Chapter Four

Present

“W e have to go shopping, River! We are so partying tonight!” She grins at me, her beautiful heterochromia eyes glinting.

I find myself smiling back at my best friend. Summer’s dark hair cascades down her shoulders in waves and reaches to her hips. She’s wearing hot pink shorts and orange top with neon green bucket hat.

She is a complete opposite of mine. And I’m not referring to her obsession with bright colors. We are different in many ways. Take our heights for instance. She has a frame of a model because she is around 5’9” and has facial features that should be on a magazine cover. I on the other hand am petite with thick dark curls that reaches to the small of my back and most of the time refuses to behave.

I’ve often been told that I possess a haunting beauty, one with a touch of melancholy woven into its essence. My pale green eyes, in particular, seem to hold a perpetual hint of sadness whereas Summer’s unique eyes are the source of sunshine.

She is always hyperactive unlike me. And her voice raises an octave higher when she is excited. Like now.

I met Summer on my wedding anniversary over a month ago. The exact same day when my delusions and the world I was living in came crashing down. We met by chance and bonded immediately.

We might be polar opposites. But that’s why we fit so well together. Our friendship may have bloomed in a saddest point of our lives, but I couldn’t have been luckier.

“Earth to Riverrrr!” Summer sings loudly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Her gasp is so loud and dramatic it makes me chuckle. She drops on the couch beside me before throwing an arm over my shoulders.

“You promised you’d do as I say.”

I nod. “I did, yes.”

“Then why are you overthinking again?” She narrows her eyes. I open my mouth to speak but she beats me to it. “You insisted on not talking about your marriage and about the time when you just disappeared into thin air for a month and I respected that. You showed up this morning at my doorstep with a suitcase and dark circles which told me you didn’t sleep for days on end and yet, I didn’t question you even when I was dying with worry.” She turns her body to me and covers my hands with hers. “Look, River, I don’t know what’s happening in your life right now, but there are signs that tells me enough. If you need help, you know I’m here for you, right?”

I swallow thickly and nod. She squeezes my hands. “You wear your heart on your sleeve and it kills me to see you like this.”

“I’m okay—”

She shakes her head and gives me a sad smile. “And you’re a terrible liar too.”

We both stay silent for a few beats before she speaks again, “If you can’t tell me what is it that’s bothering you, then you have to stop thinking about it all together and focus on us as you promised.”

“ Woof! ” Summer’s cute golden retriever puppy jumps on her lap, as if agreeing with her.

I take him in my arms and snuggle my cheek in his soft fur. “But I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“Who said about going out anyway?” She grins wider before excitedly planning for a house party. It’s our first New Year together, and she’s practically buzzing with energy about the night.

“How many people are you inviting?” I ask quietly. The thought of being around a crowd isn’t something I’m ready for. But for her, I’m willing to make an exception. I just hope it won’t be too much.

“Including you?”

I nod.

“One,” she says matter-of-factly.

I stare at her for a beat before letting out a laugh.

“Sounds perfect,” I say, letting her drag me along on a shopping trip.

She took me to a couple of thrift stores and bought things that had me side eyeing her. She blissfully ignored me the entire time, whisking me from one place to another. Grinning mischievously, rubbing her hands every time she found a unique item to buy.

At one point, I was mortified when she hopped on a shopping cart with Goldie and asked me to film. When the staff caught us, I was shaking, but Summer was doubled over with laughter.

She grabbed my hand, and we ended up running out of that store. The whole thing was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

“You’re crazy!” I gasped once we were safe outside. She beamed, her pride shining through. “I know, and you love my crazy, bestie.”

I shook my head, smiling.

She bumped her shoulder with mine. “You do, admit it!”

“No,” I suppressed my smile and she gasped loudly. Then plopped on the tarmac, pouting.

My eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Protesting.” She deadpanned.

“Okay, okay! I do love your crazy and silly tactics! Now get up before you get us arrested!”

She made me repeat it before getting up and we finally returned to her place.

“Do you trust me?” she asks as we walk into her apartment building, our hands full of shopping bags.

