CHAPTER FOUR

ARIANNA

“It was good seeing you stand up to your father today, Rihanna,” Evan drawled from the top of the stairs, loosening his tie like he hadn’t just blown up my entire life and claimed the wreckage.

I didn’t respond. My gaze wandered across the sleek marble floors of his mansion, it was too polished and too cold.

“So…” I cleared my throat. “When do I leave? We can head to the courthouse in the morning and get this annulled. I already have my passport ready. Flights’s booked. I’m leaving the country tomorrow.”

Despite my conversation with him, Evan didn’t even look at me. He just yawned and stretched like I hadn’t said a word.

“We can all agree that today's been long enough. Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

That was it. No directions. No discussion. Just that.

I opened my mouth to ask where I was supposed to sleep, but the words caught in my throat as he started walking away.

“The maids will show you to a guest room,” he said over his shoulder, halfway up the stairs.

I blinked. Had I said that out loud?

“Thank you,” I mouthed quietly, feeling smaller than ever beneath his shadow.

However, I didn’t sleep. My phone kept buzzing, pinging with messages I couldn’t bear to read.

Everyone had something to say. But I had nothing left to give.

I thought about calling my mother, explaining everything—but I knew better. She’d be too busy trying to fix my father’s ego to listen.

Despite the size of the room, the luxury, the silence, I’d never felt more alone, not even when I found out about Landon.

But tonight, the silence screamed, as the betrayal echoed and the tears came freely.

Tomorrow, I promised myself, I will leave this behind.

****

However, by morning, I was exhausted but dressed in a simple blouse, jeans, and boots—ready to vanish.

Knock. Knock. I turned to the door.

“Who is it?” I asked, stepping closer.

“Mr. Evan says to call you down for breakfast,” a maid replied politely, head bowed.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I replied, and soon she disappeared. Then I glanced in the mirror and nodded once at my reflection, wearing a fake confidence, which was better than none.

As soon as I arrived downstairs, I expected Evan to be polished and impatient, ready to toss me aside and erase this whole thing.

Instead, he sat slouched in a chair, hair messy, barefoot, eating pancakes like a college dropout.

“We’re late because of you,” he mumbled between bites as I took the seat across from him.

I leaned in to speak quietly, “So about the annul—”

He dropped his fork. The sharp clang against the plate made me freeze.

“Ever heard the phrase Don’t talk while eating? It’s not just for fine dining etiquette. It’s common sense.”

I blinked, stunned. My words died on my lips, then he went back to eating like he hadn’t just scolded me like a schoolgirl.

So, I didn’t say another word. Then, the silence stretched thick and awkward as the room felt like a prison made of gold.

“Thanks for the meal,” I finally said when he finished. “We should go now. Though maybe you need a few minutes to shower and, you know, looking like someone society respects matters a lot.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Where are we going, exactly?”

I squinted. “Are you seriously asking? The annulment. The courthouse.”

Evan raised an eyebrow, amused. “Annulment? Whose marriage are we annulling? Your cheating exs?”

“Our marriage, Evan,” I snapped. “You helped me, and I’m grateful. But it’s over. Let’s end this officially.”

He stared at me, contemplative, before shrugging with a maddening calm.

“No.”

I blinked.

No?

Time stood still for a second.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re not getting an annulment.”

I gaped at him. “Okay… maybe a divorce, then? Is that what you’re suggesting? Because honestly, that process is longer and far more—”

Clink.

He sipped his coffee slowly, loudly, like he couldn’t care less.

“Who said anything about divorce?”

I stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

He motioned to the maid, who returned moments later carrying a slim briefcase. She handed it to him, and he placed a familiar document in front of me.

The marriage contract.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing. I obeyed, cautiously, and opened the pages.

“I already read this, Evan. It states clearly we’ll annul once the wedding is done.”

He pointed to a paragraph with a pen. “Keep reading.”

I scanned the lines.

Then my eyes landed on it.

“All contents of this contract are void unless Party A (Arianna Rane) provides Party B (Evan Gates) with an heir. Annulment or divorce cannot be initiated until such a condition is met.”

My hands trembled.

“No,” I said softly. “This… this can’t be right.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

“So, unless I give you a child, I’m trapped in this marriage?”

He nodded, unfazed.

Something inside me fractured.

I tried to laugh, but the sound refused to leave my throat, so my heart pounded like a war drum, and the walls started spinning.

“Why?” I croaked, barely breathing. Then, my hand knocked a glass off the table. It shattered, shards flying across the hardwood floor.