Mansion

Irene Jones POV

“No thanks.” I stared him down, heat rising up my chest. How the fuck could he dare congratulate me—now, of all times?

Screw the whole Myers family. Screw the Jones family too.

“We’re going. I need to take you to the Myers mansion.” He snatched the papers from my hands like he had the right.

Somehow, he managed to be polite and rude at the same time—maybe because even he knew I was just a substitute.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going back to my apartment.”

He opened his mouth, but I turned and walked off before he could get a word in.

No way life could be this cruel—could it?

I needed air. Space. I might be trapped in this marriage, but that didn’t mean I’d chain myself to the damn Myers estate.

I’d already clawed my way out of the Jones family’s mess. Scraped and fought for every inch of freedom until I finally had a tiny apartment of my own.

Only my dead body is going back into the cage of these rich-family politics.

Sometimes I wonder—if my mom hadn’t married Leo Jones, would things have been different?

Who was I kidding? Even without him, she would've treated me like a mistake. Or worse.

I was eight when she shoved me into that new household, clinging to the hope that things might finally get better.

Now, at twenty-one, I knew exactly how bad they could get.

My breathing turned ragged. I had no money on me, and walking through the streets in a damn wedding dress wasn’t exactly subtle.

Can’t life go a bit easy on me? Why does it always have to go from bad to worse?

Hours blurred into each other. I didn’t know how long I walked—how many glances I ignored, how many cold stares I swallowed down.

By the time my building came into view, my legs ached and the heels I wore had nearly torn my feet apart.

I dragged myself up the steps, each breath a fight, and finally reached my apartment door.

Home.

The only place that still felt like mine.

With a shaky hand, I turned the key and stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me.

A breath escaped my lungs—something close to calm, something almost like freedom.

The walls welcomed me in a way people never did. Bare, cracked in places, the faint scent of old wood and cheap detergent clung to the air.

But it was mine.

I kicked off the heels, toes wincing as they touched the cool floor. The wedding dress—filthy, wrinkled, stained—hung off me like some cruel joke.

For a second, I just stood there, staring at the cracked mirror above the sink.

A stranger looked back.

Eyes smudged with makeup. Hair frizzed and messy from the humidity. Shoulders slumped under the weight of things I hadn't asked for.

How did it come to this?

How did I let them corner me like this?

My cheek still burned from the slap I’d taken earlier.

The dress’s zipper jammed halfway down. I yanked at it, fabric tearing. A sob clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it back.

Piece by piece, I ripped the dress off. The satin crumpled to the floor in a dirty heap.

I dug through the drawers until I found an old sweatshirt and threw it over my head, the fabric worn soft from a hundred washes. Familiar. Safe.

My knees buckled before I made it to the couch.

I sat there, arms wrapped around my ribs, rocking slightly without meaning to. The silence buzzed in my ears.

Married.

Married to a Myers.

My throat tightened until breathing felt like dragging glass through my lungs.

Get it together, Irene. I tried to force myself to focus.

But the tears kept pushing, kept burning.

No one was coming to save me. No one ever had.

How could I even expect anything different now?

What hurt me more was how I’d let myself get cornered by Cyril—like he could do whatever he wanted.

The way he touched me... everything made me feel more humiliated than this forced marriage ever could.

How was I supposed to handle any of this?

My husband—Theodore Myers—was nowhere to be found. And if Leo Jones found out, he’d blame me without a second thought.

My own mother would too.

Ring... Ring...

The doorbell jolted me.

Who the hell was here now?

“Anyone inside?” The voice didn’t sound familiar, but I dragged my exhausted body to the door and opened it.

The building might be old, but it’s safe.

My eyes widened as I saw a group of men in black standing in the hallway.

“What—”

Before I could get another word out, they filed in, moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine, completely ignoring me—the one who actually lived here.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger and fear.

No answer.

I stepped back, watching them with wide eyes, my breath coming in shallow bursts. Every muscle in my body screamed to run, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” I demanded, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

“We’re here to take all your belongings. You’re moving to the Myers mansion. You’re married to our master now.”

One of the men spoke, and my blood ran cold.

I knew the Myers family was wealthy and capable of tracking me down, but wasn’t it too soon?

I’d barely arrived. It had taken me so long to get here, and now, even though it was already night, they were here, making demands.

“Leave. All of you. I’ll call the police. I’m not going anywhere, and my stuff isn’t moving an inch.” My voice trembled, despite my best effort to sound firm.

This was settled: I wouldn’t move an inch, no matter how much pressure they put on me. Whatever happened, I wasn’t leaving my home.

“Go ahead. Call them.”