Chapter 4

Aubrey froze, a flicker of something-maybe guilt-crossing his face. His eyes fell on my frayed cuffs.

He cleared his throat, his voice turning cold again to cover his discomfort. "I' ll make it up to you later. Just let it go for now."

"I' ll give it to you, Eva," Kennedy said, her voice dripping with false sincerity as she started to fidget with the zipper. "I don' t want you and Aubrey to fight because of me."

Before Aubrey could praise her generosity, I cut her off. "No, thanks. I don' t wear other people' s hand-me-downs."

I stood up, grabbing my keys. "I have to go out for a bit. You two can talk."

"Where are you going?" Aubrey demanded. "I told you to make soup. I have a chicken in the fridge."

For the first time, I didn't obey. I didn't even look at him.

"I have something important to do," I said, walking toward the door. "You can make it yourself."

I knew he couldn' t. In all the years I' d known him, he had never cooked a meal. He wouldn' t even know how to turn on the stove.

I ignored the fury building in his eyes and walked out, closing the door firmly behind me.

I did have something important to do.

I had to buy a train ticket.

I stood in line all night in the biting wind. People pushed and shoved, desperate. By the time I finally reached the counter, my body was numb with cold and exhaustion, but I had it. A one-way ticket to California, leaving in two days.

I dragged my aching body home as the sun rose.

Aubrey was waiting for me, his face a thundercloud.

"Where were you all night?" he snapped. "Kennedy and I were worried sick!"

He pointed a dramatic finger toward the bedroom. "She went out looking for you and fell. She twisted her ankle! It' s all your fault!"

I glanced into the bedroom. Kennedy was on the bed, her ankle propped up on a pillow, a pained expression on her face.

"It' s not your fault, Aubrey," she said weakly, playing her part to perfection. "Eva was just... upset. I shouldn' t have worried her."

Aubrey's face grew even darker.

"Apologize to her. Now."

I laughed. A real, genuine laugh this time. It felt good. "No."

He launched into a lecture. "A woman needs to know how to manage her household. If you can't even handle this, how can you stand by my side?"

Then he played his trump card. "If you don' t apologize, this engagement is over."

A flicker of pure joy lit up Kennedy' s eyes before she could hide it.

My hand tightened into a fist. My plan. My escape. He was threatening the very thing I wanted, but if I agreed too easily, he'd get suspicious. He would find a way to stop me from leaving. I knew him. He couldn' t stand losing control.

I couldn' t risk it. I couldn' t risk him finding out about Stanford.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed my pride one last time. For the future.

"Fine," I said, my voice tight. "I' ll apologize."

His expression immediately softened, a smug satisfaction replacing the anger.

"That' s more like it," he said, nodding. "A woman who knows her place, who is generous and forgiving-that is the only kind of woman worthy of being my wife."

I walked to the side of the bed and looked down at Kennedy. I gave a deep, formal bow.

"I' m sorry," I said, my voice dripping with an irony only I could appreciate. "I was wrong. I won' t be jealous of the care you receive from Aubrey anymore. You two are so close, after all."

Aubrey frowned, sensing something was off in my tone, but he couldn' t quite place it. He was too pleased with his victory.

"Good," he said. "Now that that' s settled, we can still get married."

I looked up, my eyes completely empty. "Yes," I said.

Kennedy forced a smile, but her eyes were dark with resentment. She hadn't gotten what she wanted.

Not yet.