LYDIA’S POV
The silence of the taxi was a mercy I didn't deserve. My phone, however, was a relentless executioner, it kept vibrating against my thigh.
It was probably notification from the social media accounts I had forgotten to mute.
I finally looked and…I froze.
At the top of the trending local chart was Patrick's name. He had posted a high-resolution shot of him and Lydia holding hands and sharing a lingering, cinematic kiss.
He hadn't even waited for the scent of my perfume to fade from his sheets before going public.
The caption read:
“I finally found my soulmate and this time, it hits different.”
I almost let out a scoff. Soulmate? What was I? A playmate?
I tapped on the post, my vision blurring as I scrolled through the comments.
“Took him seven years to realize he was dating the wrong Lydia,” one read, followed by a laughing emoji.
“Finally, he’s free of that lovesick bitch. She was always clinging to him like a desperate puppy,” another sneered.
“Seven years and no ring? That’s why she lost. She was just a placeholder.”
They were right.
It was pathetic how the internet, in all its cruelty, saw what I had refused to acknowledge.
I had been a fool, a lovesick bitch who ignored every red flag, every cold shoulder, and every late-night meeting just to keep a seat at a table where I was never truly welcome.
A new message banner slid across the top of the screen. It wasn't from a stranger. It was from my father.
YOU BETTER GET THE FUCK HOME!
The familiar drumming at my chest returned and Instinctively took a deep breath to calm my racing heart.
Almost immediately the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the familiar, looming gates of my childhood home. My heart sank into my stomach. I paid the driver with trembling hands and dragged my luggage toward the front door.
I felt like a soldier returning from a lost war, carrying the remains of a life that no longer existed.
I pushed the door open.
“You insolent daughter!” The roar echoed through the living room before I could even draw a breath. I didn't have time to react before a heavy ceramic vase whistled through the air. It missed my head but shattered against the floor inches from my feet.
A jagged shard sliced through the skin of my ankle. I didn't scream; I just watched the thin line of red bloom against my pale skin.
My father stood in the center of the room, his face purple with rage. “Useless!” he bellowed. “You can’t even keep a man! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Patrick pulled out of the Riverside Project and froze the tech merger. The moment he did, the others followed. In less than an hour, we’ve lost hundreds of millions!” My father spat, his voice trembling with a different kind of violence.
“I’ll be bankrupt by morning, and it’s all because you were too pathetic to hold onto him!”
I knew that had happened but didn't realize how fast it would. He really was waiting for the breakup before he brutally erased me from his life.
Since I met Patrick, our family had risen from struggling nobodies to the heights of the middle class. Patrick’s investments were the only thing keeping my father’s company afloat.
“Kneel.” He pointed at the floor, his voice cutting through my haze.
I sank to my knees amidst the broken glass. My father reached into his favorite mahogany drawer and pulled out the leather whip.
Staring at that whip, brought back those memories I had always tried to push back.
Suddenly, I was five years old again, huddled in a corner of the nursery, watching that same whip rise and fall. I could hear my childhood cries echoing off the walls until my mother finally broke free from the servants holding her back, throwing her body over mine to take the blows meant for me.
Whip!
The leather bit into my shoulder, snapping me back to the present.
I clutched my fists, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a sob.
“Acting tough now?” he growled, raising his arm again. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Before the whip could fall a second time, the door burst open. Our butler, breathless and pale, stumbled in. “Sir! Sir, wait! There’s a letter!”
My father paused, the whip still trembling in the air. “This better be worth my time.”
“It’s a marriage proposal, sir. For Miss Lydia.”
The transformation in my father was sickening. He dropped the whip, the leather hitting the floor with a dull thud, and snatched the envelope. As he read, his eyes lit up with a predatory greed.
“She’s useful after all,” he whispered, a terrifying grin spreading across his face.
“The richest man in the country... he actually wants her.”
He looked down at me, his rage forgotten in the scent of fresh money.
“Get up. You’re getting married to Travis Hayes in twenty-four hours.”
My blood ran cold.
Travis Hayes?
My ex?
Travis was the lowly orphan in college I had once loved with every ounce of my soul.
He barely had something to survive on, throughout my relationship with him, I had fed him when he was hungry; I had been his only world until my father found out. He had threatened to sell my younger sister into a forced marriage if I didn't break up with Travis…break Travis's heart.
I had done it brutally, publicly, shattering him to save her and he never held it against me but the hurt, the pain he always carried in his eyes after that day broke me.
Eventually he dropped out and years later, rumors surfaced that he wasn't an orphan at all, but the long-lost heir to the Hayes empire. I was happy for him and the past seven years in Patrick's grasp, completely erased his existence from my mind.
But why?
Why would he want to marry me immediately when my humiliation and breakup had become a hot topic online?
“I won't marry him,” I whispered.
My father stopped mid-stride. “What did you say?”
“I said I won't marry him.”
Slap!
His hand moved faster than I could see. The slap sent me sprawling onto the floor, my vision swimming.
“You are a tool!” he screamed. “You are just a ladder for me to climb to high society! You don't have an option!”
I spat out blood, glaring at him.
He seemed so pathetic to look at. He was going crazy about my marriage to the same boy he forced me to break into pieces.
He had only known I was in a relationship back then and never did a thorough investigation.
What if he finds out he was the same trash he scorned? Would he still be acting mad like he is?
“I won't marry him!"
“Fine." He pulled out his phone giving me a cold snarl.
“If you won't go, I’ll send your sister instead. I’m sure Travis won't mind the younger version.”
“No!” I lunged for his hand, clutching his trousers from the floor. “No, don't involve her. I’ll go. I’ll marry him. Just leave her alone.”
He patted my head, his touch oily and cold. “Good girl.” A cruel smile plastered on his lips.
His phone chirped again.
He looked at the screen and let out a dry chuckle. “Well, it seems your ex-boyfriend has one last request.”
My heart skipped a beat.
"Patrick is holding an engagement ceremony tonight for his new girl and he wants you there, Lydia. Since you can't keep a man, he wants you to be the one to present the rings.”
My heart constricted so violently I thought it would burst. He didn't just want to replace me; he wanted to watch me serve the one thing I'd always wanted…to watch him place it on another girl's finger.
“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice dead.
“Finally you've grown some common sense." My father beamed.
“You have five hours to get ready. Don't you dare make him realize you're getting married and you better get back home early. First thing tomorrow morning, you fly to France for your wedding.”
I gave a curt nod watching him walk out with the butler, leaving me alone on the floor with my blood and his broken glass.
My fist balled as a tear rolled down my cheek.
Patrick wanted to see me break? Fine. I would give him his show.
I would hand him that ring, and maybe that will finally kill the last shred of feelings I've got for him.
