After days of silence, Landon Drake suddenly invited me to our Hidden Creek Hideout on our ninth anniversary. When I arrived, rose petals fluttered like snow, and 999 heartfelt letters descended from above. Overwhelmed with joy, I opened one of the letters, only to see the words: “To my dearest love, Talia.” Before I could ask Landon what was going on, I saw Talia Monroe’s Instagram Story: “When the right person loves you, you shine bright! P.S.: Sorry, old lady, for stealing your surprise, but my darling’s love is untouchable!” Is the picture attached? A deed for a house—my wedding house. Stunned, I barely registered Landon storming in, only to launch into a tirade. “She’s just a kid who wanted some romance! Do you have to be so jealous?” Calmly, I tossed the letters and the house keys into his hands. “Well then, congratulations on your wedding. Enjoy.” Content Landon’s grip faltered, and the letters and keys clattered. The sound of the fake keys hitting the ground felt like a dagger to my chest. Fake. Even the keys were fake. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it quickly morphed into righteous indignation. “Maisie, how old are you? And you’re still fighting over stuff meant for a kid? You’ve let me down.” A kid? If I remember correctly, Talia Monroe is two years older than me. It turns out that when loved enough, someone can be pampered like children, no matter their age. I found it laughable and didn’t bother responding. Turning on my heel, I walked away. As I left, memories of the past nine years flooded my mind. We have met in college and have been together since. There have been no dramatic highs or soul-crushing lows, just steady, quiet happiness. Friends often told me to hold on tight to Landon. “He might be a bit old-fashioned, but he’s a good man—faithful and thoughtful in the little things.” And I believed it. His lack of romantic gestures was just part of his personality. Now I realize it wasn’t a matter of personality. I simply wasn’t worth the effort. I called and canceled everything for the wedding. Afterward, I went to Brewer’s Haven Café. I ordered a coffee and a slice of cake. The sweet cream melted on my tongue, a taste I hadn’t indulged in for years. It made my chest ache, and tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. This was my favorite cake. I stopped eating it because Landon said I was getting fat, like a pig. I’ve shortchanged myself so much for so long. I’d barely taken a second bite when Landon called. “Did you just use my Couples Pay account?” I froze, checked my phone, and realized I had accidentally used $58 from his account while paying. I remembered begging him to set up that account with me. The limit was only $100, but I had clung to it, desperate for proof of his love. “Sorry,” I said softly, transferring the money back immediately before unlinking myself from the account. There was a pause. “It’s not about the money,” he said finally. “I’m just trying to teach you to be more independent. Women who rely on men aren’t attractive.” I said nothing. Sensing the awkwardness, he switched topics. “The hotel just called. Did you cancel the wedding banquet?” “Yes.” I took another bite of cake. “Good call,” he said, a rare note of approval in his voice. “Life’s about sincerity, not these meaningless formalities. I’m glad you’re starting to understand.” His shamelessness no longer surprised me. Before I could respond, a message from Talia Monroe popped up on my phone. Landon had taken her for a bridal photo shoot to make up for the surprise he’d promised her. The attached picture showed them holding hands, laughing blissfully. It’s amazing how he found the time to scold me about $58 while doting on her. I let out a bitter laugh. “Landon Drake,” I said aloud, “I thought you’d gotten the message. But since you didn’t, let me clarify. We’re done. Do you understand now?”
