
