I stood in the center of the guest room watching the flames lick at the edges of the scarf Charles had bought me for my birthday three years ago. Next went the pearl earrings. Then the signed first edition of The Fountainhead he’d given me with a smug grin.
I watched the fire consume the physical remnants of seven years of lies.
"Nadine?"
The door creaked open. Elaine stood there, still in her silver engagement dress.
"Oh my god, what are you doing?" she gasped, looking at the small fire. "Look," she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "I... I wanted to say sorry about tonight. The serving thing. That was Charles's idea. I told him it was too much."
I stared at her. The audacity was breathtaking.
"And the proposal?" I asked, my voice deadly calm. "Was that his idea too? Or did you pick out the ring together while I was in the hospital?"
"I didn't mean for him to propose tonight," she sniffled, tears welling up in her eyes on cue. "Maybe if you hadn't... you know... ruined your reputation, things would be different. I'm just trying to pick up the pieces, Nadine."
She reached out to touch my shoulder. "We can still be friends. I know this is hard—"
My hand connected with her cheek with a force that vibrated up my arm. Elaine stumbled back, clutching her face. The shock in her eyes was real this time. Then, the waterworks started. She burst into loud, wailing sobs.
"What the hell is going on in here?"
Charles stormed in.
"She hit me!" Elaine screamed, pointing a manicured finger at me. "I came to apologize and she hit me!"
Charles turned to me, his face twisting in disgust. "Are you insane? You're burning the house down and assaulting my fiancée?"
"What else did you expect?" I asked, my voice trembling not with fear, but with the effort of holding back a scream. "You humiliated me. You made me serve your guests while you proposed to her."
"Nadine, stop being so dramatic," Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was just a play. A show for the investors. You know how this industry works. Perception is everything."
"A play?" I laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You asked her to marry you."
"Because I need a wife who looks the part!" he snapped. "Not someone who has been branded a whore. Not someone who was seen on a twenty-foot screen soliciting bribes with her body. I can't marry you, Nadine. You're damaged goods."
The words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous.
"But," he continued, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. I forced myself not to recoil. "That doesn't mean I don't want you. You're still the only woman who understands me. You're still the best architect I know."
He smirked. "You can be my mistress. If you want. We can keep it quiet. You get to stay in the penthouse, keep your job... in the shadows. Where you belong now."
I stared at him. I wanted to scream. But it was useless.
"We can share him," Elaine chimed in, her tears miraculously drying up. She walked over and looped her arm through Charles's, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't mind, really. Like he said, Nadine, you have nowhere else to go. No one else will hire you. We're your family."
I looked at the fire dying down in the trash can. I looked at the man I had loved for seven years and the woman I had mentored.
"Fine," I whispered, looking at the floor. "You're right. I have nowhere else to go."
Charles smiled, patting my cheek. "Good girl. I knew you'd see reason."
"Now," he clapped his hands together. "Since we're all on the same page... Elaine and I want to get married fast. Strike while the iron is hot. Five days."
Our anniversary. The date we had started the company. The date we had met. He was stealing even that.
"Okay," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll help."
"Great," Charles beamed. "You can handle the logistics. The flowers, the seating charts. You're good at the details."
"Sure," I nodded slowly. "I'll give you the best gift I can."
The next five days were a blur of manic activity. I played the part of the repentant, grateful ex perfectly. I ordered the flowers—lilies, because Elaine was allergic to roses, though she pretended not to be. I organized the seating chart, placing Charles's most detested aunt right next to him.
But in the quiet moments, I was moving pieces on a different board.
The morning after the "agreement," I slipped out while they were still asleep. I took a cab to the City Clerk’s office.
Mateo was waiting for me on the steps.
He held up a folder. "Everything is ready. The transfer of assets, the prenup protecting you, and the marriage license."
We walked inside. It took ten minutes. No vows. No rings. just signatures on a piece of paper that bound me to the only man powerful enough to shield me from Charles Sterling.
"Done," the clerk stamped the document.
"Done," Mateo echoed, looking at me with an unreadable expression. "You're Mrs. Vega now. Try not to look so thrilled."
"I'll save the thrill for when Charles realizes he's lost everything," I said.
The day of the wedding arrived. I was up at 5 AM. I packed the last of my things. Then, I left the penthouse at 6 AM.
At 9 AM, my phone started buzzing.
Charles calling.
I let it ring.
Elaine calling.
I ignored it.
By 10 AM, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Mateo’s black SUV, watching the rain streak the windows. We were heading towards the private airfield.
My phone rang again. Charles.
I picked up.
"Where the hell are you?" Charles roared. I could hear the distinct sound of panic in the background—shouting staff, clinking glass. "The ceremony starts in two hours! Where are the rings? You were supposed to bring them!"
"And my dress!" Elaine's voice screeched, close to the receiver. "The seamstress says the alterations are wrong! It's too tight! I can't breathe! Nadine, you bitch, where are you?"
I smiled, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass. "Oh, about that? Sorry. I must have gotten the measurements mixed up."
"Mixed up?" Charles shouted. "You don't make mistakes! Fix this! Get here now! And bring the damn rings!"
"Everything you need is in a box on the shelf in the guest room," I said. "The rings. And my wedding gift for the both of you. Just get it there."
"Nadine, stop playing games. Where are you? Why aren't you here?"
“Happy Anniversary, Charles. Enjoy your wedding day.”
"Nadine!" Charles yelled. "Where are you—”
I pressed the red button, blocked him, and I tossed the phone into the cupholder and looked ahead at the open road.