Summer is all about color. She wears it like no one else, often mixing shades that don’t quite match, but somehow, only she can pull it off. Honestly, I bet if she wore a burlap sack, she’d still slay it. But me? I’ve always stuck to muted, lighter colors—Summer calls them ‘boring’ and I guess she’s right. They’ve always mirrored my life.

Judging by our shopping spree, I have no doubt she’s planning to replace my beige dress with something much bolder.

To answer her question, I give her a sheepish smile before muttering, “Yes?”

She gasps. “That was a question! I’m deeply hurt, River Gibson!” She takes two steps ahead then stops. She looks at me over her shoulder. “Don’t talk to me,” she juts her chin then resumes walking only to stop two seconds later. Turning, she gawks at me. “Wooow, so you’re not even going to stop me?”

I smile as I go to her. “You can’t shut up for even a minute, Summer.” Looping my arm with hers, I haul her toward the elevator.

She opens her mouth and my smile grows.

“Wanna bet?” I raise a brow.

When she furrows her brow, I motion toward the dog carrier bag I am carrying over my shoulders. “If I win, Goldie is mine.”

Her eyes go round. “Keep my pup out of this!”

“There you go.” I turn my head and stare at the cute face panting just beside mine. “You’re mine now.”

“That’s cheating. You can’t bring my son into this. And besides, you shouldn’t rile me up. It’s not helping your case after you just admitted that YOU DON’T TRUST ME!” I wince as we both board the waiting elevator.

“I didn’t say that.” I suppress my smile.

“You so did.” She gives me the stink eye. “Need I remind you, you offered me your apartment which I’m now living in when we first met? To a stranger. You didn’t think twice before handing me the keys back then.”

“That was different,” I say, glancing at Summer. “You needed a place, and I just happened to have a vacant apartment.”

She’s living in the apartment I called home during my college days, a place filled with so many memories. It’s dear to me, and I can’t think of anyone more worthy than my best friend to be here.

“Which you offered to a stranger .”

“We weren’t really strangers by then,” I say gently. Her face softens. Then in another breath, “Even so, it’s still weird that you are down to trust me with your apartment but not your clothes.”

“So you are admitting those flashy dresses and accessories are for me.”

She shakes her head. “Not just for you.” She grins and saunters out as the elevator door opens.

I glance at Goldie with wide eyes. “I’m scared.”

He barks in response, as if agreeing with me, making me laugh.

◆◆◆

As soon as we enter the apartment, Summer grabs the shopping bags from my hands and vanishes into her room.

A few moments later, she reappears, whips up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and sets it in front of me.

“Eat.” She orders.

“But we had lunch,” I murmur, my cheeks warming as I remember how her worried eyes kept scanning my dark circles and sunken cheeks. A few times, I caught her almost blurting out questions about my appearance, but she held back. Summer has this motherly instinct when it comes to me. She forgets sometimes that I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman—just five years younger than her. She has her own struggles, her own hardships. Yet she never lets them show, always treating me like a child.

Others might find it unusual but for me, it’s everything. Growing up I never really had a friend. Apart from Dad and my governess, no one cared about me. Not even my husband, for whom I left my dad for. So having Summer care for me feels wonderful.

She is an orphan. Apart from his foster brother, Raleigh, she had no one in her corner. But now she has me. We both provide emotional support to each other. Which leads her to sometime lecturing me about my habit of skipping meals. Like right now.

“And when was that?”

“About an hour ago.”

“That means you need to eat.”

“I don’t—”

“You picked at your food the entire time.” She pushes the plate forward on the coffee table. “Finish this so we can get to the good part.”

She keeps guard until I finish the last bite then claps her hands in glee. “Now let’s get to your makeover.”

“O-kay.”

“You gotta close your eyes though!” She announces.

She was so adamant about surprising me that she even helped me change. The entire process was so amusing. Especially when she was reprimanding me for wiggling too much.

I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much. Like a real laugh where tears roll down your cheeks. The kind where you can’t breathe and your sides hurt.

