Page 62 of Ensnared
“Mind your business, Vaughn?” I shot back, my nerves already frayed. “I don’t have time to argue with you.”
Before I could react, he swept me up into his arms, carrying me into the sitting room. I struggled in his grip, but he held me tight.
“Give me one last kiss as a single woman,” he begged, his voice softening as he set me down.
I shook my head, backing away from him. “I can’t do that, Vaughn. I never should’ve let it happen in the first place. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
But Vaughn wasn’t ready to let me go. He pinned me to the wall with his body, his breath hot against my skin. “When he’s inside you tonight, you’ll wish it was me. He’ll never treat you like you deserve.”
His words hit me like a slap, but I forced myself to stay calm. “You’re getting engaged next month,” I reminded him, my voice icy. “You’ll have your own unhappy marriage to be part of.”
“And I’ll be miserable seeing you with him,” he countered, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “I’m asking you for the last time, don’t marry him.”
I pushed against his chest, sliding around the wall to put some distance between us. “It’s done, Vaughn. In a few hours, I’ll be married.”
Leaving him standing there, I slipped out of the room and rushed to Colson’s office. My heart was pounding as I opened the closet door, searching for the sewing box. I found it quickly enough, but something else caught my eye—a file box marked SHAW.
Curiosity flared inside me, and despite the urgency of my situation, I couldn’t resist. I flipped open the top and pulled out a thick file with my grandfather’s name, Albert Shaw, scrawled in red marker.
Albert Shaw—the last of the wealthy Shaws. The man who had squandered his fortune, leaving nothing for my father’s Yale tuition. It was the reason my father had to abandon hisdreams and start working for the Ashworths, tending to their landscaping, never to leave.
Time was slipping away, and I knew my mother needed every minute to fix my dress. But I couldn’t tear myself away from the file. What I found inside made my blood run cold. The Ashworths—this family I was about to marry into—were responsible for my family’s financial downfall. The truth was laid out in black and white, a betrayal that burned deep into my soul.
I shoved the folder back into the box, my hands trembling with a mix of rage and disbelief. This was more than just a wedding now; it was a betrayal. A sick twist of fate that had me tied to the very people who had destroyed my family. As I slammed the lid shut, I made a silent vow: I would have my revenge. No matter what it took, I would make the Ashworths pay for what they had done.
The End
Book 1
Click here to order Entrapped – Book 2 of The Bitter Vow Series and check out an excerpt below as Josephine navigates her new life as Mrs. Ashworth.
The morning air was crisp, filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers as I stepped outside onto the great lawn. The bright sun, casting a golden glow over the hundreds of white chairs lined in perfect rows.
Guests filled them, their murmurs a soft hum beneath the gentle strains of classical music. The altar, a grand structure adorned with ivy and white roses, stood at the end of the long aisle, a beautiful lie waiting to consume me.
My parents stood on either side of me, their arms linked with mine. My father looked at me with a mixture of pride and emotion, while my mother gave me a reassuring smile, her eyes glistening with tears.
They were happy, blissfully unaware of the truth I had uncovered just hours before. The truth that Colson Ashworth, the man waiting for me at the end of this aisle, was part of the family that had destroyed ours.
I could barely feel the ground beneath my feet as we started down the aisle. My body moved on autopilot, each step taking me closer to a future I no longer wanted. The guests rose from their seats, turning to watch me with admiration and joy. But all I could think about was the file I had found in Colson’s office, the cold, hard evidence of how his father had ruined my grandfather, leaving us with nothing.
Colson stood at the altar, looking every bit the part of the perfect groom. His dark hair was neatly combed, his suit impeccably tailored, and his smile warm and inviting. But to me, he was nothing more than a predator, a man who had taken everything from me and now sought to claim me as his final prize.
As we reached the altar, my father pressed a kiss to my cheek, and my mother gave my hand one last squeeze before stepping back. I was alone now, standing before Colson, who reached out to take my hand. His touch was firm, possessive, and I had to force myself not to recoil. The pastor smiled at us both, his voice deep and steady as he began the ceremony.
The words flowed over me, a blur of promises and platitudes that I couldn’t focus on. The pastor spoke of love, commitment, and the sanctity of marriage, but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears, the deafening echo of my own thoughts. I imagined the life I could have had if not for the Ashworths, the opportunities stolen from my family, the struggles we had endured because of their greed.
Colson squeezed my hand, a gentle reminder to focus, as the pastor turned to him for his vows. His voice was smooth, confident, filled with promises that made my stomach churn. He vowed to love, cherish, and honor me, his words like venom seeping into my soul. I stared at him, seeing not the handsome, charming man everyone else saw, but the architect of my family’s downfall.
When it was my turn to speak, my throat tightened. The vows I had rehearsed so many times suddenly felt foreign, like a betrayal of everything I had ever wanted. But with the eyes of hundreds of guests on me, I forced the words out, each one a lie that tasted bitter on my tongue. I vowed to love, to cherish, to honor him, knowing that in my heart, I could never truly mean it.
The pastor smiled, satisfied, and declared us husband and wife. Colson leaned in to kiss me, and I braced myself as his lips met mine. The crowd erupted in applause, the music swelled, and I forced a smile as we turned to face our guests, hand in hand.
But inside, I was hollow, consumed by the knowledge of what had been taken from me. This wasn’t a celebration—it was a funeral for the life I should have had. As we walked back down the aisle, past the smiling faces and shower of rose petals, I knew that I was now Mrs. Josephine Ashworth, bound to a man and a family that had taken everything from me. And as I looked at Colson beside me, I made a silent vow of my own: I would find a way to make the Ashworths pay for what they had done, no matter the cost.