I hung up before he could respond. Sipping my coffee, I allowed myself to enjoy a rare moment of peace. I’d expected heartbreak, but what I felt instead was calm—a quiet acceptance of the end of our nine years together. Letting go, for the first time, felt liberating. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Landon. His parents. My dad. My stepmother. I silenced everything, turned off my phone, and enjoyed the silence for the first time in years. That night, I returned home, only for Landon to arrive shortly after. He held a takeout box with half-eaten steak inside. “I brought you some steak,” he announced, placing it on the table. It was leftover from Talia Monroe. I’d seen her Instagram Story: A luxury restaurant where a meal costs at least ten grand. She’d written: “Couldn’t finish it, so might as well feed the stray dogs!” And I was the stray dog. The cold, greasy meat made my stomach churn. The stench of leftover sauce hit my nose, and I couldn’t hold it in—I ran to the sink and retched. “Take it away!” Landon frowned. Only when he saw me vomiting did he finally remove it. “You’re so dramatic.” “Maisie, money doesn’t grow on trees. You’ll need to learn to be frugal when we’re married, right?” I rinsed my mouth and wiped my face. “Be frugal? So you and Talia can enjoy the savings?” His face darkened. Sensing the change, he hesitated before pulling a gift box from behind his back and tossing it toward me. The unsealed box tumbled open, revealing a white lace veil. It was stained. “Talia has great taste. She picked this for you. Consider it my gift—no need for you to pay me back.” He stepped forward, intending to place it on my head, but I stepped back, eyes burning. Landon Drake had never once treated me like a person. “Keep it,” I said, my voice steady. “You’ll need it.” Turning, I headed to the bedroom to pack my things. Before I could close the door, he grabbed my arm with bruising force. I cried out as blood seeped from an old wound on my arm—a knife wound from two weeks ago when I’d shielded him in a fight. The pain was sharp, but his words had cut deeper that day. “Talia was scared,” he had said. “Go to the hospital yourself. I’ll cover half the bill.” Tonight, his eyes showed a fleeting trace of guilt before his phone buzzed, and he hurriedly left the room. Minutes later, Talia’s message lit up my phone: “Can’t sleep. My darling came to tuck me in.” I replied coldly: “Take him. A bitch and her dog—may you last forever.”
After finishing packing, I called Cassidy Bloom. “Maisie, happy birthday! Did you get the gift I sent you?” Cassidy’s cheerful voice bubbled through the phone. Hearing her, my nose stung, and moments later, tears streamed down my face. It was my birthday. Even I had almost forgotten. “What’s wrong, Maisie?” Cassidy’s tone grew concerned, picking up on my sniffles. “I’m just touched. Thank you, Cassidy,” I replied softly. “I want to come to you as soon as I can. Can we finalize the paperwork quickly? Everything else is already sorted, and I don’t need to be there for the rest.” Cassidy’s company had been shifting its operations abroad. Half a month ago, I’d agreed to work overseas with her. I had planned to tell Landon, but after getting hurt, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him. Even this morning, at Hidden Creek Hideout, I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Perhaps he does love me. Looking back, I realize I was deluding myself. Cassidy paused on the other end of the line but didn’t press me. “I’ll get everything ready,” she said decisively. After hanging up, I hired movers to clear out everything I had decorated in the house. It was laughable. Landon had always insisted on splitting everything equally, yet he constantly implied I was freeloading. The truth? I had paid for most of it. I worked late into the night, finishing just after 2 a.m. As the movers left, Cassidy called to confirm my flight. Three days. Standing in the now-empty room, I exhaled deeply, feeling an unexpected weight lift. Then my phone buzzed. Landon. “Talia’s stomach is upset. That soup you make is great for that—could you cook some and bring it over?” “Don’t overthink it. I just saw her as a kid. Spend more time with her—you’ll see. Wouldn’t having a kid as pretty as her someday be great?” “I wouldn’t mind if you had one with her,” I said flatly. There was a long silence on the other end. Landon seemed at a loss for words, perhaps even preparing to yell at me, but restrained himself, likely thinking of Talia. “Don’t be like this, Maisie. If I did have one with her, you’d probably cry your eyes out,” he said with a sigh. “I just want you to be kinder.” I ended the call without another word, knowing he fully expected me to attend. But I didn’t. Instead, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The following day, I drove to Silverstone, Indiana—back to my hometown. I bought my mom’s favorite bouquet of lilies and placed them at her grave. “Mom,” I whispered, gently tracing her photo. I hadn’t planned to cry, but the moment I saw her face, the tears came unbidden. “I might not be coming back. Maybe not ever.” My voice cracked. “Forgive me, Mom.” The words had barely left my lips when a sharp pain jolted through my scalp. I was yanked backward and slammed to the ground. It was Laura Braxton. SLAP. She struck me hard across the face. “Don’t mess with me! I’ve already taken Landon’s dowry. If it gets taken back, I’ll kill you!” Clutching my stinging cheek, I stood and grabbed a handful of her hair in return. Before I could retaliate further, Frank Bellamy stormed over and slapped me across the face again. “You ungrateful little brat!” he roared. “Listen to your mother—she only wants what’s best for you.” I stared at their twisted faces, and in a haze, I saw Landon standing in the distance. He was watching, smirking at my misery. I heard his voice, calm and cruel. “Maisie Bellamy, no one else will ever want you.”