It felt pretty amazing. She kept feeding me her chocolates and snacks throughout the process of my makeover. When I complained about being full, she glared at me. But still didn’t once mention my obvious weight loss. I was more grateful to her in that moment than I’d ever been.

Somewhere along the way we began sipping margaritas. As a result, we are tipsy.

“No peeping!” Summer grumbles as I try to peek through her fingers that are wrapped over my eyes.

“I wasn’t.”

“You can’t bluff the bluffer.” She stumbles over something and in turn, making me wobble. We might’ve consumed one too many margaritas.

“Okay, okay.” I hold my free hand in surrender, knowing full well arguing with her would result in both of us falling.

She walks me three more steps ahead before stopping me. “Okaaay, now I’m lowering my hand. But don’t open your eyes just yet.”

I wait patiently as she lowers her hand, I feel her breath around my face and I’m pretty sure she is checking if my eyes are still closed.

“Okay! Now you can see!”

We are standing in front of a huge floor-length mirror in the living room.

With wide eyes, I take in my sexy little red dress. Then her sparkly golden one.

A giggle escapes me. “I look silly.” I’m not referring to the dress. It fits me like a glove, and I admit, it looks great on me. The reason behind my amusement is the blue wig hiding my thick curls.

She grins at our reflection, her eyes meeting mine through the mirror, and I can’t help but burst out laughing. She’s wearing a wig just like mine—shoulder-length hair with bangs. The only difference is the color. Hers is bright red.

Tilting her chin up, she arches a brow. “You don’t like my hair?”

I bite down on my lips, trying to stifle a laugh as I watch her tuck a strand of bright red hair behind her ear, her wig sitting slightly askew. She tugs at it a little too hard, and it slips right off her head.

I snort and begin laughing again.

“Don’t laugh!” She tries to right her wig, huffing.

Watching her struggle sends me into a fit of laughter. I clutch my sides, barely able to breathe, as she grows red with frustration, huffing and muttering under her breath.

“Stop right this second, or I’ll snatch your wig,” she warns, lunging at me. I quickly step back, barely dodging her. Whoa—I almost lose my balance.

I eye her unsteady stance, amusement tugging at my lips. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” she slurs.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, trying to keep straight faces, but then the laughter bursts out. It only gets worse when she scoops up Goldie, who’s sporting a hot pink wig.

Alcohol has unraveled me, easing the tight grip of pain I’ve been carrying. The ache that once consumed me is fading and I can finally breathe again.

I begin dancing the night away with my best friend and Goldie. The dark living room is glimmering with the lights of the disco ball hanging from the ceiling, giving the vibe of a night club.

Like my very own cheer leader, Summer lauds and praises me as I really start to move.

At one point, my wig slides down and my curls tumble down and fall all around me.

We laugh and sing the lyrics of the songs out loud, uncaring about how awfully loud we are. The clock read two in the morning an hour ago. Which means it’s way too late. My body is slowly losing the energy, but we aren’t stopping.

“So are you going to travel some more?” she asks, sliding her silver star-shaped sunglasses she bought for the party over her eyes.

I take off my pink heart-shaped glasses, the question sobering me a bit. It reminds of someone I’ve been trying to forget.

My husband.

Drugging Damian’s food was relatively easier than I imagined. He underestimated me a great deal. He never thought I would be brave enough to do something like that which only worked in my favor.

I acted my role of a timid wife, begged him to eat with me and saw the opportunity to mix the powdered sleeping pill into his soup and waited until he passed out.

Damian had everything meticulously planned. He thought handling me would be easy, which is why he didn’t bother having his men patrol outside the suite. His overconfidence worked in my favor, and I was lucky enough to seize the moment.

When I first ran from the mansion, deceiving his guards, I felt nothing. I was numb, my body moving on autopilot. But leaving Damian behind— that felt different. I felt very guilty and the regret and emptiness had drowned me.

After all, I still love him. You can’t just turn off feelings like a switch, no matter how much you try. They stay with you, lingering in the corners of your mind. Love doesn’t simply disappear, no matter how hard you fight it. It lingers, twisting inside you like a constant reminder of what you once had and what you’ve left behind.

