A knock sounds at the door. That’ll be Sheila. She said she’d meet me at lunchtime to take me shopping. We’ll be picking up the dress I’m wearing tonight and trying to find shoes to match. I couldn’t find anything I liked the other day when we went out. But I think it was because I wasn’t really in the mood.
“I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Sure. Be strong, Isla. You’ve got this.”
Although I feel drained and like strength is the furthest thing from me, I appreciate her belief in me. “Thanks.”
We hang up, and I call out for Sheila to come in.
She walks in with a bright smile and a clothes bag draped over her arm. I stand and set my phone down, my gaze flicking to the bag.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“There’s been a change of plans.” Sheila’s smile widens as she lifts the bag a little higher. “We’re not going shopping anymore.”
I blink. “Aren’t we?”
“No.” Her voice brims with excitement. “Knox sent this over. His personal shopper took care of your dress. It’s absolutely stunning.”
My stomach knots.Knox picked out a dress for me.
For a moment, I just stare at her. Then the realization sinks in and fury unfurls in my gut.
“What about the dress I picked?”
“Well, Knox thought…” She pauses, and that beat of silence tells me everything I already suspected.
He’s exerting control again.
“He thought this would be better. Something more suitable for the occasion and the venue. Have a look at it.”
She lifts a gorgeous black gown from the bag, and the tiny diamantes scattered over the skirt catches the light like stars. It’s beautiful. I’d look like a princess wearing it.
Hisprincess.
There was nothing wrong with the gown I chose. It was a navy gown that reminded me of something you’d wear to the Oscars. Knox obviously thought it wasn’t suitable.
I stare at the gown in Sheila’s hands, taking in the way it glimmers—a beautiful leash disguised as luxury.
Knox decides where I go. Whom I speak to. What I wear. How the world sees me.
Then the perfect idea hits me.
Start small.
With the forfeiture clause, I could start small.
What I need isn’t some grand, dramatic plan. It’s something slower. Smaller.
One unraveling at a time.
That’s how you drive a man like Knox Vale crazy.
And I’ll start with this dress.
The one he chose for me.
The one I won’t wear.
