Page 59 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

MINA

I didn’t want to open my eyes. The sun was too bright. It was too early. I didn’t know how early, but it felt like it was the ass crack of dawn. My eyes were closed, but I wasn’t asleep. I could see and feel the sun coming through the blinds. Isaac’s place had tinted windows.

But I wasn’t at Isaac’s place. Isaac’s penthouse that was supposed to be my home when we got back from our honeymoon in a couple of weeks.

I’d barely slept. I’d cried until I had no more tears, stared at the ceiling for hours while Tori slept in the other room.

I finally drifted into a restless half-sleep sometime after four.

My brain felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry on the floor.

I felt frayed, brittle, and my brain was barely functioning.

I stared at the ceiling, memories of yesterday playing like a broken record. My wedding day. The day that was supposed to be the beginning of my happily ever after had instead become the day I discovered my entire relationship was built on a lie.

I’d spent hours getting ready. The makeup artist had fussed over my face while my hair was being styled.

Everyone kept telling me how beautiful I looked, how happy Isaac would be when he saw me.

I remember feeling nervous but excited. I remember thinking about our future together—our home, our family, our baby.

And silly me, I had been the one freaking out about keeping a secret from him.

I couldn’t walk down that aisle with such a huge secret between us.

The look on his face when I showed him those tiny booties?

For a moment, everything felt perfect. He’d seemed genuinely happy, excited even.

But there had been something in his eyes.

I now understood what that look had been for. I wasn’t crazy. It really happened.

My stomach churned at the memory. Hearing my father congratulate Isaac on fulfilling his end of the bargain had nearly destroyed me.

Maybe it did. I wasn’t sure. Getting a baby to complete the contract just made it feel so gross.

As if I were nothing but a broodmare. As if our child was just a business transaction.

I remembered the look on Isaac’s face when he saw me standing there. The color had drained from his face. He’d known. He’d known all along.

A fresh wave of pain rolled over me. I couldn’t believe this was my life. How did this keep happening to me? What did I do wrong in this life or a past life to deserve this?

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Oddly enough, when Tori brought my phone back to the penthouse, I expected to see a hundred missed calls and texts from Isaac. There was nothing. Tori told me she saw him and he looked devastated. That was some comfort.

The phone buzzed again. Maybe he was calling now. No. It was texts. If it was him calling, it would be a persistent buzzing.

I should change my number. I knew it was going to be a firestorm of media, and people I rarely talked to would all be reaching out.

They would pretend to care, but in truth, it was all about getting the inside scoop.

I knew my life would be front page news for the next few days or, God forbid, weeks.

I reached for my phone with every intention of turning it off. But I looked at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number at first. Then I did.

Sampson .

I debated whether to look at the message. Did I really want to start the first day after the worst day of my life with a message from the man responsible for the original worst day of my life?

I finally opened it.

I saw the articles. Just wanted to say I hope you’re okay. I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear from me, but I need you to know something.

I blinked, my heart going cold.

Another message followed right after.

I knew your dad was pulling the strings. About this marriage. This whole engagement. I knew it was a sham from the start.

My stomach turned. A nauseating kind of clarity settled in my chest like cement. I sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, and kept reading.

I wanted to warn you. I did. But I figured you wouldn’t believe me anyway. After everything…

He didn’t have to elaborate. After cheating on me. After humiliating me. After standing silently while my father did PR gymnastics to protect his reputation. Yeah, he was probably right. I wouldn’t have believed a word that came out of his mouth. He was a cheating bastard.

And yet, he knew.

He knew what they were doing to me. He knew I was being manipulated and he said nothing .

As I held the phone, another message came through.

I know you probably hate me. I get it. But I’m not the enemy here. I’m trying to do you a favor by telling you the truth.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the pillows. That word again.

Favor .

Like the one Isaac did for my father, charming me into falling for him. Like the one Sampson thought he was doing now, acting like he was entitled to some gold star for honesty that came years too late.

I didn’t respond.

I didn’t want to respond.

The texts kept coming.

You’re ignoring me? After everything? I didn’t have to tell you any of this. I could’ve just sat back and watched you make the same mistake again.

I’m doing the right thing now. The least you could do is acknowledge that.

That was it. I’d had enough.

My fingers shook as I typed, but I kept the message short.

If you were a good person, you would’ve told me this a long time ago. Without expecting anything in return. Don’t text me again.

Then I blocked him.

I dropped the phone onto the comforter and sat there in silence for a minute, staring at the wall and contemplating what to do next.

I had no idea. Going home felt like it would be wrong.

My first thought was to disappear. But that didn’t solve anything.