When I married him, I believed, with all my heart and soul, that our relationship was sealed. For eternity. The thought of saying goodbye to him never even crossed my mind. I couldn’t imagine a life without him, not even in my worst nightmares. He was my forever, and I never thought I’d have to let go.

In these three weeks, all the money I had from selling my diamond studs, slowly dwindled away. Each day, the balance grew smaller, and with it, my hope.

I wanted to reach out to Dad. Several times, I even dialed his number, my finger hovering over the call button, but I always aborted it before it connected. What would I say to him? I had chosen love over the billion-dollar empire waiting for me as an heiress, turned my back on wealth and privilege just to marry Damian. I did this to myself. I had no right to go back to him, no face to show after everything I had thrown away.

My anxiety was spiraling. I could barely manage a couple of hours of sleep each night. All I wanted was to bury myself under the covers and never wake up. Nothing seemed to help. The grief was overwhelming, so much so that I had to fly back to L.A. just to be with Summer, to hold onto my sanity.

She asked me about my travel plans, but I knew the truth. I wasn’t running anymore. Running from him had proved useless. He’d made that clear in Paris by tracking me so easily.

But after I ran again, after drugging him, three weeks of radio silence made me believe he had already given up on me. As much as that thought hurt, there was a strange sense of relief too.

Maybe chasing down the wife he never wanted wasn’t something he was willing to waste his precious time on.

Before I can answer Summer, a knock at the door grabs my attention. I frown, glancing at her. “Expecting anyone?”

She shakes her head, a little too hard, sending her bright red wig spinning around her face. It’s barely staying on. “Nope. Are you?”

“No one even knows I’m in L.A., Summer.”

“Then who is it?”

The second knock is louder, more urgent, and Goldie lets out a frantic bark before sprinting down the hall, likely off to hide under her bed. Summer’s eyes go wide, and she starts hyperventilating, her breath coming in short gasps as she bolts after him.

I just watch, swaying, trying not to fall over as I follow her with my eyes.

Then, she comes flying back out of her room, baseball bat in hand like she’s ready to face off with some intruder. I blink, almost toppling over myself, but she catches me just in time, steadying me.

She shoves me onto the couch. “Sit tight,” she says, sounding like a superhero in a badly fitting wig and huge glasses. “I’ll be back.” Without waiting for a response, she slams the music off, her red wig almost falling off in the process, and storms toward the door like she’s about to take on a whole army.

I try to get up, but my body, already exhausted, refuses to cooperate. I lean back, close my eyes, and massage my temples, hoping the throbbing in my head will subside.

Then, the door crashes open with a loud bang, making Summer jump and causing my heart to freeze for a split second before it starts pounding wildly in my chest. Wide-eyed, I scramble to my feet, my legs wobbly from the alcohol and the sudden rush of panic.

“Where’s my wife?”

My movements freeze at the deep voice, every muscle in my body locking in place. I don’t dare turn to face the owner of that voice. Fear tightens in my chest, gripping me from the inside out.

“Excuse me?” I hear Summer’s startled tone.

“My wife. Where is she?”

The bite in the tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. A burst of anxiety hits me right in the gut. This can’t be happening right now.

Damian. He has found me once again.

But why did he choose this moment to come for me, after three long weeks? Was it a deliberate delay, a calculated move to make me believe I’m safe before revealing his presence? Is he once again playing mind games, toying with my head in his own mysterious way?

Regardless, my time has run out. He is done playing with me. And has cornered me when my guard was down. A cold sweat breaks out all over me. Holding my breath, I slowly begin to turn. Fingernails dig in my palm as I come face to face with my nightmare. My husband.

A gasp is ripped from my throat at the sight of him. My heart plummets to my stomach as his dark eyes lock onto mine, drilling into me over Summer’s shoulder.

He moves past Summer with a predator’s grace, prowling toward me. Each step he takes matches the frantic thumping of my heart, growing louder as the distance between us shrinks.

