I picked up the packet, shoved it into my bag, and went to work the next day like nothing had happened. I signed the transfer papers he pushed in front of me without even reading them. My signature stayed steady.
Because I learned quickly—I couldn’t fight him yet.
Not openly.
So I played the role he wanted. I managed his mess, paid for his nights, smiled when I had to. All the while, I collected everything I could—documents, investor connections, leverage. Let him think I was obedient. Let him think I was still his.
But inside, I was already planning my exit.
I was going to leave.
And I was going to take everything he depended on with me.
When I told my father, I expected anger or at least understanding. Instead, his expression turned cold, almost disappointed.
“It’s your responsibility to keep your husband in line,” he said sharply. “Divorce is out of the question. Not now. The alliance matters too much.”
My chest tightened. “You want me to stay with him after everything he’s done? He literally sold me—”
“You know what’s at stake,” he interrupted. “Sometimes you don’t get to choose what’s right for you.”
I left before I broke down completely.
The only place I could go was Bianca’s house.