Freedom from Wedding Trap

The kitchen in the Perry mansion was always coldest at dawn. I stood at the marble countertop, my fingers trembling slightly as I arranged fresh-cut flowers beside the silver breakfast platters. Four hours of sleep had become my new normal—just enough to keep functioning while juggling Danny's needs, Sarah's medical appointments, and my duties as Duke's... whatever I was to him now.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed six times. Right on schedule.

"Katherine." Duke's voice cut through the morning quiet like a blade. He never used my name with warmth anymore.

I turned, careful to keep my expression neutral as he entered with Skylar clinging to his arm. She wore a cream silk blouse that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, her blonde hair styled in perfect waves that bounced as she walked.

"The coffee smells awful," Skylar announced, wrinkling her nose as she surveyed the breakfast spread I'd been preparing since four a.m. "Too weak. You should use the Ethiopian beans Duke bought last week."

I hadn't seen any Ethiopian beans. Then again, I wasn't exactly privy to Duke's shopping habits these days.

"I'll make a fresh pot," I said quietly, reaching for the coffee machine.

"Don't bother," Duke replied, not even looking at me as he helped Skylar settle into a chair. "We're running late. The Henderson meeting starts at seven-thirty."

Skylar's wrist caught the morning light as she reached for a pastry, drawing my attention to the diamond bracelet glittering there. My breath caught in my throat.

That bracelet. I'd seen it in the Tiffany catalog just last month—$195,000. The exact amount I'd had saved in Sarah's medical fund before our marriage.

"Is that new?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Skylar's smile widened as she noticed my stare. "This old thing? Duke surprised me yesterday. Wasn't that sweet of him?"

Duke finally looked at me, his gray eyes cold and unreadable. "The account was in my name as your husband. Legally, it's mine to spend as I see fit."

My phone rang before I could respond. The hospital. My heart lurched as I answered.

"Ms. Olson? This is Dr. Martinez at Saint Mary's. Your sister's condition has deteriorated significantly. She needs immediate surgery—we're talking about a matter of days, not weeks."

"How much?" I asked, already knowing the answer wouldn't be good.

"Two hundred thousand dollars. The procedure is experimental, but it's her best chance."

I ended the call and rushed to my laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as I logged into the medical fund account. The balance stared back at me: $27,341.23.

"That's impossible," I whispered, scrolling through the transaction history.

Withdrawal after withdrawal. All authorized by Duke Perry.

---

"Ms. Olson, I need to be honest with you." Mr. Harrison, the divorce attorney, removed his glasses as he studied my case files. "A divorce from someone with Mr. Perry's resources and connections won't be easy."

"But he's draining my sister's medical fund," I said, my voice cracking. "She'll die without that surgery."

"The court might consider that financial abuse, but we'd need proof." He tapped his pen against the desk. "With your husband's influence, this could drag out months, maybe years."

I thought of Sarah's pale face, the way she'd whispered that she wanted to see Paris before she died. We'd never make it to Paris now.

"I have to try," I said.

---

Duke was waiting in the living room when I returned home that evening. He sat in his leather chair like a king holding court, divorce papers spread across the coffee table.

"Going somewhere, Katherine?" His voice was deceptively soft.

"I want a divorce." The words felt strange on my tongue—both terrifying and liberating.

He laughed, the sound devoid of humor. "Of course you do. But I have terms."

He slid the papers toward me. I scanned them quickly, my vision blurring with each brutal clause.

"Three months," he said, watching my face crumble. "You'll remain here as our servant until my wedding to Skylar. You'll cook, clean, and serve us both. And then you'll watch me marry her."

"That's the day of Sarah's surgery," I whispered.

"Is it?" His smile was cruel. "What a coincidence."

Skylar appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but Duke's shirt. She twirled, the diamond earrings he'd bought her that day catching the light.

"Do you like them?" she asked, her voice sweet poison. "Duke says they match the bracelet."

That night, I held Danny close as he slept, his small body warm against mine. Down the hall, Skylar's laughter drifted through the walls—bright and victorious.

I pressed my lips to Danny's forehead and made a silent promise. Somehow, we would escape this nightmare. Even if it killed me.