On my wedding night, I crawled under the bed, my veil still caught in my hair, giggling – one last silly prank before I became a wife. The door cre:aked. My husband’s voice came through, warm… then my mother-in-law’s voice cut through like ice. “Have you given it to her yet?” she hissed.

“She’ll sign whatever we put in front of her if we tell her she already agreed.”

“She’s an orphan with a pretty face and a trust fund,” his mother said coldly. “Girls like her are meant to be controlled.”

My fingers dug into the carpet.

Controlled.

That was what they thought I was. A soft little bride. A lonely woman desperate for family. A fool who had mistaken polished cruelty for love.

Daniel walked toward the vanity. I heard a drawer scrape open.

“The transfer forms are here,” he said. “Once her shares are in my name, the board will approve the merger.”

“And the house?” his mother asked.

“Sold by Friday.”

She chuckled. “Your father always said marrying rich was better than working hard.”

I closed my eyes.

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