Chapter 4

Cecily's POV

I stared at myself in the dressing room mirror. The stylist had left an elegant, high-necked emerald gown. It fit me like armor and covered every red mark Nolan had left on my collarbone.

I closed my eyes and drew a shaky breath. I only had to get through tonight.

I had no choice. Tomorrow was Sunday, the day I visited my father at Oakridge Care Center every week.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I could still hear the tires screeching two years ago. The crash had killed my mother instantly and left my father in a deep coma. His medical bills had nearly buried me.

Then Everett appeared. He bought my father's failing company and offered me a way out. He needed a respectable wife to satisfy the family board. More importantly, he needed a shield because his heart belonged to Sabine, the daughter of a rival family--a match the Rothwells would never allow.

I signed away my life to keep my father breathing. I was only a pawn, and a pawn that wanted to survive couldn't afford illusions.

An hour later, I sat in the cold, cavernous dining room.

The air was tense. At the center of it all was Everett's intimidating mother, Lenora Rothwell. She sat at the head of the table and examined me with sharp eyes, as if she were inspecting defective merchandise.

"Two years, Cecily," Lenora said over the quiet clink of crystal. "And still no sign of an heir. The board is growing impatient. Everett's position won't be secure until the bloodline is settled."

I lowered my eyes and forced a smile. "I'm sorry, Lenora. We're... trying."

Across the table, Nolan gave a low laugh. "Oh, I'm sure Cecily is trying very hard, Mother. She looked exhausted this morning."

My breath stopped. Under the table, my hands curled into fists.

Then a warm, heavy hand closed around my knee.

I flinched and glanced to my right. Everett's profile was hard and unreadable. His hand wasn't comforting me. It held me in place with stiff, possessive pressure, his fingers digging slightly into my skin.

"Cecily's body and our plans are my responsibility, Mother," Everett said coldly. "They are none of your concern, and Nolan has no place in them."

For one foolish second, my heart stirred. I almost believed he was defending me.

Lenora gave a dismissive sound. "Then handle it quickly, Everett. Sabine is returning to the city next month. We can't have the press distracted by old rumors again."

Sabine was coming back.

The name changed everything. Everett's hand left my knee as if he had been burned. He shifted in his chair, becoming distant and completely closed off from me. The small trace of warmth disappeared.

When the painful dinner finally ended, I slipped onto the dim terrace for air.

I didn't hear anyone approach until a solid chest pressed against my back.

"Did you feel special in there?" Nolan asked near my ear. I jerked away, but he trapped me against the cold stone railing. "You thought he was protecting you, didn't you?"

"Stay away from me, Nolan," I said through clenched teeth.

He laughed softly, caught my shoulder, and turned me to face him. "Everett doesn't care about you. He just doesn't like anyone touching his toys. But now that his precious Sabine is coming back... you don't even qualify as a toy anymore."

Instead of stepping away, Nolan pressed his body fully against mine. His hand moved down the silk of my gown and gripped my hip with hungry force.

"You're wasting away in this house," Nolan said, his lips brushing the pulse in my neck. His obsession was obvious now. "He'll throw you away soon. Stop pretending to be the miserable wife and let me show you how this body should be treated."

The humiliation at dinner, Everett's coldness, and Nolan's open disrespect all came together in one burst of anger.

I slapped him.

The crack echoed across the terrace, leaving my palm burning.

Nolan's head snapped to the side. A red mark appeared along his jaw. For one second, something wild flashed in his eyes. Then a crazy smile spread across his face.

He liked it.

"That night was a disgusting mistake," I said, shaking. "I don't care about the ridiculous fight between you and your brother. Stay away from me."

Before he could respond, I shoved him back, gathered my skirt, and ran. I raced through the hall to my bedroom, slammed the heavy oak door, and locked it.

I slid down the door onto the cold floor, struggling to breathe.

It was fine. I dug my nails into my palms as I repeated the words to myself.

When Everett first offered me the contract, it had one strict term: three years.

Two years had already passed. I only had to hold on for one more. Then we would divorce quietly, all of my father's medical expenses would be covered, and I would be free.

One more year, I whispered into the dark room.