Chapter 1

The air in the upscale coffee shop felt thick and heavy, sticking to my skin.

Across the small table, my fiancé, Liam Davis, fidgeted with his spoon, his eyes darting between his mother, Susan, and me.

His parents, Susan and Richard, sat like stone statues.

Susan placed her cup down with a soft click that echoed the silence.

"Chloe, dear," she began, her voice dripping with a sweetness I no longer trusted. "We' ve had some time to reconsider the wedding plans."

I was fifteen weeks pregnant.

Just three weeks ago, after we announced the pregnancy, our families had celebrated. We had all agreed on the terms of the marriage. The Davis family would provide a dowry of $380,000, a gesture my parents insisted on not for the money, but as a sign of their commitment and respect for me. We had also booked a lavish ballroom at the city's finest hotel for the reception.

My heart began to beat a little faster.

"After much thought," Susan continued, her smile tight, "we feel a dowry of $52,000 is more appropriate. And a big, stuffy hotel wedding feels so... impersonal. We think a lovely barbecue in our backyard would be much more intimate and meaningful."

The numbers hung in the air. $380,000 slashed to $52,000. A five-star hotel reception downgraded to a backyard barbecue.

I stared at her, then at Richard, who just nodded in agreement, his face a mask of stern seriousness. I looked at Liam, pleading with my eyes for him to say something, to defend me, to defend us.

He just stared down at his spoon, refusing to meet my gaze.

A wave of nausea hit me, and it had nothing to do with my pregnancy.

"I... I need to use the restroom," I managed to say, my voice trembling slightly.

I pushed my chair back and walked on unsteady legs toward the back of the cafe. The hallway was quiet. As I passed a small alcove where the staff kept their supplies, I heard voices from the patio, just outside the thin glass door.

It was Susan' s voice, no longer sweet, but sharp and gloating.

"See? I told you it would be easy," she said, her laugh a harsh cackle. "Look at her face. She was totally stunned."

Richard' s gruff voice joined in. "She' s pregnant. What choice does she have? She' s trapped. Her family won' t want the shame of her having a baby out of wedlock. They' ll accept anything."

"Exactly," Susan chirped. "She has our baby in her belly. She' s not going anywhere. We can save a fortune! That $380,000 was ridiculous anyway. Now she' s just damaged goods we have to take in."

I heard a weak mumble. It was Liam. "Mom, don' t say it like that."

"Oh, stop being so soft, Liam," Susan snapped. "This is for the good of our family. That money is better spent on us, on our future. Not on some flashy party to impress her parents. She should be grateful we' re even marrying her now."

The world tilted. My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp. The cold, hard truth of their words hit me like a physical blow.

Trapped. Damaged goods. A bargaining chip.

My baby, our baby, was just a tool for them to humiliate me and cheat my family. The love I thought Liam had for me, the respect I thought his parents held, it was all a lie. A carefully constructed performance that ended the moment they thought they had me under their control.

I stood there, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, my blood turning to ice in my veins. The initial shock and hurt morphed into something else, something cold and sharp. A quiet, simmering rage began to build in the pit of my stomach.

Confront them? Scream at them? Burst into tears?

No. That' s what they expected. That' s what the "trapped" girl would do.

I took a deep breath, pushing the tears back. I smoothed down my dress, wiped the stunned expression from my face, and replaced it with a mask of fragile disappointment. I would play their game. And I would win.

When I walked back to the table, they all looked up, their faces a mixture of guilt and smug confidence.

I sat down slowly, not looking at anyone in particular. I let the silence stretch out, making them uncomfortable.

Then, I turned to Susan with a small, sad smile.

"A backyard barbecue," I said softly, my voice carefully modulated to sound wistful. "That could be nice. But... the guest list is over two hundred people. Will your backyard be big enough? And what about catering? The company we booked for the hotel is very high-end. They don't do outdoor events."

I was testing them. I wanted to see how they would react to a practical problem, to see the gears of their greed turning.

Susan waved a dismissive hand, her bracelets jangling.

"Oh, don' t you worry your pretty little head about that, Chloe. We' ll just get some burgers and hot dogs. It' s more casual, more fun! People will love it. It' s not about the fancy food, it' s about celebrating love."

Richard grunted in agreement. "It' s about being frugal. A valuable lesson for a young family to learn."

The hypocrisy was so thick I could barely breathe.

Susan reached across the table and patted my hand. Her touch felt like a spider crawling on my skin.

"Chloe, honey, you have to understand. Things are different now. With a baby on the way, our priorities have to shift. A big wedding is just a one-day party, but a family' s financial security is for a lifetime. We' re doing this for you. For Liam. For our precious grandchild."

She looked at me with what she probably thought was a kind, maternal expression. All I saw was a predator, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of a successful hunt.

"This is what's best for everyone," she said, her voice a low, convincing purr. "You see that, don't you?"