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As the shock began to fade, anger replaced it.
“No. I won’t do this.” I’d stepped back, as if I could run away from this.
But the reality was, I couldn’t.
I’d been homeschooled, and my education was limited. The focus, as if I was some eighteenth-century daughter, was on cooking, keeping a household, and other similar duties.
At twenty-two, I had no work experience. No degree. No tangible skills to earn money.
Ihadno money.
Everything was paid for by my father or supplied for me.
The feeling of being controlled and trapped made me feel like I couldn’t breathe some days. Perhaps that’s why I’ve suffered from asthma all my life.
My chest tightened as I’d kept walking backward and my mother reached for me.
“Kyra. Relax. Come on, calm down.”
My hand flew to my chest as I felt an attack coming on. My lungs tried to pull in gasps of air. The world around me turned into chaos as my mother screamed for our staff to bring an inhaler and my father cursed, rounding his large oak desk.
“Breathe Kyra. For god’s sakes. You cannot act out like this every time you don’t like a decision I make.” He growled.
Act out?
Our housekeeper had run into the room and dropped to the floor, pushing the plastic device to my mouth.
I grappled with it and pressed down, sucking in the medicine. Then again.
My lungs had worked hard, my chest beating like crazy as I struggled to accept the changes about to take place.
I was getting married.
To a man older than my father.
Not quite a child bride, but it was close enough and still revolting.
“Take care of this, Sally,” Dad said, and my mother assured him she would.
Now, two weeks on, all I feel is numb. I’ve cried a million tears and screamed into my pillow.
I tried to come up with a plan to run away and hit a dozen brick walls. I’ve even sought out people to help me get out of this situation.
“Just marry him and then get divorced,” Penny, my best friend, advised. “Make him think you’re into him, get your hands on his money, and then leave.”
As if it’s that simple.
I had a feeling the prenuptial agreement I signed gave away any lingering rights I had left. Of course, when I asked for time to review it, I was chastised.
In front of my future husband.
Who wasted no time showing me exactly how things were going to be when I married him.
“Do you plan to be difficult while we are married, Kyra? I hope not. Derek? I thought you had this covered,” Pierce said, shooting a dark look toward my father.
“She won’t,” my father had replied firmly, glaring at me.
“I can’t sign something I haven’t read. I have rights,” I whispered, glancing at my mother for support.