Chapter 0004

WASHINGTON, SEATTLE 2022

~ANASTASIA~

I was shocked. Why didn’t William allow me to leave, and most importantly, what made him think I would listen to him?

I knew I was still in love with him, but I knew when to stop. I broke eye contact and freed my arm from his grip.

“You’re not leaving here, Anastasia.”

“Why?” I sounded confident. “Why should I not leave?”

“Because I say so.”

“God…” I couldn’t believe him. I shook my head as I couldn’t find the words to respond. He was full of himself.

“Now go back to the guest room before I lose my patients.” He commanded. I looked at him and then at Jimena, who was as shocked as me as she left the magazine she was pretending to read and fixed her eyes on us now.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you; I mean, sure, I was a fool to fall for you but to think you own me.” I hysterically chuckled.

“I own you. I don’t know if your father told you, but the situation his company is in is not good, and without me, it wouldn’t be a company.”

“Wait, you’re threatening me with my father's company?”

“Yes. If you leave, I will pull out my investments and tell him you made me do it.” He wasn’t even ashamed to say that. How the fuck did I end up marrying him?

"William, what’s wrong with you?” Jimena asked, but he ignored her as he was focused on me.

“Now be a good wife and go back to our room; we will sort this out peacefully." William sounded like he was trying to manipulate me, as his voice was softer than ever.

I shook my head and smiled at how stupid I had been; he really had me for a fool because, on a normal day, I would simply obey and do whatever he says but today isn't that day.

"Good,” he smiled. I don't know what made him think I was doing what he asked, but as I turned and dragged my bag to the door, he immediately stopped me once again and held me back by my arm.

“Let me go.”

“You're making a big mistake.”

“The only mistake I made was to marry you, William.”

“You better listen while I'm being nice, Anna; you know what will happen if I let my devil take control,” he threatened.

“I don't care what happens; let go of my arm now, or I will call the police.”

“You're joking.”’

“You don't know me, William, now...” I forcefully freed my arm and walked to the door without saying another word.

“Don't say I didn't warn you, Anastasia; I'm going to ruin you!” He shouted, but I didn't care; what's the worst that could happen?

Reaching the door, I quickly opened it, afraid that he would stop me, but luckily he didn't. I walked out, and warm tears rolled down my cheeks. I sniffed and held in my cries as I couldn't cry outside.

I didn't have a car and didn't want to go back in there to ask for his car keys because it would just give him and his mistress another reason to look down on me, so I walked out of the gate as I planned to get a cab.

I placed my heavy bag down and reached for my phone, and just when I got it, the same guy from earlier—the one who bailed me out of prison—came.

“Ms. Anastasia?” He called out, and I quickly wiped my tears. “Are you okay?” He asked, and I cleared my throat to speak but could not find the words. I was tired of lying.

“Please go,” I tried to sound okay.

“You know I will be punished if I leave you here.”

“I'm fine, Scott, please.”

“I insist, at least let me give you a ride to where you're going.”

“No, I'm–”

“Please don't make my job difficult, Ms. Anastasia. I promise it's just a ride, then I'll be out of your sight.” He insisted, and somehow it brought a smile to my face as he kept saying this, but it never happened.

I looked down the road. I knew cabs rarely came to this side as most people had their cars, and I didn't want neighbors to find me stranded on the road; they would suspect something and start a rumor on social media, so I nodded and walked to his car while he picked up my bag.

I got in the backseat, my eyes on my phone, as I tried to text Vivienne, my best friend, the one I called earlier, to meet up.

“Oh my god, I've been waiting for thirty minutes now; are you still coming?” Vivienne asked, hearing her voice triggered the tears I was holding in, so I covered my mouth to stop myself from whimpering, “Are you deaf? I said I'm waiting for my friend!” I heard her raise her voice–probably to the waitress; that was Vivi; she was very difficult to handle.

"Yes, I'm fine,” I cleared my voice.

“Are you sure?” She sounded worried.

"Yes, I'm sure I just have the flu. I'm sorry I'm not coming.”

“What? Do you want me to come?”

“No. I… I will speak to you tomorrow.” I was quick to respond.

“Alright, I have to take lunch for Harriot anyway; I will talk to you later,” she said, and I nodded, holding in the tears.

She was taking lunch to Harriot, her husband. Vivi’s life was so easy; she had a good family and a husband who loved her.

I just wondered what she did in her past life that I haven't done because, unlike her, my family disowned me and my husband; well, I couldn't even call him that.

“Do you want to stop by somewhere?” Scott's voice shook me out of my thoughts; I shook my head. “Alright; so–” The ringing of my phone stopped him; it was William.

I canceled as I had nothing to say to him, then it started ringing again and I canceled, then a notification of a message popped up.

‘You have nowhere to go, I called all the hotels. No one will allow you to spend the night at their hotel.’ I read the first message and ignored it.

‘Get back home and let us talk.’

‘I'm only doing this for my daughter. You are the mother of my child, and it will be bad if you spend the night outside and get sick.’ I read the third but shook my head, still not responding.

‘This is your last chance, Anastasia. Not even for Ivy’s sake will stop me from ruining you. You know leaving will attract public interest; now, for the last time, come back home!’ I could imagine his frowny face from the text, then a notification popped up, and it was a tag on social media.

I was curious to see who had tagged me so I quickly went to the post and was shocked to see the headline of the post.

“William Rogers, the CEO of the Rogers enterprise, proposes a divorce to his wife, Anastasia Rogers, the young disowned heiress of the Lancaster family.” I read out loud.

“The public is left with questions on why Mr. Rogers divorced his wife right after his father's death; now if you all remember how their marriage was fishy from the start...”

I quickly went down the comments, and most of them were tags. People were tagging both me and William; it was crazy, but I kept scrolling until a specific tag caught my attention.

My once calmed heart started beating faster again as I saw not only one but two more tagged with the name.

‘Mr. Lancaster,’ my father.

They had just tagged my father, and it must mean he saw it, and if he saw it then I was in trouble—serious trouble—and the last thing I needed was to upset him.

“Fuck!”