3: 3
Eight o'clock at night.
A message from Mark came through.
He'd booked out a Michelin-starred restaurant, he said, coaxing me to come celebrate our third engagement anniversary.
I only agreed so I could get back the documents I'd left with him.
I pushed open the private room door and froze.
Sitting at the round table weren't just Mark. Rowena was there too, dressed head to toe in designer labels, and beside her sat a bank credit department manager in a sharp suit.
The moment Mark saw me, he broke into that doting smile.
He came over to pull out my chair and poured red wine for me, gentle as anything, as if nothing had ever happened.
I looked coldly at the black truffle and caviar spread across the table and didn't touch a thing.
The more attentive he was, the harder the sourness churned in my stomach.
The dinner had barely started when Mark slid a joint-liability guaranty contract across to me with a smile.
His voice was soft. "Cami, I hope you'll sign this. Help Rowena out, just this once."
Rowena's eyes went red on cue, watching me on the verge of tears.
"Please, you're going to be his wife. If you'll just put your apartment up as collateral, my online store can get back on its feet."
"I swear, I'll work myself to the bone for the two of you after this."
Mark took my hand and gazed at me with all his feeling.
"Once we're married, we're one unit. This is just a formality. You think I'd ever let you carry any real risk?"
"I wanted to just clear her debt outright, but Rowena has her pride. We're only lending her the house for a little while."
"Be good and sign it. I promise the apartment comes back to you in one piece."
I was shaking all over. I threw his hand off with everything I had.
"Mark, are you determined to drain every drop of my blood and grind my bones to dust, just to pour it all into her bottomless pit?"
The smile vanished completely from the corner of his mouth. He looked at me and let out a long sigh.
"Camille, why are you throwing a tantrum in front of an outsider? Are you set on humiliating me in front of Manager Dickerson?"
I picked up the red wine in front of me and, without a second's hesitation, threw it in that disgusting face of his.
Over Rowena's shrill scream, I pulled my documents out of his pocket and walked out of the room.
Standing on the street with the cold wind howling around me, I called my old university mentor.
"Professor, that overseas art residency at Continental. I'll take it."
I hung up and pulled in a hard breath to steady myself.
Three years of dreaming, and I was finally awake.
I finally understood. Real security had never come from a man's hollow promises. It came from being able to hold my own fate in my hands.
The screen lit up. Another message from Mark, still arrogant, still so sure of himself.
"Done throwing your fit? Come to the office tomorrow like a good girl and apologize, and I'll pretend none of today ever happened."
Looking at the screen, all I felt was how absurd it was.
Calmly, I deleted our couple's shared cloud account, wiping out every photo and every note.
Then I snapped my SIM card in half and dropped it down the drain.
