Page 72 of Bride on the Dotted Line

I have no anger, no despair left.

Just exhaustion.

My endless campaign for Victor’s approval, the constant bending to his demands. Always putting the company above everything else has hollowed me out. For years, I’ve let him dictate my life, trying to live up to his impossible standards, but the last month and a half has shifted the bedrock in me.

Sienna has shown me what it means to make a choice.

I square my shoulders, pulling myself to my full height, and turn around. Victor looks up at me from behind his desk.

“Are you ready to work, Son?”

Mustering everything I have, I shake my head. “Call me a fool, Dad, or ungrateful. I won’t give up the one person who makes me feel like I’m worth something.”

He glowers at me, but there’s surprise in the set of his mouth. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by cold fury.

“Then you leave me no choice.” He pulls the stack of papers toward him, dipping his quill into its inkwell. “If you don’t end the marriage, you’re out. Out of the company, out of the family business. You’ll never see the inside of Harwood Restaurant Group again.” Poising his quill over a page covered in tiny text—probably the Transfer Agreement we’ve been working on—he says, “Do you understand?”

I’ve never felt like this before. My heart is on the outside, exposed to the burning, quivering, thrilling world for the first time. It’s scary. It’s exhilarating.

I’ve been chasing something that was never meant to be mine.

I say in a steady, even voice, “Good. I’m done.”

Victor’s eyes widen. For all his threats, he never thought I’d say something like that. He jumps to his feet, slapping his palms on the surface of his desk.

“Don’t youdare…” His inkwell overturns, ink bleeding across the Transfer Agreement he hurriedly pushes aside. “Nicholas, if you …”

I stand for a moment, watching my father struggle to set his desk to rights again, ink staining his fingers. Then I smile and turn on my heel.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Digging in my pocket, I pull out my phone and tap the first name that comes up in my messages. I don’t look back.

“I’m going to get my girl,” I say.

Chapter 22

Sienna

1 Missed Call from Nick

2 Missed Calls from Nick

Nick, 9:47AM

Sienna, I don’t know what my dad told you, but don’t listen.

Where are you?

I’m coming to get you.

I stare at the notifications, a sweater clutched in both hands as I stand over my open suitcase. It would be cruel not to reply. I should text back and tell him I’m fine.

I’m not fine.

Clothes scatter the floor around me. Not the fluffy, now-familiar carpet of Nick’s guest room, but the weathered hardwood of my basement suite. I’m standing by my double bed, trying to find the motivation to put clothes into my empty closet. It took me less than two hours to pack up my life at Nick’s and bring it home to Mrs. Martin’s house.

I wasn’t reallyinNick’s life. Not in any real way.

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