Page 90 of Misconducts & Temptation

I couldn't believe what I was reading. William, suing? For what?

Someone bumped into me from behind, jolting me out of my thoughts. I turned to see a fellow student muttering an apology before rushing off. My phone buzzed again.

Breach of contract. Meet me at home. Well, my home. Now.

I stared at the message, feeling a combination of anger and helplessness churn in my stomach. Breach of contract? What contract? This had to be some kind of manipulation, another way for them to control me.

But as much as I wanted to ignore her demand and stay at the library to study for summer midterms, I knew I had no choice. My fingers hovered over the screen before typing out a reluctant response.

Fine.

My phone’s battery icon blinked red, taunting me. If it died before I got home, I’d have no way of contacting anyone. I made a mental note to ask if I could buy a portable battery the next time I had a bit of extra money, though knowing my stepmother, that request would likely be denied.

Except, I didn't answer to her.

My wedding ring gleamed.

Keaton would get one for me.

I sighed and turned back toward the bus stop. The library’s towering facade shrank behind me as I hurried down the sidewalk, my feet pounding against the pavement. A bus screeched to a halt just as I arrived. I hopped on and swiped my pass, making my way to an empty seat near the back.

The drive to my stepmother’s house always felt like a journey into another world. Crestwood Academy, with its sprawling green lawns and elegant buildings, gave way to the gray monotony of the town. The bus snaked through narrow streets lined with dingy storefronts and weathered apartment buildings. The air inside felt thick with the mingled scents of fast food and exhaust fumes.

I watched as we passed by a small park where children played on rusted swings. Their laughter floated in through the cracked window beside me. As we moved further away from Crestwood, the neighborhoods grew rougher. Graffiti adorned brick walls like unwelcome tattoos, and trash littered the sidewalks.

My phone buzzed weakly in my hand. Another text from my stepmother:

Hurry up.

I shoved it back into my pocket, not wanting to waste any more of its precious battery life on her demands. My mind wandered to Keaton, remembering our brief encounter in the locker room. His presence had been a welcome distraction from everything else weighing me down.

The bus hit a pothole, jostling me back to reality. A man sitting across from me muttered something under his breath as he clutched his newspaper tighter. We continued on, stopping and starting with an irregular rhythm that only seemed to prolong the trip.

Eventually, we reached my stop. I stepped off the bus and began the short walk to my stepmother’s house—or rather, her house that she allowed me to live in. Each step felt heavier than the last as I approached the door, dreading whatever new scheme she had cooked up this time.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I took a deep breath and knocked on the front door.

Stephanie answered the door, her eyes narrowing when she saw me. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she wore a pristine white apron over her clothes. There was part of me that relished seeing her regulated to playing butler like I had to for so many years. The satisfaction of watching her do the menial tasks she’d always dumped on me felt good, but then guilt seeped in, and I pushed the bitterness away. I wasn’t like them. I didn’t want to be.

“Finally,” Marion’s sharp voice cut through the hallway as I stepped inside. “The dining room. Now.”

Stephanie turned on her heel without a word, leading me through the familiar maze of hallways to the dining room. The walls were still adorned with photos of my mother’s family, reminders of a time when this house felt like home.

When we reached the dining room, I froze in my tracks. William sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed over his chest, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. The sight of him made my stomach churn.

“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Marion’s eyes bore into me as she pointed to an empty chair across from William. “Sit down, Elodie.”

I took a hesitant step forward, feeling the weight of their stares pressing down on me. This was more than just another one of their schemes—it felt calculated, like they’d been planning this moment for some time.

William leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with something sinister. “We have a lot to discuss.”

William leaned back, his smirk widening as he placed a thick stack of papers on the table in front of me. “A contract was drawn up for our arranged marriage, Elodie. And you’ve breached it.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at the papers. “What do you think I owe you?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

William’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “An amount of money per day that we aren’t married.”

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