I stare into his sage green eyes, trying to search for any emotion—but he’s devoid of them. Does he care about what he did to me? How he hurt me?
“No. I’m not getting in the car with you,” I snarl.
He exhales through his teeth. “We need to talk about this. I’m not going to ask you again—get in the car.”
Sighing, I obey as I slide into the seat, strapping my seatbelt over my body.
The silence between us is deafening. The tension between us is thick. Sharp. Suffocating.
“Why did you do it?” I stammer.
He tilts his head to the side, predatory, but his eyes are dead. He digs his nails into the steering wheel.
“You are mine. I told you last year I was going to find a way to marry you.” His words are sharp knives.
I bury my nails into the leather seat until they ache. I swallow deep breaths. I recite in my mind:I’m okay.
I’m okay.
I’m okay.
“Did you freeze my bank account?”
He rubs the back of his head. “Yes.”
I want to puke.
“Why? How could you? Unfreeze my accounts and let me go.Please,” I beg.
He doesn’t respond. I can’t reason with him, no matter how much I beg.
We pull up to my condo. He kills the engine and stares into my eyes. He tries to cup my face, but I pull away. He’s completely broken my trust.
“Was any of it real? Were your feelings real, Irvin? Or was I one of your pawns? The dates? Nurturing me? Labeling me as your girlfriend—was it part of your plan?”
He doesn’t respond for several seconds. “It was real. I want you. It had nothing to do with tricking you into marriage. I took care of you because I care about you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. You made up a fucking lie—that you’re engaged to someone else. You played with my emotions to get what you want. You manipulated me.” The hole in my chest grows like a weed. “You took away my freedom and choices. That’s not love, Irvin. You don’t know what love is.” I sigh. “Please, just unfreeze my accounts. I want a divorce.”
His face is flat. No emotion or spark in his eyes.
“No. We can’t simply get a divorce.”
I shake my head. “Why not?”
“The board members have an absolute law. No divorces.”
“What happens if we get a divorce?”
He grabs my hand, squeezes tight. “We will both be sent to Tartarus and face execution.”
I deck him. Hard. My fingers throb.
He doesn’t flinch—but wipes the tears from my eyes.
I should have trusted my gut, but I was too desperate for his help to solve a problem he created.
Tears spill harder. Everything I worked hard for is going up in smoke—my secret identity; the life I built is on quicksand.
