Chapter 2

Ellie Stanley POV:

Cassidy, of course, had never wanted the responsibilities that came with being a Robertson bride, only the glamour. She wanted the title, the jewels, the social standing. She didn' t want the quarterly board meetings, the charity event planning, or the endless dinners with stuffy executives that the contract explicitly detailed. She wanted to be a pampered wife, not a corporate asset.

Too bad. Now she was both.

My first stop was the bank. I systematically emptied my trust fund, an account my grandfather had set up for me, untouchable by my mother or the Stanley corporate machine. It wasn't a fortune by their standards, but it was enough. Enough for a new start.

I bought a used sedan with cash, a simple, anonymous car that wouldn' t attract a second glance. Then I drove. I had no destination in mind, only a direction: away.

Hours later, I found myself pulling into a cheap motel off a highway hundreds of miles from home. The room smelled of stale cigarettes and pine-scented cleaner. It was dingy and depressing, but it was also a sanctuary. It was a place where no one knew my name.

That night, lying on the lumpy mattress, I listened to the sound of trucks rumbling past on the interstate. The noise should have been jarring, but it was a lullaby of escape. Just as I was about to drift off, I heard voices from the room next door, thin through the walls. A man and a woman, their tones hushed but laced with affection. I couldn' t make out the words, but the feeling was unmistakable.

A sharp pang of something-envy, maybe-hit me. I quickly pushed it away. I wasn' t running toward love; I was running away from the toxic imitation of it that had defined my entire life.

I fell asleep and dreamed of university campuses, of libraries filled with the scent of old books, of a life I had given up for Jace.

The next morning, I drove to the nearest city and found a small apartment to rent. I spent the day buying secondhand furniture and basic necessities. As I unpacked a box of cheap plates, I overheard a conversation from the open window of the apartment below.

It was a young couple, arguing. Their voices were loud, full of frustration.

"You said you' d be home! I made dinner!" the woman yelled.

"Something came up at work, babe, I couldn' t help it!" the man retorted.

The fight escalated, plates smashed, doors slammed. It was ugly and raw, but in a strange way, it was more real than any conversation I' d ever had with Jace. Their anger was born of expectation, of a shared life hitting a rough patch. My relationship with Jace was a performance, a carefully scripted play where everyone knew their lines, and no one spoke from the heart.

I closed my window, shutting out the noise. I didn't need their drama. I had enough of my own.

A few days later, my new, anonymous life was taking shape. I had enrolled in classes at the local university, starting the MBA program I' d deferred for Jace. The work was challenging, consuming, and I welcomed it. It left no room for looking back.

One afternoon, I was walking back to my apartment from the campus library, my arms loaded with textbooks. As I rounded the corner to my street, I saw a sleek, black town car parked at the curb. My blood ran cold. It was a Robertson family car.

And leaning against it, looking entirely out of place in my rundown neighborhood, was Jace.

He saw me and his face hardened. He pushed off the car and strode towards me, his expensive suit a stark contrast to the cracked pavement.

"Ellie." His voice was low, furious. "What the hell do you think you' re doing?"

The weight of the books in my arms suddenly felt immense. I clutched them tighter, a pathetic shield against the storm I knew was coming.

"I' m going to class," I said, my voice flat.

"Class?" He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "You think this is a game? You ran away. You humiliated me. You humiliated my family."

"I think I did you a favor," I replied, sidestepping him to continue towards my apartment building. "I gave you what you always wanted. You' re legally bound to Cassidy now. Congratulations."

He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Don' t be an idiot. You know that contract was meant for you. Cassidy... Cassidy was a mistake."

His words were meant to soothe, to placate, but they only fueled my disgust. A mistake. He had ruined my life, my heart, for a 'mistake.'

I yanked my arm free. "She' s a mistake you' re having a baby with, Jace. Or did that slip your mind?" I had seen the announcement online, a carefully curated photo of him and a glowing Cassidy, her hand resting on a small but visible baby bump. The caption was a nauseating ode to their 'unexpected blessing.'

His face went pale. He was clearly shocked that I knew. "How did you... It doesn' t matter. We can fix this. We' ll get an annulment. Cassidy will be taken care of. You and I, we can go back to the way things were."

"The way things were?" I stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time. Not as the boy I once loved, or the powerful man he had become, but as a weak, entitled child who thought he could rearrange people' s lives like pieces on a chessboard. "The way things were was a lie. I' m not going back."

I turned and walked away, not waiting for a response. I could feel his eyes on my back, burning with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"You' ll regret this, Ellie!" he shouted after me. "You can' t survive without me! Without your family! I' ll make sure of it!"

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I didn' t flinch. I just kept walking, unlocked the door to my building, and let it slam shut behind me, the sound a final, definitive period on the last chapter of my old life. The confrontation left me shaken, but as I climbed the stairs to my small, quiet apartment, a new feeling began to take root in my chest. It wasn't fear.

It was resolve.