The Architect of Her Dawn

For the past two years, I had been tormented by Juliet, my husband Cameron's sister.

Using the PTSD she’d suffered in a kidnapping as an excuse, she forced me to kneel and scrub the cold marble floors, sent me out into the freezing night for a specific dessert, and even threatened to jump from the balcony of their Chicago penthouse.

Not wanting to put Cameron in a difficult position, I gave in time and time again, but my patience only made her more relentless.

Until one day, Juliet threatened suicide again, forcing me to delete every photo of me and Cameron from my cloud storage and even forcing me to drag the scanned copy of our marriage certificate into the recycling bin.

I sent Cameron a message, begging him to get her professional help for her trauma, but my words were met with silence.

When I went to City Hall, my heart heavy, to apply for a new copy of our marriage certificate, I was told that our divorce had been finalized a few days earlier.

I then remembered the stack of documents Cameron had given me to sign not long ago, claiming they were to set up a new real estate trust fund. Tucked among them had been the divorce papers.

Heartbroken, I rushed to Cameron's company. While I was waiting for him, I glanced up at the financial news screen in the lobby and froze. There was Juliet—the same Juliet who was supposedly too anxious and shy to even leave the house. She was in the private room of a high-end restaurant, raising a glass in a celebratory toast with Cameron and his vice president, Caroline Underwood.

I heard them talking about the finalized divorce and how to kick me out of the house.

It turned out that not only was Juliet using her illness as a weapon, but the tragedy from two years ago was also being blamed on me—and Cameron had silently gone along with it all.

Any hope I had left turned to ash. I decided to end this farce, leave Cameron, and return to the family I had abandoned for love, to accept the marriage my grandfather had arranged for me.

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1

For the past two years, my name might as well have been Evelyn Reed, the woman who always compromised.

At first, Juliet Blackwood made me kneel and scrub the marble floors. Later, her demands grew more extreme. She forced me out on a freezing Chicago winter night—twenty degrees below zero—just to buy her a particular brand of dessert. After that, she even threatened to jump from the balcony of their Chicago penthouse. Each demand was more unhinged and malicious than the last.

"This is all your fault, you jinx! If you hadn't been clinging to Cameron, would I have been kidnapped? Would I have PTSD?!" Juliet shrieked, teetering on the edge of the balcony. "Hurry up! Delete every single photo of you and Cameron from the cloud! Not one can be left!"

"Still not doing it?" Juliet suddenly swung one leg over the railing. "Fine, I'll jump! Let's see how you explain that to Cameron!"

I closed my eyes in resignation. In that moment, dignity felt meaningless. "Don't move, Juliet. I'll delete them. I'll do it right now."

I ran back to the study, opened my computer, and deleted every trace of the seven years I had shared with Cameron. With my own hands, I even dragged the scanned copy of our marriage certificate into the recycling bin.

Juliet watched it all through the floor-to-ceiling window, a satisfied smile playing on her lips before she turned and left.

I crouched on the floor, weeping silently as I stared at the empty folder on the screen. After a long time, I took out my phone and sent Cameron a text: "Honey, you really need to get Juliet to a specialist for her PTSD. Today she—"

The read receipt confirmed he'd seen it, but he never replied.

I stared at the screen for a long, long time. Then, on a strange impulse, I got up and drove to City Hall. I needed a new copy of my marriage certificate.

There were only a few people in the cavernous hall.

I handed my identification to the clerk. After checking her system, the clerk’s brow furrowed. "Um... Ms. Reed? It says here your marital status is 'divorced.'"

"What?" My mind went blank. My voice trembled. "That's impossible. I never filed for divorce, we've never been to court—"

The clerk turned the monitor toward me. "The system shows a final decree was signed by a judge a few days ago, based on an uncontested divorce agreement signed by both parties."

I gripped the edge of the counter, my fingertips turning white from the pressure. My hands were shaking uncontrollably.

I suddenly remembered. A little while ago, Cameron had his lawyer give me a thick stack of documents to sign, claiming they were for a new real estate trust fund. Just then, Juliet had started smashing things in the next room, screaming for me. Desperate to calm her down, I’d signed without a second glance.

It turned out they weren't just trust documents; divorce papers had been slipped in.

The people in line behind me started to grumble.

"If you're not getting anything done, then move. Don't waste our time!"

"What a fool. Doesn't even know she got dumped. Serves her right."

I don't know how I walked out of that building.

The July sun beat down on the asphalt, hot enough to set the ground on fire, but a bone-chilling cold seeped into me, and I could feel my teeth chattering.

I took a taxi straight to the Blackwood Group headquarters.

While waiting for Cameron in the lobby, the giant screen broadcasting financial news was running a special on "Blackwood Group Reaches New Highs." The scene cut to a private room in a high-end restaurant. I stopped in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat.

Through the screen, I saw Juliet, the same Juliet who had supposedly been too anxious to leave the house for two years, now holding a champagne glass with a brilliant smile.

And Cameron's vice president, Caroline Underwood, was sitting intimately beside him, leaning over to cut a piece of filet mignon before placing it casually on his plate.

"Cameron, is Evelyn tattling on me again? All she does is whine and cry," Juliet said smugly. "Don't you go soft on her. This time, you have to cut ties completely!"

Caroline said gently, "Juliet, Evelyn has been taking care of you for two years. It hasn't been easy on her."

"She deserved it!" Juliet shrieked, her voice rising. "If she hadn't been clinging to Cameron, begging him not to pick me up from the airport, would I have been kidnapped by his business rivals?! She owes us!"

My fingernails dug into the soft flesh of my palms, the stinging pain the only thing keeping me upright.

On the screen, Cameron frowned, a complex expression on his face, but he said nothing. His silence was his answer. He agreed.

"Cameron," Juliet's tone shifted, "the decree is final. When are you going to kick her out of our house?"

Cameron's voice grew low. "Juliet, give her some time. She has nowhere else to go. Besides—"

Juliet cut him off with a shrill cry. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on her?! Look at Caroline! An Ivy League graduate, your right-hand woman, beautiful and capable—a hundred times better than Evelyn!"

Cameron's voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. "Don't spook her yet. I have other plans."

Juliet sneered, her eyes full of malice. "Fine. As long as that woman is still in the house, I have plenty of ways to make her life hell. I still have tricks I haven't even used yet."

"Don't go too far," Cameron said softly, his tone more indulgent than forbidding.

I stumbled backward, tears blurring my vision. So, not only was I divorced, I was the last to know.

I walked out of the building, a desolate smile on my lips as I watched the traffic speeding past.

I had been a spectator to this farce for two years. It was time for the show to end.

Since I was clearly an outsider in my own marriage, I would at least leave with some dignity.

Two years ago, for Cameron, I had completely broken ties with my family. I had even sworn I would rather die than accept the marriage my grandfather had arranged for me.

Since the divorce was already final...

Alright then.

I would go back. Back to Seattle, to marry the man I should have married all along.