Page 27 of Entrapped
He looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s not a game, Josephine. It’s our life. Our future. I’m trying to change. To not be who I was before we married.”
“Our future,” I echoed, the words feeling hollow. “I wonder sometimes… what kind of future that really is.”
He turned back to me, his gaze hard. “What are you saying?”
I hesitated, unsure of where to go from here. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to demand from him. But Iknew Colson—knew his limits, knew the walls he’d built around himself. Pushing him too far would only push him away.
“I’m saying that I need more from you, Colson,” I finally said, my voice steady. “I need to know that I matter to you. Not just as your wife, but as a person. As someone you care about.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. His grip was strong, almost desperate, as if he was trying to communicate something he couldn’t put into words.
I closed my eyes, letting myself melt into his embrace, even as doubts gnawed at the edges of my mind. I wanted to believe that this was enough, that his silent apology was enough to make up for everything else. But deep down, I knew that the cycle would continue—business would always come first, and I would always be second. And one day, I might not be able to accept that anymore.
"Colson, I want a child."
I felt his body tense against mine, the warmth of our embrace turning cold in an instant. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was filled with a thick, suffocating silence.
"That was a non-negotiable," he finally said, his voice low and firm. "And you signed the prenuptial agreeing to it."
His words hit me like a slap, a harsh reminder of the iron-clad terms that had defined our marriage from the beginning. I had known about this clause, of course. Colson had made it clear that children were off the table—his life was too complicated,too filled with business and obligations to entertain the idea of raising another child.
At the time, I’d agreed, convincing myself that I could be content with the life he offered. But now, standing in front of him, I realized just how much that decision was costing me.
"I know what I agreed to," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "But people change. I’ve changed, Colson. I thought I could live with it, but… I want more. I want a family. Our family."
His eyes hardened, and he stepped back, putting more distance between us. "We have a family, Josephine. You, me, and the life we’ve built together. That was the agreement."
"An agreement made under different circumstances," I countered, feeling a surge of frustration. "We were practically strangers then, and I didn’t know what I was giving up. I didn’t know how much I would want this."
Colson's jaw clenched, and I could see the gears turning in his mind, calculating the risk, the implications of what I was asking. "This is not up for debate," he said sharply. "I have my reasons, and they haven't changed. I won't bring a child into this world only for them to become another pawn in the Ashworth legacy. You knew that."
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. "But what about what I want? Don’t I get a say in this marriage? Or is it all just about you and your rules?"
He crossed his arms, his stance defensive. "You knew the rules when you married me. I was clear from the beginning, Josephine. This isn't something I can compromise on."
The finality in his tone cut deep, and for a moment, I felt like I was suffocating. I turned away from him, walking toward the window to gather my thoughts. The rain was still pouring outside, a relentless downpour that mirrored the madness inside me.
"I thought… I thought maybe you’d change your mind," I said quietly, staring out at the gray landscape. "That maybe, once we got to know each other better, you’d want what I want. I guess I was wrong."
Colson was silent, and the tension in the room was palpable. I didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching me, analyzing the situation like it was just another business transaction. But this was different. This was personal—this was about my future, our future.
"I can't change who I am," he finally said, his voice softer now, almost regretful. "And I won’t make promises I can’t keep."
I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. This was it—the line in the sand. And now, I had to decide whether I could live with it.
Turning back to him, I met his gaze, my heart heavy with the weight of the decision before me. "And what if I can’t live with it, Colson? What then?"
His expression didn’t change, but I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—fear, perhaps, or maybe just uncertainty. "Then you’ll have to decide what matters most to you," he said quietly. "But know this—I won’t let you go easily, Josephine. You’re mine, and I don’t give up what’s mine. Remember your family."
His words were both a promise and a warning, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew he meant every word. Leaving Colson wouldn’t be simple or without consequences.But staying, knowing that my dreams of having a child would never come true… That was a different kind of prison.
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. "I need time," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Time to think."
Colson nodded, though his eyes remained locked on mine, as if trying to read the thoughts swirling in my head. "Take all the time you need," he said, but there was a tension in his voice that told me he wasn’t as calm as he wanted to appear.
" Josephine… some things can't be undone."
As he left the room, the door closing softly behind him, I was left alone with my thoughts, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a heavy burden. What mattered most to me? And was I willing to sacrifice everything else for it?
