004

NOELLE

        Months have blurred into one long, suffocating night. The room no longer feels like a prison, it is one.

The four-poster bed has become my entire world. Black silk sheets that smell faintly of his cologne even after they're changed, pillows that never quite muffle my sobs, and a headboard with scratches from where my bound wrists have scraped during the nights he decides gentleness is no longer necessary.

I lie on my side now, knees drawn to my chest, my skin still flushed and damp from what just happened. Haden’s already pulling out of me, as if he's savoring the evidence of his claim.

He exhales through his nose, a sound that mirrors his disgust.

"Disappointing," he murmurs. Then he rolls off the bed in one fluid motion, not even glancing back at me. "Months, Noelle. Months of this, and still nothing."

I don't answer. I can't. My throat is too tight, my chest too hollow.

Haden stands at the foot of the bed, naked and unashamed.

"Our wedding is in three weeks," he continues. "The dress has been fitted, the invitations sent. The families are expecting an heir soon after. There's supposed to be proof that the alliance is sealed." He tilts his head. "You're running out of time to convince me you're worth keeping."

I curl tighter into myself, pulling the sheet up over my nakedness even though he's seen every inch of me a hundred times.

I keep asking myself why he’s desperate to get me pregnant before the wedding. But I can’t figure it out.

He turns toward the wardrobe and begins dressing with the same elegance he always does. Black trousers. Crisp white shirt.

I glance at the nightstand. He hasn’t left me money like he usually does. I’ve been saving up, planning my escape, even though I know it’s useless to try.

Haden is powerful enough to have control over the entire city. I suspect he’s a mafia boss.

My voice is small and hoarse when I speak. "Can I... have the usual?"

He pauses, his fingers halting on the second button of his shirt.

"The usual," he repeats. Then he lets out a soft laugh. "No."

I lift my head just enough to see his profile. "But you said—"

"I said you would be taken care of." He finishes buttoning the shirt. "And you will be. Once you give me what I want." His dark eyes finally meet mine in the mirror across the room. "No money until you conceive. No phone. No trips into the city. No little freedoms you think I don't notice you bargaining for."

My stomach drops.

He doesn't know.

He can't know about the tiny packet of morning-after pills I've been hiding. The ones I risked my life to get during my first pathetic escape.

Every time he finishes inside me, every time he watches my stomach with that possessive hunger, I feel a twisted feeling of triumph.

But the triumph never lasts.

Because he always comes back.

And I'm still here.

He slips on his suit jacket and adjusts the cuffs.

"When I return tonight," he says without looking at me, "I expect you bathed, perfumed, and waiting on your knees. No tears. No sulking. You've had long enough to grieve whatever fantasy you built with Lakewood. It's time to accept reality."

He walks to the door and pauses with his hand on the knob.

"Three weeks, Noelle," he says. "If there's no child by the wedding night, I'll have no choice but to reevaluate our arrangement."

It's a threat. No child means death.

And at this point, I'm willing to die.

....

Today's my wedding day. It still feels like I'm stuck in a bad dream. And no matter how hard I try, I can't wake up. I can barely recognize myself in the mirror under all that makeup.

My adopted mother stands behind me, her hands fluttering over me as the stylist finishes lacing up my corset.

I've never seen her look this happy.

"Oh, Noelle," she breathes, pressing her palms to her cheeks. "You look like a dream. So elegant. So... radiant."

I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror and want to vomit.

My body looks wrong. The pills I've been taking for months have done their job in the cruelest way. My thighs press together thick and heavy under the skirt.

My breasts strain against the corset, spilling slightly over the sweetheart neckline in a way that makes me want to claw them off. I hate them.

I miss being able to vanish easily.

My stomach churns painfully. I press a hand to my abdomen, feeling the faint swell there. Nausea rolls through me in hot waves. I've missed two periods.

The timing fits too perfectly with the nights he's been relentless. What if the pills failed? What if one slipped through? What if I'm already carrying his child?

The thought makes bile rise so fast I have to swallow hard to keep it down.

I want to punish myself. I want to dig my nails into my thighs until they bleed.

The door opens, and Eleanor walks in with Alex latched to her. They are both smiling brightly, mocking me even without speaking.

Eleanor smiles sweetly, tilting her head. "You clean up nice, Dumpster."

The old nickname feels like a slap to the face. I flinch.

Alex moves closer, his eyes raking over me in the dress. "She does," he agrees. "Almost makes me regret not finishing what we started."

My hands curl into fists behind my back so hard my nails draw blood.

"You're doing the right thing, Noelle." At the sound of my father's gruff voice, I look up and see him standing by the doorway, dressed in a formal black suit.

"This marriage secures everything. Your sister's future. The family's debts. You've finally stopped being selfish," he continues.

I want to laugh and scream until I can no longer make a sound. How did I get so unlucky?

Slowly, I look around me, seeing their smiling faces. How is it that they are the ones who are happy, and not the bride?

Hate surges up my throat, painting my heart black. I have never felt such a strong urge to take everyone down with me until now.

This wedding is for them, not me.

I can't do this. I won't.

The stylist steps out to fetch more pins. The door is ajar for half a second.

I move before I think.

I shove past Alex, hard, my shoulder slamming into his chest. He stumbles. Eleanor shrieks. Mother gasps. Father bellows my name.

I run.

Barefoot under the heavy skirt with my veil tearing loose, I sprint down the corridor. The corset bites into my ribs, my thighs chafe, and my breasts bounce painfully with every step, but I don't stop. I dodge a startled maid, duck under an outstretched arm, and slam through a service door.

Downstairs. Through the kitchens. Out the back exit where delivery vans park.

Cold air hits my face, stone biting into my soles. I sprint across the lawn towards the tree line, my veil streaming behind me like a ghost.

Shouts rise behind me. I can tell they are all in shock. But I don’t feel sorry.

I must get away at all costs. I can’t let Haden find me. If he does, it’s over.

So, I don't look back.

I burst through the hedge maze gate, my lungs burning while my legs shake.

Then I collide with full force into a hard chest. For a split second, I’m terrified that my worst fear has finally happened. So, I fight, pulling my knee towards his groin, only to freeze when I hear him speak.

“Angel?”

The air vanishes from my lungs as my brain registers the familiar baritone, my heart hammering. It can’t be.

There’s no way he’s suddenly here.

But then I look up, my gaze colliding with a pair of sparkling blue eyes. My knees buckle, a gasp slipping from my lips as his name tumbles out of my mouth.

“Azren.”