Florence Hurley POV:
His "I'm sorry" hung in the air, a meaningless whisper in the vast, empty room. I lay beside him, wide awake, the cold realization settling deep in my bones. He wasn't sorry for me, or for his actions. He was sorry for himself, for the brief lapse in his carefully constructed apathy. He was sorry that even with me in his bed, it was Kennedy's name that spilled from his lips. He was sorry he couldn't have her.
I stared at the ceiling, my eyes burning. What were we doing? This charade, this torture, served no one.
"Jason," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "Let's end this. Let's get a divorce."
He didn't move. He just lay there, silent, his back still turned to me. I waited, but no response came. After a few minutes, his breathing deepened, evening out into the steady rhythm of sleep. He had simply ignored me. Or perhaps, in his self-absorbed world, he hadn't even heard.
I slipped out of bed as dawn approached, dressing quickly. When I left the room, he was still asleep, a dark, imposing figure in the luxurious bed.
As I walked downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee filled the air. And another, familiar scent: Kennedy's expensive perfume. She sat at the breakfast nook, sipping tea, looking perfectly at home. Marie bustled around her, doting, attentive. The other house staff moved with a renewed energy, eager to please the "real" mistress of the house.
"Oh, good morning, Florence," Kennedy purred, her eyes glittering with malicious amusement. "Sleeping beauty finally awakens?"
I ignored her, moving towards the kitchen.
"Leaving so soon?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock concern. "Jason just told me I could stay as long as I like, remember? So, it looks like you are the one who needs to make alternative arrangements."
A cold tendril of anger coiled in my gut. "I'll go when I'm ready," I said, my voice flat.
"Oh, really?" Kennedy scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Because Jason explicitly said you were disrupting his peace. He suggested you move out. Permanently." She took a delicate sip of her tea. "Honestly, Florence. It's time to face facts. He only married you out of spite. Now that I'm free, you're… redundant."
My hands clenched at my sides. "That's between Jason and me," I retorted, though the words felt weak, hollow.
"Is it?" she challenged, rising and walking towards me. Her eyes were hard, unyielding. "He still loves me, you know. Always has. You were just a placeholder. A pretty little distraction." She smirked. "So, do the smart thing, Florence. Pack your bags. Leave. And let him get on with his real life."
I stared at her, my mind flashing back to Jason's whispered "I'm sorry." It wasn't pity. It was relief. Relief that his road to Kennedy was finally clear. He wasn't sorry for hurting me; he was sorry for the inconvenience of our marriage.
"He could have divorced me years ago," I pointed out, a desperate plea to logic. "Why keep me chained here?"
Kennedy's laugh was sharp, condescending. "Oh, darling. You really are naive, aren't you? He offered you a divorce, didn't he? Years ago, after the first year of your 'marriage' was up. He even offered you a generous settlement. But you refused." Her eyes gleamed. "$10 million, wasn't it? If you signed a full non-disclosure and left quietly."
My blood ran cold. $10 million. Why hadn't I taken it?
Jason stood before me, a stack of legal papers in his hand. "This is your chance, Florence," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "A clean break. Ten million, and you're free. My lawyers have prepared the documents."
I stared at the papers, then at him. "Ten million?" My family's debt was one million. This was ten times that. Enough to start over, to truly be free.
But then I thought of my family. My greedy, grasping family. They would demand a share. They would pull me back into their orbit of financial dependency. And I would still be indebted to them, just in a different way.
"What about the $1 million debt?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "The one you paid for my family?"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's separate, Florence. That was the price for you. This is the price for your silence. If you divorce me, you owe me that million dollars back. Immediately."
My heart sank. A million dollars. Where would I get that kind of money? I had no job, no skills that could earn me that much, no family support without strings attached. I was trapped.
"I… I can't," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "I can't pay you back."
He smiled then, a cold, triumphant smile. "Exactly. So, you'll stay. You'll be my wife. And you'll play the part."
"I couldn't," I told Kennedy, my voice hollow. "I didn't have the money to pay back the original debt."
Kennedy merely shrugged. "Your problem, not ours." She glanced at her phone, then back at me, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Well, I believe Jason and I were just about to have a very private breakfast. So, if you'll excuse us..."
I turned, my legs feeling like lead. Just as I reached the main door, my phone buzzed. A text from Jason.
Florence, I saw you speaking with Kennedy. One more word out of line, one more insubordinate act, and I'll make sure you regret it. Consider this your final warning.
And then, another message, an image this time. A picture of Jason, his arm wrapped around Kennedy, both of them beaming, standing in front of the city museum' s new "Kennedy Herman Wing."
He was not just abandoning me; he was flaunting it. Rubbing my face in his betrayal. The last shred of lingering hope, the faint possibility that I was more than a pawn, crumbled into dust.
Anger, cold and hard, replaced the despair. Regret it? He would regret the day he ever thought he could control me.
My phone buzzed again, this time a message from Elysian Fields. Willow, your exclusive client is requesting you for the night. Urgent. Increased compensation.
Urgent. Increased compensation. The words chimed like a bell of freedom.
Jason Lopez, you will regret this. I will make sure of it. I will not just leave; I will evaporate.
Confirm. I'll be there, I texted back.
I walked out of the mansion, not towards my car, but towards a taxi stand. My destination: Elysian Fields. Tonight, I would earn my freedom, one dollar at a time. And tomorrow, I would be unstoppable.
