One Marriage Pact, All That Was Gone

Introduction: Seven years of devotion ended in a very public betrayal. Her fiancé cheated on her with an up-and-coming actress. Not only did he force her to call off their engagement, but he also exposed her inability to have children to the world. Back at the Bennett family home, she was used as a bargaining chip once again, pressured to marry a notoriously violent and ill-tempered heir in San Francisco who had a disability affecting both legs. This time, Claire Bennett did not fight back. She agreed to the arranged marriage, trading her own future for her younger sister’s freedom—and a chance to escape New York and the man who had hurt her so deeply. Everyone thought it was merely a marriage of convenience, with each getting something out of the arrangement. But no one knew what unexpected turn of fate lay behind this marriage. Claire’s POV Three hours earlier, I had received a call from Julian Prescott. It was the first time he had reached out to me since our fight three months ago. His voice over the phone was as cool and aloof as ever, his words brief. “Claire Bennett, come to the Emerald Bay villa. We need to talk.” Then he hung up. He gave me no chance to ask any questions. As always, he simply expected obedience, as though he were giving orders to his dog. I had to admit that, for a moment, a ripple stirred the stagnant water in my heart, despite all my efforts to keep it still. After all, I had been that dog for seven years. I even stood in front of the mirror and carefully covered the faint shadows beneath my eyes with my most expensive concealer. I put on his favorite perfume and changed into the white dress he had once said looked beautiful on me. Seven years of love, of endless compromises and concessions, had trained me into a pathetic habit. All he had to do was crook a finger, and I would run to him like a trained pet, my tail wagging. Even when I knew another carefully planned humiliation might be waiting for me. The car came to a smooth stop outside the Emerald Bay villa. When Henry, the butler, saw me, something complicated crossed his face. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but held back. My heart lurched, but I still smiled and nodded at him before walking straight inside. In the foyer, an unfamiliar pair of pink heels lay askew on the floor. A man’s suit jacket and tie were scattered beside them. I stopped. I did not cry or make a scene. My expression did not even change. I simply changed into slippers in silence and climbed to the second floor, one step at a time. I knew every corner of this villa so well that I could have found his study with my eyes closed. The study door was ajar. Muffled, intimate sounds drifted from inside, followed by a girl’s coy complaint. “Julian Prescott, you’re so bad… You’ve made me all swollen down there…” I pushed open the door without expression. Inside, Julian Prescott had his arms wrapped around a girl who looked very young. Her face was buried against his chest, leaving only a stretch of pale neck exposed. Several buttons on his shirt were undone. His usually immaculate hair was mussed, and a smile full of desire and indulgence curved his lips. He looked up at the sound. The moment he saw me, his smile vanished, replaced by impatience and irritation. “Claire Bennett, who said you could come in without knocking?” The girl in his arms lifted her head timidly, like a startled fawn. Her face was sweet and innocent, her eyes large and round. Now shimmering with tears, they gazed at me, making her look pitiful and vulnerable. I recognized her. Chloe Reed, a sophomore in film school who had recently gained some attention through a web series. My social media account still showed the traces of my personally stepping in to defend her against posts attacking her. Julian Prescott had told me she was a promising up-and-coming actress and asked me to look out for her. So this was how he was looking out for her. “Julian Prescott, who’s this?” Chloe Reed’s voice was as soft and sweet as cotton candy, with just the right touch of fear. Julian Prescott ignored her. He merely straightened his clothes at an unhurried pace, then turned his gaze to me. “Since you’ve seen for yourself, there’s no point hiding it.” He took a velvet box from a drawer and tossed it onto the desk in front of me. “Here. Take this back.” I looked down. A pair of rings rested inside the box. Julian’s grandmother had given them to us when we got engaged. Julian Prescott’s indifferent voice sounded above me. “I want to marry Chloe, so let’s call off the engagement.” Not a trace of guilt. Not a moment’s hesitation. I stopped looking at the rings and let my gaze settle on my left wrist. Around it was a silver bracelet Julian Prescott had given me for my eighteenth birthday. He had told me to wear it for the rest of my life, just as he would stay by my side for the rest of his. In seven years, I had never taken it off. I raised my eyes and looked at him calmly. “Understood.” My composure seemed to surprise him. His brows drew together slightly. Then, as if something had occurred to him, his voice took on its familiar mocking edge. “What, no scene this time? I thought you’d cry and threaten me like you always do. Claire Bennett, those tricks get old.” I said nothing. I simply held out my left hand and began struggling to pull off the bracelet. I had worn it for too long. It scraped my skin raw, leaving it red and burning. Beside him, Chloe Reed covered her mouth in feigned surprise. “Claire Bennett, please don’t do this. Julian Prescott didn’t mean it that way. You’ll only hurt him if you hurt yourself.” It sounded like a performance—and a provocation. Sure enough, Julian Prescott’s gaze turned cold. He walked over and seized my wrist. “Claire Bennett, what game are you playing now?” I sucked in a breath at the pain, but I smiled. “Julian Prescott.” I spoke his name clearly. “You’re the one who wanted to call off the engagement. This bracelet belongs to the Prescott family. Isn’t returning it exactly what I should do?” He stared at me, as if searching my face for even the slightest hint that I was putting on an act. But he found nothing. There was nothing on my face except the tears brought on by the pain. So this was how a heart died. Without a sound. At last, he let go, his eyes unreadable. Using every bit of strength I had, I endured the searing pain and finally pulled the bracelet off my wrist. An ugly red mark stood out starkly against my skin. I gently set the bracelet on the desk beside the rings. “Mr. Prescott, Ms. Reed, congratulations on your upcoming marriage. May you be happy together forever.” With that, I turned and walked out of the study without a backward glance. As I drove away, I finally lost the fight to hold back my tears, and they spilled down my face. Seven years, it turned out, lasted no longer than a slap. Loud, and painful.