Chapter 09

RICHARD’S POV.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the smooth jazz from the speakers fill the room. We sat in the bar lounge in the mansion.

Martins sat across from me, swirling his wine like he always did when he was about to say something serious.

I could see that look in his eyes—the one that said he was about to dig into things I didn’t want to talk about.

“You know,” he started, his voice low, “sometimes I feel pity for her. Sarah didn’t deserve all that.”

“Pity?” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, harsh and cold. “For her?” I shook my head, taking a long sip of my own wine.

The taste was bitter on my tongue, but it matched the mood. “I don’t feel anything for Sarah, except maybe... hatred.”

Martins raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not buying it. “Hatred? Come on, Rich. She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” I shot him a look. Was he serious? I stared down at my glass, watching the red liquid swirl.

“You know how this all started, don't you?” I felt the anger rise in me again, just thinking about it.

“Back in high school, I was with Susan. She was... well, she was everything. Confident, strong, not some clingy little girl who followed me around like a lost puppy.”I could feel the disgust creep into my voice.

“Then my dad and her dad got this bright idea—‘Hey, let's marry off our kids and strengthen our business ties.’ Like I was just some piece in their game.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Martins said, but I could hear the sympathy in his voice. It irritated me. “But Sarah—”

“Sarah,” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “Sarah was obsessed. It was disgusting. She made it so obvious.”

I could see her in my mind, always there, always looking at me with those wide eyes. “Always jumping on me, clinging like I was the air she needed to breathe.”

I continued. “Everywhere I turned, there she was. Smiling, blushing, trying to get my attention. And everyone thought it was cute.” I let out a bitter laugh.

“Cute? It was pathetic. Unlike Susan. Susan knew what she wanted. She had pride. She didn’t throw herself at me like Sarah did.”

“So, you hated her for liking you?” Martins asked, his voice annoyingly calm.

I leaned forward, my grip tightening around the glass. “I hated that she made it so easy for them to control me. My father used her feelings to push this marriage.”

“She could have refused to get married to me, but no, she decided to say yes.” I felt my jaw tighten as the memories flashed through my mind.

“It was like I was trapped in some twisted fairy tale, where everyone wanted the perfect love story. But it wasn't love. Not for me.”

“You could’ve told her,” Martins said quietly. “You could’ve made her understand.”

“Understand?” I scoffed, setting my glass down with a thud. “What was the point? She was so blind, so hopeful. Even if I told her, she’d just keep trying.”

“She never saw the real me. She just saw the version of me she wanted.” I looked away, staring at the flickering candle on the table. “I was just the prize at the end of her silly dream.”

Martins sighed, rubbing his temples. “And Susan? You still think she’s the one?”

“Susan…” Her name felt like a lifeline. “Susan understands. She's not weak like Sarah. She knows what she wants, and she's not afraid to go after it. She's not some fragile little flower.”

“But she’s not with you now,” Martins pointed out. “Sarah was.”

I felt a jolt of anger at his words. “Yeah, well, that was the deal, wasn’t it? I married Sarah to keep everyone happy. To fulfill my father’s wish.”

I forced a laugh, though it sounded bitter even to my ears. “And look where that got me.”

I felt the rage flare up inside me at the mere thought of it. The old man—Sarah’s father—was the real reason I was stuck in this mess.

“He was the one who killed my father, even if no one wanted to admit it.”

Martins was staring at me, his eyes searching for something. Understanding, maybe? I didn't care.

“Richard,” he began slowly, like he was picking his words carefully. “You know it was an accident. They didn't plan for it to happen.”

I glared at him, my fingers digging into the armrest of my chair. “Accident? He was the one driving, Martins! They drove themselves to death at the prospect of bonding their precious families together.”

“My father trusted him, and look where that got him—six feet under!” My voice was cold, each word like a knife cutting through the air.

“If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened."

Martins rubbed his forehead, looking more tired than before. “You could have rejected Sarah after that, you know. Both your fathers were gone. No one would have stopped you.”

I shot him a sharp look, my eyes narrowing. “As if you didn't know,” I snapped. He was my best friend; of course, he knew the full story.

“It wasn't just about our fathers. It was about my grandfather, too. The moment Dad died, he took over and made sure I couldn’t get out of this trap.”

Martins leaned back, listening, but he didn't say anything this time. He knew I was just getting started.

“My grandfather told me straight up,” I continued, my voice laced with bitterness.

“‘You marry Sarah,’ I refused, of course. Told him I already had someone I wanted to marry. Susan. But he didn’t care. He said the only way to claim my inheritance was to marry her. Did I have a choice?”

“Your grandfather was a stubborn man,” Martins said quietly.

“Stubborn? That's putting it mildly.” I let out a harsh laugh. “He practically held my life hostage. Marry Sarah, or lose everything. Those were my choices. And he made it clear there wouldn't be a third option.”

It felt as if those years were replaying itself. The frustration, the anger, the feeling of being caged.

My grandfather died a year after I married Sarah. A whole year I had to endure that sham of a marriage, just to keep everything in line.

But the moment he passed, I was free. Free to divorce her and live my life the way I wanted.

“And that's exactly what I did,” I muttered, more to myself than to Martins. “The second he was out of the picture, I filed those papers. I wasn't going to waste another second.”

Martins just sat there, staring at his glass. He always supported Sarah, but he didn't have a choice when I requested for a divorce.

It was either his best friend of many decades or Sarah.