Chapter 3

Back in my room, the question hit me with a fresh wave of exhaustion: How was I supposed to shake off this pack of bloodsuckers for good?

As I was lost in thought, my eyes drifted to the wedding photo on my nightstand.

Staring at myself in the photo, grinning from ear to ear like I actually believed in happily ever after, I couldn't help but feel a wave of irony and sadness wash over me.

Back then, I thought a happy family life was waiting for me. What a joke. Reality turned out to be a living hell.

I ripped the wedding photo out of its frame, tore it into tiny pieces, and flushed them down the toilet.

This whole marriage was nothing but a beautifully laid trap, designed for no other purpose than to drain me dry.

I went to my closet and dug all the way to the back, my fingers finally closing around the familiar fabric. I pulled out that old dress. In my previous life, this was the symbol of my love with Richard.

When I was eighteen, my parents died in a car accident. The shock of losing them sent me spiraling into a deep depression.

Richard's dad, Benson, who was a longtime employee at my father's company, introduced us.

From then on, Richard became a constant presence in my life and started pursuing me relentlessly.

Because of the way our dads were connected, I couldn't help but want to keep my distance from Richard. Plus, I was still reeling from losing my parents, so I shot him down over and over.

No matter how many times I tried to push Richard away, he always showed up again.

Back then, he was almost too considerate, constantly fussing over me and always coming up with new ways to lift my spirits. He poured his heart into chasing me for two solid years and just wouldn't quit.

The thing that touched me the most and finally made me let Richard into my heart was when he gave me this custom-made dress.

I'd always loved food, both eating it and creating it. My dream since I was a kid was to open my own restaurant.

But loving food that much meant I hit puberty early and never had what you'd call a "slim" figure. I was an easy target for cruel comments about my weight from my classmates.

During a school talent show, I squeezed myself into my favorite dress and found the courage to walk on stage.

The problem was, the dress wasn't made for my body type and I had to force myself into a size that was too small. And I felt constricted and uncomfortable from the moment I put it on.

I'd barely taken a few steps when people in the crowd started shouting crude jokes about my body. The humiliation was so complete that I broke down in tears and ran off the stage.

After that, my body confidence was shattered. I swore I'd never wear a dress again.

But I loved dresses, really.

On my twentieth birthday, Richard gave me this tailored dress, looked me in the eyes, and said, "When you're with me, you never have to feel insecure. No matter your size, I'll love you just the same."

I was so touched that year I wore this very dress for our wedding photos, the ones I just ripped up and flushed away.

I grabbed the dress and stood in front of the mirror, holding it up against myself, picturing how it used to make me feel confident and happy.

I'd been with Richard since I was twenty. Twenty-eight years had gone by in a blink, and now I was forty-eight.

Looking in the mirror, all I saw were exhausted eyes, skin lifeless and ashen, thinning hair, and hands so rough and cracked I barely recognized them as mine.

Years and years of nonstop grinding had only made me heavier.

In that moment, all I could do was feel sorry for myself.

So I picked up a pair of scissors and methodically snipped that dress into strip after strip.

Then I walked through the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom, and I gathered up every old rag I could find. I replaced them all with those strips of fabric.

The next day, I quit my jobs at both the construction site and the restaurant. I took this month's paycheck to the bank, got a new bank card, and deposited the money.

In my previous life, my paycheck was never my own. It was a constant juggling act: Jason needed money, the in-laws always had their hands out, and I was left responsible for every single household bill.

After all that, I'd be lucky if I had enough left over for a single pack of sanitary pads each month.

With the money in hand, I went shopping and treated myself to a nice new dress. Putting it on, I headed straight to the most renowned high-end restaurant in town.

When I got to my table, a waiter dressed to the nines politely pulled out my chair for me. I was almost embarrassed by the attention, and couldn't help thanking him again and again.

As I sat down in that spot I used to know so well, a flood of emotions washed over me.

There was a time when I was the family's pampered princess, walking into places like this felt as natural as coming home. I used to enjoy every bit of that top-notch service, never thinking twice about the cost, just soaking up that privileged life.

But now, all that was just a memory.

A swirl of emotions ran through me as I quietly enjoyed this luxurious meal—the first in twenty-eight years.