CHAPTER Four

Brittney's Pov 

By the time morning came, I was already hollow.

I was just empty in a way that scared me more than fear ever had. Fear meant there was still something left to protect. This emptiness felt like surrender.

The door opened without warning.

Two guards stood outside, their faces were blank with weapons resting casually in their hands. They didn’t shout this time. They didn’t grab me or threaten me. They simply stepped aside, giving me space to walk out on my own.

They already knew I wouldn’t run.

I pushed myself off the bed slowly. Every muscle in my body aches from days of tension and sleepless nights. My cheek still throbbed faintly where I had been slapped for daring to escape. The pain had dulled, but the memory hadn’t.

The maid stood a few steps behind me.

She had been assigned to my room since that night. She watched me constantly, or at least that was what they claimed. She barely spoke, barely looked at me, but she brought my meals, changed the sheets, and made sure I didn’t hurt myself.

I never knew if she pitied me or reported me.

Maybe both.

They led me to the dressing room.

The wedding dress waited there, draped carefully over a chair like something sacred. It looked beautiful in a way that felt cruel.

The women moved around me efficiently, tightening the bodice, adjusting the sleeves, pulling my hair back. I didn’t resist, I didn’t cry I just sat there lifelessly.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me didn’t look like someone who is about to be married.

She looked like someone who is about to be buried.

My eyes were dull and my lips pale. Whatever fire I once had was gone. I had lost the strength to imagine another outcome.

When they finished, one of them stepped back and nodded. “It’s time.”

I stood up.

My legs felt weak, but they carried me forward anyway. The hallway stretched endlessly ahead of us, guards forming a tight circle around me.

As we reached the staircase, the maid suddenly stumbled.

She grabbed my arm to steady herself.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured quickly.

One of the guards turned sharply. “What is it?”

“She needs air,” the maid said, her voice rushed. “She looks like she might faint anytime soon.”

The guard frowned, studying my face. I didn’t lift my head nor did I tell them it was a lie. I let my shoulders sag slightly, let my breathing hitch.

After a moment, he waved his hand. “Be quick.”

The maid pulled me aside, her fingers tightening painfully around my wrist.

“Listen to me,” she whispered urgently. “I found a way to make you leave this place.”

My heart skipped violently.

“There’s a car in the parking lot,” she continued, her words tumbling out. “Black sedan with plate number KJX‑409. Get inside it. Don’t hesitate at all.”

My breath caught.

“The driver will take you to the airport,” she said. “From there, find your family. Leave the country. Don’t look back.”

My mind spun.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, my voice barely working.

Her eyes glistened with tears. “Because I couldn’t save myself,” she said quietly. “But maybe I can save you.”

Before I could say another word, she slipped a folded paper into my palm and stepped back, lowering her head as if nothing had happened.

“Move,” the guard barked.

I walked.

I prayed under my breath for an opportunity, any distraction that would let me reach the parking lot. 

Then, all at once, the guards’ phones rang. Every one of them. I didn’t think twice. I turned and moved fast, slipping away before anyone realized.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure if someone was beside me they could hear it well. Every step toward the parking lot felt like walking on a wire stretched over a cliff.

There were a lot of cars nearly lined.

I scanned the plates once.

Twice.

Then I saw it.

KJX‑409.

My pulse spiked.

I didn’t think at all. I opened the door and slid inside.

The car pulled away immediately.

The gate closed behind us.

Relief hit me so suddenly my eyes burned with tears.

“I—thank you,” I said shakily, turning toward the driver. “I don’t have cash with me right now, but...”

He didn’t answer.

“It’s okay,” I added quickly. “I just need to borrow your phone. My phone was taken from me.”

Silence.

A thin line of unease crept up my spine.

“Sir?” I tried again, forcing a small laugh. “Please. I just need to make one call.”

No response.

I reached forward and tapped his shoulder lightly.

The car screeched to a stop.

My body lurched violently, my hands flying forward as I gasped. My heart slammed against my ribs.

“What are you doing?” I cried.

He turned slowly, his eyes dark and sharp.

“Get out,” he snapped.

Fear flooded me instantly.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said quickly. “Please, I just...”

He opened the door and grabbed my arm, dragging me out so roughly I stumbled and nearly fell. The gravel bit into my palms as I tried to steady myself.

“What did I do?” I cried, panic spilling over me. “Please tell me!”

He laughed coldly.

“You really don’t know,” he said. “Do you?”

My chest tightened painfully. “Know what?”

“Your parents,” he said calmly. “They killed my brother.”

The words didn’t make sense.

“What?” I whispered.

“They set him up,” he continued. “Sold him out and watched him die.”

“That’s not true!” I sobbed. “You’re lying!”

“My parents are farmers,” I cried desperately. “They are kind people. They wouldn’t hurt anyone. They can’t even kill a rat!”

He stepped closer.

“That’s funny,” he said. “Because my brother is dead.”

He cocked his gun.

The sound shattered what little strength I had left.

I dropped to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t kill me. They are innocent. Someone framed them I swear.”

He aimed the gun at my head.

“This is for my brother,” he said coldly.

I squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the sound.