Melinda’s POV
My heart pounded hard, thudding against my ribs. The weight of betrayal sat heavy in my gut, making me feel sick. Every breath felt shallow, like even the air was filled with disappointment.
My life was falling apart. My heart raced. My hands shook on the wheel, but I kept them there tight, my knuckles turned white. I hadn’t stopped crying since I left .
My vision blurred as the city lights bled into each other, streaks of gold and red running like wet paint. I blinked hard but the tears kept coming, hot and steady. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be but the ache in my chest said otherwise. This was a bloody nightmare.
What was I going to do?
It had been over thirty minutes since I walked out of Andrew’s office, and I still had no idea where I was going. I didn’t need a destination. Not yet. Just movement.
I needed to feel like I was putting distance between myself and the mess behind me. Only the engine kept going, filling the empty space Andrew and Vanessa had cut out of me.
The Los Angeles skyline blurred through the windshield. The lights flickered as I drove past. Horns blared in the distance but I didn’t hear them not really. I only heard the echo of his voice. The fabric of my world tearing at the seams.
And the dress I wore the same silly white thing I put on every anniversary was now a cruel joke. White. A color for innocence.A color for fools. For funerals. It clung to my skin, damp with sweat, sticking to me like regret.
I should’ve torn it off and burned it the second I walked out of that building. Vanessa’s body tangled with Andrew’s flashed behind my eyes again and again like a horror reel stuck on loop. No matter how hard I blinked, it kept playing. Too loud. Too clear.
What shattered me most wasn’t Andrew it was Vanessa. My own sister. Of all people, it was her. I used to think blood meant something, that she’d always have my back. But now I see her clearly.
She’s been reaching for what’s mine since we were kids. The boys, the attention ,they never wanted her. Not really. They came to her just to get closer to me. And I think..
Maybe that’s what broke her. Or maybe she was always like this. I just refused to see it.
My phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Again.
Andrew.
His name lit up the screen, bright and smug. I silenced it without even glancing fully. He didn’t get access to me anymore. Not with excuses. Not with fake remorse. Not with that voice that used to make me feel safe.
I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew one thing for sure I wasn’t going home besides that, the house wasn’t mine anymore. Not really. It hadn’t been for a long time.
We built it together brick by brick, side by side. Fresh out of school, full of dreams and blueprints.
Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped being a partner. I’d become a background fixture. A tool. A name he used when it suited him. A name he could ruin when it didn’t.
He thought I’d fold. Collapse into tears and wait for him to explain it away like he always did. But Andrew didn’t know me anymore.
Maybe he never really did.
The city roared around me, full of strangers and steel and neon promises. I drove south, leaving everything I knew behind. My thoughts raced, faster than the wheels under me. But in all that noise, one thing started to make sense.
I needed out.
Not just out of the house or the firm. Out of this entire existence.
Out of the life where I lived beneath Andrew’s shadow. Where my talent was measured only by how well it propped up his ego. Where my silence was a duty and my loyalty a weapon turned against me.
I passed Culver City. Then Inglewood. The freeway signs stretched across the sky like fate whispering options.
Bakersfield. Barstow. Las Vegas.
Vegas.
I hadn’t thought about it in years. Not since our honeymoon back when Andrew still looked at me like I mattered. When I still believed in forever.
The city had felt like freedom then, pulsing with life, wild and unstructured. Neon lights. Endless possibilities. A reset button disguised in chaos.
Maybe that’s what I needed now.
A new name. A new state. A version of me untouched by him.
I tapped my fingers on the wheel as the idea took root. Vegas wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. It was a real option. A plan.
I wouldn’t take anything he could use against me. Not the car. Not the house. Not the furniture we picked out together while pretending we were happy. I’d vanish clean. Quiet. Careful.
Before making any move , I had to protect what mattered to me.
I pulled off the freeway and into a dimly lit gas station. I killed the engine. The silence that followed was thick like it was waiting for something. But this time, it didn’t break me. It steadied me.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the flash drive I’d hidden behind an old photo strip. A backup of every design I’d ever created. Projects Andrew had taken credit for. Ideas I brought to life that he presented as his own. Time stamped. Tracked.Untouchable. They were mine. The receipts he didn’t know I had.
I pulled out my notebook next and started writing.
Checklist:
1.Call my lawyer the one I met through a client, not the one we both used. Discreet. Brutal.
2.Freeze all joint accounts.
3.Transfer my shares from the firm quietly, legally, permanently.
4.Change my number.
5.Disappear.
I stared at the list. Then added one more.
6. Come back stronger.
Because I would and when I did, I wouldn’t be the woman who wore white dresses and waited to be chosen. I’d be the woman who rebuilt herself from scorched earth and didn’t ask for permission.
My phone buzzed again.
Vanessa.
Of course.
I didn’t open it. I blocked her number.
They thought they’d broken me. That I’d seen the pictures, heard the voices, and disappeared like some wounded bird.
They didn’t know I hadn’t run.
I was just getting started and they were going to regret ever crossing me .
I turned the key, started the car, and rolled back onto the highway. I wasn’t ready to hit Vegas yet. Tonight, I needed sleep. A cheap motel. A quiet room with a lock. Tomorrow would come fast and I’d need a clear head.