I fixed my gaze on Landon, my mind swirling with disbelief. “What’s with that look?” he snapped. “Maisie, you’re almost thirty and still act so immature.” “Do you know what your stepmother said to me?” he continued. “She said if you don’t marry me, she’ll marry you off to Kendrick. Do you remember when he forced himself on you while your dad just stood there? That desperation you felt?” “Maisie, don’t forget—it wasn’t me begging to marry you. It was you chasing after me.” He smirked, his eyes glinting with mockery. His words cut deep, but I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. I had once called him my knight in shining armor. Someone who had swooped in, dazzling and brave, to rescue me from the darkness. But that same knight had returned, not to save me, but to join my tormentors. The irony was almost too much. But Landon seemed to have forgotten one thing. Before I met him, I had been perfectly capable of defending myself—fighting back against those who tried to hurt me. Right then, his phone rang, and Talia Monroe’s voice came through, high-pitched and demanding. “Baby, you promised to bring her here to apologize. Everyone’s waiting! Don’t disappoint me, or I’ll be mad at you!” Landon lowered his voice, soothing her before hanging up and turning to me. “She’s sensitive about appearances,” he explained. “You upset her stomach yesterday. All I’m asking is for you to apologize and smooth things over. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” So this wasn’t even about me. It was about salvaging her pride. I’d always known my place in his life, but after nine years, the pain still hit with surprising force. He dragged me to the car before I could protest and drove me to the restaurant. All eyes turned to me inside the private suite, their gazes filled with amusement. “Well, it looks like Maisie decided to skip makeup today. Did she slap herself for some color?” Talia sneered, sending the room into laughter. Landon’s grip on my arm tightened, but I didn’t fight it. I let him lead me to a seat on the sofa. I glanced at Talia, my tone calm and detached. “I’m 28. You’re 30, aren’t you? Talia, the crow’s feet are already showing. Stop pretending to be younger than you are—you’re fooling no one.” Her face blanched, and tears welled in her eyes. She turned to Landon, clutching his arm dramatically. “See? This is what you call an apology? She’s doing this on purpose to humiliate me!” “Maisie, apologize!” Landon barked, his tone icy. I stayed silent. Sighing, he turned to Talia with exaggerated gentleness. “Baby, don’t cry. It’s my fault, okay? Punish me however you like.” “Really?” she sniffled, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. “You said Maisie’s hair always clogs the floor and drives you crazy. Why not shave it off for her?”
When Kendrick Braxton tried to force himself on me, I made a massive scene. Laura Braxton’s carefully curated image as the “sweet, caring stepmom” crumbled in front of everyone. Furious, she accused me of seducing her son. She then had my father tie me up like an animal and shave my hair off with scissors. She even scraped off my eyebrows. If my screams hadn’t drawn the neighbors’ attention, she might have gone through with her threat to carve words into my face. From then on, every strand of hair that fell to the floor earned me another beating. I spent years with a cropped head, my humiliation on full display. People looked down on me. Ridiculed me. When I shared this with Landon Drake, I had hoped for sympathy, but he turned my suffering into a joke for Talia Monroe’s amusement. Nine years. I thought he might hesitate. But he immediately called for scissors when he realized shaving my head would make Talia happy. Instinctively, I moved toward the door, but his friends blocked my path. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Maisie, you upset the little princess. You deserve to be punished.” Landon walked toward me, calm and unbothered. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. But making her smile? That’s priceless.” At his signal, his friends pinned me down. I thrashed and struggled as Talia gleefully approached, her eyes glinting triumphantly. My anger boiled over, and as I flailed, my nail accidentally grazed her arm. It didn’t even leave a mark. But that tiny scratch was enough to send Landon into a rage. He stormed over and kicked me in the stomach so hard I flew into the door. Pain erupted through my abdomen, a sharp, unbearable cramp spreading. I felt something warm and wet pooling beneath me. At that moment, I knew. Grabbing Landon’s arm, I begged him through tears, “Please, save our baby.” But he didn’t care. He stayed focused on Talia, holding her hand while cutting my hair. The blades scraped against my scalp, the pain excruciating. Warm blood trickled down my face, mixing with my tears. A gasp broke through the laughter. “Blood! She’s bleeding!” Landon didn’t even glance back. “It’s just a scratch. Patch it up later.” “No, Landon—look at the floor! There’s so much blood!” His tone faltered as he finally turned around. The sight of the blood pooling beneath me made him freeze. “Maisie…” I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him, blood and sorrow blurring my vision. “Congratulations, Landon Drake.” “You’ve just killed your child.”
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