8: THE PRINCESS AND THE CASTLE

The suitcase’s wheels thudded softly against each stair as I descended, my bag weighing down one shoulder while my heart weighed down the other. I felt... numb. Maybe it was the exhaustion of crying myself dry the night before or the sting of Ethan’s mother’s words echoing in my mind. Maybe it was the fact that I was leaving behind this mess I should never have stepped into in the first place.

The hum of the idling Uber engine outside reached my ears. My ticket out of this ridiculous situation was just steps away. Freedom, peace, and a chance to pretend none of this ever happened—it was all waiting on the other side of that door.

I reached for the knob, my fingers gripping it tightly, and twisted.

The door didn’t move.

I frowned, twisting it again. Harder. It didn’t budge.

I checked the kitchen and back doors, they were all locked.

“What the hell?” I muttered, leaning my weight against it in frustration.

The door that led to the garage was my last hope and I ran to it with all the strength I could muster.

Still locked.

That sick bastard definitely did this to get a rise out of me.

My chest tightened as annoyance boiled under my skin. I fumbled for my phone, my thumb trembling as I scrolled through my contacts. When I reached Ethan’s name, I hesitated.

Calling him felt like admitting defeat, but what other choice did I have?

I hit dial.

The phone rang three times before his voice, curt and emotionless, came through the line. “What is it, Madison?”

My jaw tightened. He didn’t even try to hide the irritation in his tone.

“The door is locked,” I snapped. “Where is the key.”

There was silence on the other end. I could hear his shallow breathing, the faint sound of something—papers, maybe—being shuffled. Then, without a word, the line went dead.

He’d hung up on me.

I stared at the phone in disbelief, the call log mocking me. My chest tightened further, this time with a bitter mixture of anger and humiliation.

“Unbelievable,” I hissed under my breath.

I grew tensed as the uber driver continously honked from the yard.

Ethan wanted to play dirty, I too can play dirty.

I pulled out my phone and dialled 911. It took a few seconds before the dispatcher responded.

"911, what's your emergency?" The lady's smooth voice sounded from the other end of the line.

"My ex husband has kidnapped me, he has me locked away in his mansion, I need help" I rambled.

"You need to calm down, Ma'am. What's your name and do you know the address of where you are at?" She asked calmly.

"Yes. My name is Maddy and, it's at 143b Lakeview heights drive".

The line went dead for a while and I could sense the hesitation from the dispatcher.

"Hello" I called out.

She remained silent for a few seconds before finally speaking up.

"We would send a police officer to your location in a few minutes, try to remain calm and stay where you are" she instructed.

"Okay, please be quick before he returns from work" I replied before hanging up.

I texted the uber driver to wait a few minutes and I remained at the door, awaiting the police officer's arrival.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into an hour.

I called again and my call was immediately redirected.

"The fuck?" I muttered as I tried dialing the number again.

Same thing.

I hissed in anger. My phone buzzed and a text message appeared on my screen.

    Put down the phone and go back to your room.

The text was from Ethan’s number. That Fucking dumbass. I hated him so much.

Go to your room? Who the hell did he think he was.

Suck my dick!!

I replied.

I waited several minutes before my phone buzzed again.

Language, Mrs. King.

See you at dinner, wear something nice.

Was he dumb?

Had he lost his sense of reasoning. My actions lately should have made it clear I was no longer interested in this fake marriage.

Dragging my suitcase to the couch, I dropped it with a loud thud and slumped down beside it. Fine. If he wanted to be petty, so could I. I wasn’t about to bang on his study door and beg for a key like some desperate fool.

But as the minutes passed, exhaustion crept in. My eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it, I was slouched on the couch, my head leaning awkwardly against the armrest.

~

The faint smell of coffee pulled me from the depths of sleep. Blinking groggily, I sat up, wincing at the crick in my neck.

My suitcase was gone.

Panic shot through me as I scrambled to my feet, my eyes darting around the room. I distinctly remembered leaving it right there by the couch.

Without thinking, I bolted up the stairs to my room. The door, which I’d left ajar, creaked as I pushed it open.

My suitcase was back, neatly placed by the closet. My clothes, which I’d shoved into it in a fit of frustration, were now perfectly hung up. My bag was perched on the bed, its contents untouched.

My hands clenched into fists as the realization hit me. Ethan.

He’d done this.

My cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and something I couldn’t quite name. Embarrassment? Resentment? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he’d crossed a line.

For the next week, the house turned into a silent battleground. We moved like strangers, each avoiding the other’s path. I spent most of my time locked in my room or leaving early for work, while Ethan buried himself in his study or disappeared for hours at a time.

The silence was deafening. Yet, every time I thought about breaking it, my pride got in the way.

I was sitted in the living room, my eyes focused on my laptop and my arms crossed tightly across my chest, when Ethan’s lawyer arrived. He was a tall, wiry man with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and an air of cold professionalism.

I abandoned my work and followed closely behind him.

Ethan was already seated at the head of the table when I entered, his expression unreadable as he skimmed through a stack of neatly printed papers spread out in front of him.

“This is the final draft of the agreement,” the lawyer began, adjusting his glasses as he flipped through the pages. “It includes the terms of your arrangement and the timeline for dissolution. If both parties agree, we can proceed with signatures.”

I slid into the chair furthest from Ethan, folding my hands in my lap as my eyes flicked over the documents.

The silence stretched on as Ethan scanned the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration. I could feel his gaze on me every so often, but I refused to meet his eyes.

“Is there a problem?” the lawyer asked, his pen poised over a blank form.

“No,” Ethan replied smoothly. “It’s fine.”

His voice was calm, detached. It grated on my nerves.

“Fine?” I repeated, my tone sharper than I intended. “That’s all you have to say?”

Ethan’s eyes finally met mine, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe—passing through them before his usual mask of indifference returned. “What else do you want me to say, Madison?”

I slammed the papers onto the table, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. “Oh, I don’t know, Ethan. Maybe an apology for locking me in your damn house? For dragging me into this mess in the first place?”

The lawyer cleared his throat awkwardly, but neither of us paid him any attention.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his hands resting casually on the armrests as he regarded me with that infuriating calm. “You agreed to this mess, remember? Or should I remind you why?”

My cheeks flushed, heat rising to my face. He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

“Don’t act like you’re doing me some grand favor,” I shot back, my voice trembling with barely contained anger. “You’re just as stuck in this as I am.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but then he glanced at the lawyer and seemed to think better of it.

The lawyer adjusted his glasses, clearly uncomfortable. “Perhaps we should take a moment to—”

“No,” I said firmly, my gaze locked on Ethan. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Ethan nodded curtly, and the room fell silent again as we both picked up our pens.

As I signed my name on the dotted line, a strange mix of emotions swirled in my chest—relief, anger, sadness, and something else I couldn’t quite name.

"You know you were supposed to read through it before signing, right?" Ethan said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I don't give a fuck" I spat as I shoved the papers to him.

His expression changed to what seemed to be content or mischief, it was hard to tell.

"Please excuse us Arthur, my wife and I would love to look through the agreement privately" Ethan said to his lawyer who nodded curtly and left the dinner table and settled into a couch in the living room.

Once he was completely out of sight, Ethan stood up, grabbed the documents and slammed them in front of me.

"Open it, Madison" he commanded.

"You're not going to boss me around, so, no!" I retorted.

"You've already signed, whatever is inside doesn't matter anymore, does it Madison?"

The way he said it made me feel uneasy. It was beyond stupid to sign a contract without reading through it.

What if I had just signed away my freedom?