Page 22 of Entrapped
“What do you want, Simone?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She shrugged, pushing off the banister and sauntering toward me. “Just curious. It’s not like you to leave without telling Daddy.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Daddy? You’re a fucking adult,” I hissed.
She laughed, a cold, sharp sound that echoed in the foyer. “Touchy, touchy. What’s wrong, Josephine? Did Daddy scold you for being a naughty little wife?”
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “You’re drunk. Go back to bed.”
Simone’s smile widened, and she stepped closer, her breath reeking of alcohol. “You know, for someone who married into this family, you act like you belong here. But you don’t. You’re just a pretty face Daddy picked up because he was bored.”
“Get out of my way,” I said through gritted teeth, my patience wearing thin.
But Simone didn’t move. Instead, she leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? But we all know the truth. You’re just another one of Daddy’s toys. And when he’s done with you, you’ll be tossed aside like the rest.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to lash out, to slap that smug expression off her face, but I knew better. That’s what she wanted—to provoke me, to make me lose control.
Instead, I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “At least I’m not a spoiled little girl who can’t even clean up after herself. You’re pathetic, Simone. And one day, Colson will realize that too.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I thought she might strike me. But then she laughed again, the sound hollow and bitter. “We’ll see about that.”
I stepped around her and opened the door, the cool night air hitting my face like a slap. I didn’t look back as I walked out, slamming the door behind me. I needed to get away, to clear my head before I did something I’d regret. I walked the long drive down to the bottom. I was sure Colson would check the cameras eventually and see I had left.
The streets were quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog. I walked aimlessly, letting the cool air calm my nerves. But no matter how far I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped, of being suffocated by the life I had chosen.
I found myself at the entrance of a small park I used to visit when I was younger, the path dimly lit by street lamps. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to enter, drawn by the solitude it offered. The park was empty, the trees casting long shadows on the ground. I sat on a bench, staring up at the sky, trying to find some semblance of peace.
But peace was elusive, slipping through my fingers like sand. My thoughts kept circling back to Colson, to Simone, to the mess I was entangled in. I had become someone I didn’t recognize—a woman surrounded by people who wanted to see me fall.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, lost in thought, when I heard footsteps approaching. I tensed, my hand instinctively reaching for my phone. But when I looked up, I saw a familiar figure standing a few feet away.
“Joey.”
Vaughn’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he should be here. He looked different in the dim light—softer, less guarded. For a moment, I just stared at him, too surprised to speak.
“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to ask.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, moving closer. “It’s late.”
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I needed to clear my head.”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “Me too.”
Silence hung between us, heavy with unspoken words. I knew I should leave, but something kept me rooted to the spot, something in the way Vaughn was looking at me.
“Josephine,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You don’t have to stay with him. You know that, right?”
I looked away, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “It’s not that simple. We’ve been over this.”
“It is,” he insisted, his hand reaching out to touch mine. “You deserve better than this. Better than him.”
His touch was warm, comforting, and I found myself leaning into it, craving the warmth, the kindness I so rarely received. But then I remembered who I was, where I was, and I pulled back, shaking my head.
“I can’t,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m trapped, Vaughn. I’m trapped in this life, in this marriage. There’s no way out.”
“There is,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto mine. “You just have to take it.”
I met his gaze, seeing the determination in his eyes, the belief that I could be free. For a moment, I let myself imagine it—freedom, a life without Colson, without the weight of his control. But leaving my family to fend for themselves was not an option. There were no options other than to stay.
