Chapter 1
Kennedy
The lights from the city below flickered like stars trapped in glass. The penthouse buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of wealth and power. I stood near the bar, feeling the smooth surface of the counter beneath my palm, but Gary Delgado’s grip on my wrist turned that comfort into a vice.
His charming smile beamed for the cameras, all glitz and glamour, but his breath grazed my ear like a cold draft.
“You’re drinking water tonight. We don’t want another mistake, do we?”
“I didn’t mean?—”
He snapped, his tone sharp as broken glass. “You belittled me in front of my teammates.”
“I didn’t,” I replied, forcing my voice steady despite the way my heart raced. “I said you were the oldest defenseman after they traded Fowler. That’s a compliment.”
His laughter sounded hollow. “Out of all the ways you could have said it… do you not know how it came out? Don’t act stupid. Next time, if you can’t figure out how to talk, fucking keep your mouth shut.”
I clenched my teeth, fighting back the tide of tears that threatened to spill over. This was not how I envisioned the night going when I stepped into this party—a dazzling afterparty with athletes and their perfect companions—but now it felt like quicksand.
“Are you fucking crying? You get to be a victim after you attack me? Fix your face. You will not embarrass me again.”
The heat rose in my cheeks as I inhaled slowly through my nose. I took another breath to ground myself, willing away the pressure building behind my eyes.
Around us, conversations flowed freely; laughter mingled with clinking ice in crystal glasses while photographers captured moments of joy and celebration. Yet here I stood in a spotlight of shame and fear, suffocated by expectations and unspoken rules.
Gary leaned closer, his grip tightening just enough to remind me he had control—over this moment and perhaps over me.
“You understand?” he murmured.
I nodded slightly, though it felt like betrayal. The laughter faded into background noise as reality closed in around me.
I slipped away from the bar, the laughter and chatter fading behind me like a distant memory. The restroom offered a moment of refuge, its cool marble floors a stark contrast to the heated exchange I had just endured. I leaned against the sink, taking a breath as I faced my reflection.
My long hair cascaded in soft waves over my shoulders, framing a face that felt foreign. The makeup, perfectly applied earlier, now appeared smudged around my eyes. I swiped at the corner of my eyeliner, willing the evidence of Gary’s grip to disappear. My dress hugged my curves—a deep emerald green that shimmered under the fluorescent lights, making me feel beautiful and yet trapped. The satin fabric clung to me like expectations; flattering but confining.
I studied myself closely, searching for signs of the good girl everyone knew—the one who always followed the rules.
But lately, those rules felt like chains. No more late nights with friends; no talking to men unless Gary was present; no life beyond him. Each day passed with an invisible weight pressing down on my chest.
The vows we spoke echoed in my mind—saving myself for marriage, something he insisted upon with fervor. Back then, I thought it was noble; something that would bind us closer together. But standing here now, staring into my own eyes, uncertainty churned in my stomach.
“Is this really what you want?” I whispered to myself, voice barely audible over the hum of the lights. The truth danced just out of reach—frustration mixing with confusion about who I had become in his world.
The door swung open behind me, and a couple of women strolled in, giggling and chatting as they adjusted their hair and makeup. Their carefree banter sliced through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.
I forced a smile for them—one that didn’t quite reach my eyes—and stepped back from the sink as they took their places at the mirrors. A familiar tightening crept into my chest again; I should have been out there enjoying life with friends instead of feeling like a ghost at my own engagement party.
“Love your dress!” one of them said brightly as she flicked her hair over her shoulder.
“Thanks,” I replied automatically, but even that felt rehearsed—just another role I played too well. "You too!"
As they laughed and chatted among themselves, I caught a glimpse of freedom in their joy—so different from the suffocating expectations waiting for me outside this hideout.
I stepped out of the bathroom, drawing in a deep breath.
I could do this.
I could get through this.