The woman Andrew married was gone.
The woman replacing her?
She didn’t want revenge.
She wanted legacy.
And she was ready to fight for it.
Morning came too soon, sunlight spilling across Melinda’s face like a cruel reminder that nothing was as it seemed.James was already dressed, buttoning his crisp white shirt in front of the mirror. His reflection caught her eye, and for a moment, she simply watched him carefully, cautiously.The man who had once made her feel safe now seemed wrapped in questions she hadn’t dared ask.“You slept like a rock,” James said, his voice warm and teasing as he adjusted his cufflinks. “Did you even hear the thunder last night?”She gave him a faint smile. “Didn’t notice.”He leaned over, kissed her forehead, then her lips. “I’ll be late tonight. Board meeting with the East Coast investors. You remember Thomas, right?”She nodded slowly, committing the name to memory. “Of course.”He kissed her once more before leaving, and as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence roared to life. She waited ten minutes long enough for him to get into the elevator and drive off before grabbing her bag a
Melinda stood in front of the nondescript address the message had led her to an old warehouse tucked behind the rusted edge of the city’s forgotten district. No cameras, no streetlights, and no witnesses.She checked her phone again.8:03 PM.Another message blinked on screen."You're late. Come to the back entrance. Alone."She swallowed hard and pulled her coat tighter around her. The darkness behind the building felt alive, the kind that clung to your skin and whispered threats in your ear. But she kept going. She had to.When she rounded the corner, a figure emerged from the shadows hooded, tall, male. But he didn’t move like someone who wanted to hurt her. He moved like someone who had been waiting.“You came,” he said.His voice was muffled but familiar. Her hand tightened around the pepper spray in her pocket, just in case.“Who are you?” she asked, keeping her distance.The man pulled his hood back slowly, revealing a face she hadn’t seen in years. Her knees nearly buckled.“N
The echoes of the gala still clung to the inside of Melinda’s skull like an expensive perfume that wouldn’t fade. She sat in James’s penthouse now barefoot, her dress discarded on the chaise, wrapped in a silk robe. The city stretched out beneath her, glittering like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just exposed years of pain with a few razor-edged sentences.James stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped low around his waist. “You didn’t have to say all that,” he said, not accusing just observing.Melinda looked at him from the balcony seat. “Maybe not. But I wanted to.”He approached her slowly, water glistening on his chest. “You burned Andrew alive in front of everyone. His reputation won’t recover.”She gave a half smile. “Good.”James studied her. “You’re dangerous.”Melinda tilted her head, gaze sharp. “And you like that.”A small smile curved his lips. “I do.”But beneath the charged silence, something in James’s eyes had shifted. Subtle. Flickering. As though her words
The mansion buzzed with preparations.Stylists flitted through the halls like butterflies, carrying fabric swatches and makeup kits. A tailor adjusted the hem of James’s tuxedo, while Melinda sat still under a soft spotlight, her long black gown being fitted by a luxury designer flown in from Milan.Tonight was the gala.Tonight, they would face their ghosts in gowns and tuxedos.“You look like vengeance in silk,” James murmured as he walked into her dressing room, his voice low, eyes hooded.Melinda turned slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror. “Good. That’s the vibe.”He smirked, but there was pride in his gaze. “We’re going to own tonight.”She rose to her feet. The dress clung to her body like it had been poured over her. Off-shoulder, slit high, black as midnight. Paired with ruby lips and a diamond choker, she looked… expensive. Unreachable.The car ride to the gala was silent not uncomfortable, just simmering with electricity.James didn’t hold her hand this time.He
Melinda stood in front of the tall mirror, her fingers tugging nervously at the silk collar of her blouse. The courthouse was quiet that morning, almost eerily so. The sun filtered through the high windows like a silent witness to the union about to take place not one forged in love, but necessity, secrecy… and the ache of unspoken history.James stood beside her, impeccably dressed in a dark charcoal suit that hugged his form with authority. His tie was perfectly knotted, his face unreadable. But his eyes those sharp grey eyes flicked toward her every few seconds, as though trying to gauge what lay behind her practiced calm.The marriage certificate lay between them on the mahogany table, crisp and accusing.“This isn’t a real marriage,” Melinda said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s for the twins, for the public, for”“For protection,” James finished, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m not asking for love, Melinda. I’m asking for loyalty. For a united front.”The pen felt h
But an older man, silver-haired, sharp-eyed, seated behind a mahogany desk. His tailored suit was pristine, and he radiated the kind of authority that made the room feel colder.“Ms. Jameson,” he said, standing with a practiced smile. “A pleasure.”“Thank you for having me,” she said, voice even despite the discomfort prickling under her skin.“I’ve read your work impressive. We’re expanding our image and branding department. Our clientele list includes politicians, philanthropists… and high-profile business figures. We need someone discreet. Creative. Meticulous.”Melinda’s mouth went dry. Something told her this wasn’t just another gig.He pushed a folder across the table. “You come highly recommended.”She opened it and nearly choked.There, staring up at her in high definition, was a photo of James Locke.Alongside it: a press release draft about a potential run for state governor.Her stomach plummeted.“I’m sorry what is this?”“James is considering stepping into politics. The L