Mansion

Irene Jones POV

“No thanks.” I stared him down, heat crawling up my chest. How the fuck could he dare congratulate me—now, of all times? Screw the whole Myers family. Screw the Jones family too.

“We’re going. I need to take you to the Myers mansion.” He snatched the papers from my hands as if the right belonged to him.

Somehow, he managed to be both polite and rude at once—probably because even he knew I was nothing but a substitute.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going back to my apartment.”

He started to reply, but I turned and walked away before he could speak. Life couldn’t be this cruel. I needed air, needed space. Trapped in this marriage or not, I wasn’t chaining myself to the Myers estate. I’d already fought my way out of the Jones mess for a sliver of freedom in my own apartment, and only my dead body was going back into that cage.

Sometimes I wondered—if my mom hadn’t married Leo Jones, would it have changed anything? Who was I kidding? She would’ve treated me like a mistake either way. At eight, I still hoped things might get better. By twenty-one, I knew exactly how bad they could get.

My breathing grew ragged. I had no money on me, and walking through the streets in a wedding dress wasn’t exactly subtle.

Can’t life go a bit easy on me? Why does it always have to go from bad to worse?

Time blurred. I didn’t know how long I walked—how many glances I ignored, how many cold stares I swallowed. By the time my building came into view, my legs throbbed and my heels had nearly shredded my feet. I dragged myself up the steps, each breath a fight, and finally reached my door.

Home. The only place that still belonged to me.

With a shaky hand, I turned the key and stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me.

A breath escaped my lungs—something close to calm, something almost like freedom. The walls welcomed me in a way people never did, bare and cracked in places, the faint scent of old wood and cheap detergent clinging to the air. But it was mine.

I kicked off the heels, toes wincing at the cool floor. The wedding dress—filthy, wrinkled, stained—hung off me like a cruel joke. For a second, I just stood there, staring at the cracked mirror above the sink.

A stranger stared back.

Eyes smudged with makeup. Hair frizzed and damp from the humidity. Shoulders slumped under the weight of things I hadn’t asked for.

How did it come to this? How did I let them corner me like this?

My cheek still burned from the slap I’d taken earlier. I tugged at the zipper, but it jammed halfway. Frustration tore through me. I yanked harder, the fabric giving way with a sharp rip.

A sob clawed at my throat, but I forced it down. Piece by piece, I stripped the dress off, the satin collapsing to the floor in a heap of dirt and mockery.

I dug through the drawers until I found an old sweatshirt, worn soft from a hundred washes, and pulled it over my head. Familiar. Safe. My knees buckled before I made it to the couch. I sat heavily, arms locked around my ribs, rocking without meaning to. The silence buzzed in my ears.

Married. Married to a Myers.

My throat tightened until every breath scraped like glass. Get it together, Irene.

I tried to force myself to focus, but the tears burned and refused to back down. No one was coming to save me. No one ever had. How could I expect anything different now?

What hurt more was how easily I’d let Cyril corner me, how he acted like he could do whatever he wanted. The way he touched me... humiliation bled deeper than this marriage ever could. How was I supposed to handle any of this?

My husband—Theodore Myers—was nowhere to be found. And if Leo Jones heard about it, he’d blame me without hesitation. My mother would too.

Ding!!

The sharp ring of the doorbell jolted me upright. Who the hell was here now?

“Anyone inside?” The voice didn’t sound familiar, but I dragged my exhausted body to the door and opened it. The building might have been old, but it was safe—or so I thought.

My eyes widened at the sight of several men in black standing in the hallway. “What—”

Before I could finish, they pushed in, moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine, ignoring me as if I were invisible.

“Who are you?” My voice shook, laced with fear and anger.

They didn’t answer.

I stumbled back, breath shallow, muscles screaming to run while my feet refused to obey. “Are you deaf, or just stupid?” I demanded, forcing my tone to sound steadier than I felt.

One of them finally spoke. “We’re here to take your belongings. You’re moving to the Myers mansion.”

Cold spread through my veins. I knew the Myers family had power and reach, but this soon? I had barely made it home, night already swallowing the city, and here they were—dismantling the last bit of freedom I had.

“Leave. All of you. I’ll call the police. I’m not going anywhere, and my things aren’t moving an inch.” I warned.

“Go ahead. Call them.”