But maybe for a while. I could go to France.

Or maybe the Bahamas. I could really use some sun and the beach.

I let out a long sigh. I could go to the Hamptons house. But I didn’t want to be anywhere my father could get to me. I was pissed at him.

Furious. Outraged. I didn’t have the right word to describe what I was feeling. It was all the feelings wrapped up in one ball of hell that had settled in my stomach.

Last night, I would have loved to crawl into a bottle and drown my sorrows. Unfortunately, Mr. Bean in the belly meant I had to raw dog this latest crisis.

I took a deep breath and decided to get up, start anew and see what fresh hell the day had in store for me. That meant taking a shower and washing away the eight pounds of hair product and three pounds of makeup that was likely still on my face. Not in the right place, but somewhere on my face.

I threw off the blankets and made my way into the adjoining bathroom.

It was huge. And Tori had grabbed my shampoo and other toiletries.

I turned on the water and stepped underneath the spray.

I stood under the stream and closed my eyes until my skin was red and my skin started to wrinkle.

I didn’t cry again, but I thought about it. I thought about everything.

About how much of my life wasn’t mine. About how much I hadn’t seen coming.

About my own naivety. I prided myself on being a smart, savvy woman but I just kept getting played.

At some point, I was going to have to learn.

Clearly, it wasn’t working. Was I destined to get engaged and jilted for the rest of my life?

That didn’t seem fair. I knew life wasn’t fair, but why should I have to get the short end of the stick in the love department?

Was it because I was wealthy? I didn’t get to have love and wealth?

I stepped out of the shower and dressed in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized shirt. Tori must have known I was not going to be interested in dressing up. She brought comfy clothes. The kind of clothes that a girl could lounge around and cry in.

I walked into the living room to find a note from Tori. She had gone out to grab groceries and promised to be quick. Last night she told me she was going to do it. I insisted she use my credit card. I didn’t pay the damn bill. My father did. Every month. Without fail.

Had he and Isaac talked about that? Was Isaac going to take over my upkeep?

Had they sat in a room together with a spreadsheet of my spending habits and laughed about how expensive I was? Had they calculated the cost of marrying me like I was a line item in some merger? The thought made my stomach twist.

Did they rehearse what Isaac would say to me? His opening line? The way he’d look at me in the restaurant that first date? Our first kiss?

Our first… god.

Ew.

Tori returned about twenty minutes later and found me sitting on the couch with damp hair and an untouched granola bar in my lap. I was freaking out. Spiraling. Circling the drain.

“You okay?” she asked cautiously.

“Do you think they planned our first kiss?” I asked flatly.

Tori blinked, grocery bags still in her arms. “What?”

“Do you think they got together and mapped it out?”

“Mina,” Tori said.

“Look smoldering but kind of troubled, she’ll eat that up.”

“Mina,” she repeated, dropping the bags and hurrying over to the couch. “You’re going nuts.”

“No, I’m connecting dots.”

“You’re making yourself crazy.”

“I’m already there!” My voice cracked as I rubbed my hands down my face. “Tori, they had my whole life planned out for me without consulting me once.”

Tori sat down beside me and took my hand. “I don’t think it was that detailed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t. But I know Isaac. And I know you. And I seriously doubt he plotted your first kiss.”

“But you do think he knew,” I said, staring at her. “About the deal. About the arrangement.”

Tori hesitated. Then she gave a soft nod. “He said as much.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said hollowly.

“You deserve answers. And when you’re ready, you should ask for them. They owe you that much.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sit in a room with them again. How am I ever going to look them in the eye after what they did to me?”

“You don’t have to do it today,” she said gently. “But when you are ready, I’ll be right beside you. Take time. Heal. Get your footing under you.”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I believed her. Not because I didn’t trust her —I did. But because I wasn’t sure I could do it without breaking down. Or screaming. Or walking out all over again. Tori made a good point. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not yet.

I picked up my phone and opened the texts. His name sat at the top of my recent messages. He was always at the top. We messaged all the time. At least, we used to. My thumb hovered over it for a few seconds.

And then I did it. I blocked him. A sharp, sudden sense of relief washed over me. There was something empowering about blocking him. I was the one in control now. He could feel broken and worried. Let him stew in the mess he created.

I tossed the phone away and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. My body still felt sore with hurt, but it was changing now. It wasn’t just pain anymore.

It was anger. It was fury. I didn’t understand why they went to such trouble. Why so many grown men sat around a table and decided this was the way to handle my life. I knew Isaac had gotten something out of it. And they were going to make sure I got a kid to keep me busy. Keep me out of the way.