This wasn’t the dress I would pick for my wedding. This wasn’t how I would style my hair. The makeup was clownish. The flowers were roses. I didn’t particularly care for roses.
So maybe this wasn’t me.
There was a brief knock on the door before it opened. Evan walked into the dressing area without asking permission. I made a mental note when I moved into his home, I would need to make sure all the rooms had locks I could control. Just in case he decided to surprise me with his presence.
“Excellent,” he said. “You’re ready on time. I despise tardiness. You should know that when you’re expected to attend events with me.”
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” I said dully.
He smirked. “I’m not worried about my luck. They’ll be starting the ceremony soon. Your father is on his way to collect you. I just wanted to make sure there would be no surprises.”
“I told you there wouldn’t be.”
Shortly after I knew what I needed to do, I set up a meeting with Evan. The agreement was simple. I played my part docilely, and I earned a modicum of freedom. This included being allowed to visit Marc in prison. Having gotten what he wanted from me—my total obedience and willingness to turn a blind eye to any and all of his activities—Evan had agreed.
“It would be helpful if you didn’t look like you were marching to your death while walking down the aisle.”
Except that was exactly what I was doing. I was headed toward my inevitable death. I knew it, even if he didn’t.
“I’ll smile,” I assured him.
He looked like he wanted to say more, threaten more, but really, there was no point. He was getting the wife he wanted. Marc was in jail, or at least would be in a few hours. He was surrendering himself today at Fort Dix. The timing wasn’t lost on either of us.
George and his attorney were with him. I’d written him a letter that George would give to him. The thought of it, of him reading it in jail, broke my heart.
Tomorrow, George was resigning his position. Arthur would be furious, no doubt, but George would make it clear he’d only stuck around as long as he had, so he could watch over me.
If I wasn’t on the estate, there was no point for him to be. He planned to rent an apartment for the next year so he could stay close to Marc. Then, once Marc was free, George would retire to North Carolina. He’d said I could leave Evan and join him there, which was sweet, but not nearly thorough enough.
No, leaving Evan had to be final.
Another knock on the door, and, this time, Arthur popped his head in. “They’re ready for you, Evan.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes, my dear. Remember, smile.”
I flashed my fakest smile and it seemed to appease him. He left, then it was just me and Arthur. From a few feet away, I could already smell the booze on him. I wondered vaguely if I was the reason he’d started drinking. If some semblance of guilt had driven him to it. It didn’t matter.
“You look lovely—”
“Stop,” I ordered him. “This isn’t a happy day. You are not my father. You’re the man selling me into slavery with that horrible person. There’s no point in small talk. Are we understood?”
He grimaced, but said nothing. I picked up my bouquet, forced my arm through his, and said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You’ll never want for anything. Evan’s money, it’s endless.”
I turned my head toward the man who used to say that everything he did was for my protection.
“I want you to know the only good thing about this day is I’ll never have to see you again. So, when you see pictures of me smiling, know I was thinking about that.”
Then I bent over and spat on his shoes.
Another grimace, but he didn’t say a word after that. Not when he handed me over to Evan. Not when we had the traditional father-daughter dance at the reception. Not when Evan drove us away to his home in Harborview after the guests had started to depart.
I went to the bedroom Evan had declared was mine. As he’d told me previously, he had no interest in me sexually, so I wasn’t concerned about him trying to follow me. Still, I locked the door and laid on the bed looking up at the ceiling, wondering if Marc felt exactly like I did in that moment.
Nearly hopeless.
Nearly.
16
Fort Dix
Two weeks after the wedding
Marc
“I told George to tell you that you didn’t have to come.”
Ash tilted her head like what I’d said confused her.
“Of course, I have to be here. I have to see you. Every other week. That’s my deal.”
“That’s your deal with Evan. Not with me. I don’t like you seeing me in here. In this fucking orange jumpsuit. It shames me. Can you understand that?”
We were sitting at a table in the visitor’s room on Sunday. I was allowed one visitor a week, outside of legal counsel, and Ash and George had decided to take turns. This was Ash’s first visit, and it burned in a way I hadn’t expected.
It hadn’t bothered me when Entwhistle had visited, which he had once, just to check in with me. Or George last week. But sitting across the table from Ash seemed sacrilegious. Like her breathing the contagious, toxic air around here would send her into an asthmatic fit.
“No,” she said, stubbornly leaning forward but careful not to reach for my hand. There was no touching allowed during the visit. A hug at the beginning and end of the visit only. Anything else, guards got suspicious contraband was being passed.
Not that I needed anything. Ash made sure I had access to all the money the commissary would let me keep in my account. The second I used it to buy anything, it was replenished.
I bought cigarettes, even though I didn’t smoke, just to have jail currency. Not that I needed it. There wasn’t anyone in this place scarier than I was. Given my surly attitude and the anger I walked around with daily, I was probably the most badass of the criminal suits.
Most of the men in here looked lost. Wandering around trying to overcome their cell phone withdrawal. Talking only about how they were going to recover the money as soon as they got out.
Hell, I was getting more tips for investments from inside jail than I had working at Landen’s hedge fund.
“No?” I repeated. Like that was some kind of an answer.
“You can’t be ashamed because you did nothing wrong.”
“I took two thousand dollars out of an account,” I reminded her. To what end? Our marriage, according to Sanderson, was null and void. Now she was married to that bastard and there was nothing I could do about it.
“It was your money. You earned it and you know it. Besides, you did it to save me.”
“Yeah, how is that working out for you?”
I winced at my tone. I sounded bitter and angry, which I was. But while I was serving my time with a bunch of white collar criminals who couldn’t hurt me if they tried, she was serving her time with someone I knew was violent with her.
Although he’d lied to me about wanting to fuck her. It was the first thing Ash had assured me of in her letter. He had no sexual interest in her at all. The marriage was nothing more than cover for him.