His face is harder than the last time I saw him. The stubble on his sharp jawline is darker, more pronounced. Even now, at this hour, he wears a black three-piece Armani suit, the fabric stretching tightly over his muscular frame, emphasizing his intimidating presence, suffocating the room with his dominance.

He steps closer, and I force myself not to step back. His gaze sweeps down my short dress, his eyes darkening with every inch they travel, before slowly returning to my face. He reaches up, his hand gentle as it cups my cheek, and his voice is soft when he speaks. “I’ve been looking for you, angel.” But the softness vanishes as he hardens, his words turning cold and menacing. “How dare you run from me?”

A bone-chilling cold settles in my stomach, the blood draining from my face. Immobilized under his stare, I try to speak, “Da?”

He presses a calloused finger against my lips, his touch prickling my skin with goosebumps. “Shh… we’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you home first.”

I take a hasty step back.

He stalks toward me. “Tsk. Tsk. That’s not wise.”

I take a few unsteady steps back, my pulse racing, but he closes the gap in an instant. Before I can react, his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. “You have no idea how angry I am. You shouldn’t test me now, angel.”

My anger surfaces. “Let go of me. I am not going anywhere with you!”

“Oh, I don’t remember asking you.”

His response only probes the wounded self-respect of mine. It’s a slap to the face, a brutal reminder of how much I’d bent myself for him, how I let him walk all over me.

“Fuck you.” My hands slam against his chest, but it feels like pressing against pure steel beneath his black shirt. I push with everything I have, but he doesn’t budge. Not a single inch.

Tears of frustration gather in my eyes.

“Where are your rings?”

“I threw them away.” My voice is small.

After drugging Damian that night, I couldn’t stand anything that reminded me of him. So, in a fit of desperation and anger, I tossed my wedding band and the eight-carat engagement ring into the trashcan at the airport. It tore me apart to do it, because I had cherished those rings. They weren’t just jewelry; they were symbols of him, of our love—my very own fairytale. At least, that’s what I used to believe. The loss still hurts, but now all I feel is a new wave of rage crashing over me.

“You are in a lot of trouble.”

“Get out!” I cry out, struggling again.

Summer marches toward us, her posture stiff with irritation, though her face is still hidden behind the oversized party glasses she’s been wearing all night. I can practically feel the scowl radiating off her. “You heard her, buddy.”

There’s dead silence for several heartbeats before he turns his head to look at her. Without a word, he slides his gaze back to me. “Let’s not trouble your friend any longer. We can talk about this at home.”

I whimper when his fingers dig into my skin. Damian pauses, noticing the way I flinch, and with a sudden shift, he loosens his grip. The small gesture makes my heart believe that he might care. But I know better than to let myself hope.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I stare at him with unshed tears. “I am not coming. I’ve told you that. I want a divorce. I?”

He’s suddenly crowding my personal space, pressing his body against mine. A muscle flexes hard in his jaw. “Divorce?”

I lift my chin. “Yes.” I’m grateful that my voice doesn’t tremble even when my heart is racing impossibly fast.

His face is expressionless but his eyes. Something dangerous burns in those eyes at my response. It makes me shudder.

His breath skates over my face, his intoxicating smell enveloping me. Reminding me of the powerful hold he has on me and my body. The dull ache in my core is the proof.

Damian is my kryptonite. Now that I’ve told him about the divorce, I have to get as far away from him as possible. And hopefully he will let me. Apart from being ruthless he is also prideful. He won’t have a woman against her wishes. He can have anyone, and I mean anyone he wants. He has women begging to please him so he can easily let me go.

“Well, until we get a divorce, you’re my wife, aren’t you?” His calm reply sends a chill down my spine. I don’t get a chance to answer as he jerks my left hand up and thrusts something on my ring finger.

“Where did you get them?” I gasp as I stare down at my rings. The same set I threw away.

“Doesn’t matter.”

I’m still gaping at the rings when he bends and lifts me in his arms, bridal style. “Put me down!”

“No.”

With ease, he strides toward the door carrying me.