26.

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I woke up with the sun peeking through my curtains, stretching across my plush bed in the estate. A yawn slipped from my lips as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, but the moment I remembered what Mommy had texted me last night, I shot up with a rush of energy.

Ren's charge was updated.

I didn't waste time getting dressed, just threw on a silk robe over my pajamas and slipped into my slippers before making my way through the house. The halls were quiet this early in the morning, just how I liked it. No Daddy watching me like a hawk, no Wyatt breathing down my neck. Just peace.

I practically skipped to Mommy's office, excitement bubbling in my chest. Maybe the update was good news. Maybe Ren was getting out sooner than expected. Maybe—

I pushed open the door without knocking, and Mommy barely glanced up from her desk, sipping her morning coffee. She looked well-rested, but there was something calculating in her expression, like she had been up thinking about this all night.

"Sit," she said, nodding toward the chair across from her.

I did as she said, crossing my legs as I tucked my robe around me. "So? What's the update?"

She set her coffee down and leaned back in her chair, looking me over for a moment before speaking. "Her record is gone."

I blinked. "Gone?"

"Vanished. Like it never existed."

Confusion twisted in my gut. "What do you mean gone? That doesn't just happen."

Mommy sighed, turning her laptop screen toward me. "I refreshed this page at least a hundred times last night, checked every database I could access. It's like she was never charged at all."

I leaned forward, scanning the empty case file. My heart pounded in my chest. This wasn't normal. This wasn't normal at all.

I looked back at Mommy. "Did Daddy do this?"

She scoffed, shaking her head. "I doubt it. He doesn't have the motivation to clean up a mess that doesn't benefit him."

That only made my confusion deepen. "Then who?"

She sipped her coffee again, her gaze sharp over the rim of the mug. "I don't know. But whoever it was, they have power."

I sat back, my mind spinning. Ren had people. She had connections. Even locked up, she wasn't powerless. But this? This wasn't just someone pulling a favor—this was someone wiping everything.

It meant something.

I just didn't know what yet.

Mommy sighed, setting her coffee down again before giving me a pointed look. "Hopefully, this is a good sign."

I nodded slowly, but my stomach was still twisting.

I let out a small sigh, sinking further into the chair. "I miss Ren a lot." My voice was quiet, but every word was heavy. It wasn't just missing someone's presence—it was an ache, deep in my chest, that hadn't let up in months.

Mommy studied me for a moment, her sharp gaze softening just a little. "I know," she said simply. No lecture, no judgment, just understanding.

That was the thing about her—she wasn't like Daddy. She didn't pretend not to notice the way I felt. She saw through all the pretending, the fake smiles, the way I played perfect fiancée for the cameras. She knew me, the real me.

But whatever moment of sympathy I thought I was about to get didn't last long. She glanced at the clock on her desk before setting her coffee down with a small clink. "You need to be getting dressed for your breakfast with Wyatt."

I groaned instantly, flopping my head back against the chair. "Mommy, please—"

She gave me a look, and I already knew there was no getting out of it.

I sat up with a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes. "Why do I even have to go? It's not like the world will stop if I miss one breakfast."

Mommy arched a brow. "Because it's expected of you. And because your fiancé expects you to show up."

I cringed at the word. Fiancé. It sounded worse every time I heard it.

She must've seen the look on my face because she sighed, a little softer this time. "Yanna, I know you don't want this. But as long as you're in this situation, you need to play your part."

I crossed my arms, mumbling under my breath, "I've been playing my part for months."

She gave me a pointed look. "And you'll continue to, unless you want your father to make things even harder for you."

That shut me up real quick.

I bit my lip, hating how stuck I felt. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to say no, to refuse to play happy little fiancée for someone who disgusted me, someone who wasn't Ren.

But I wasn't stupid.

Daddy had power, and Wyatt had control.

And until I figured out a way out of this, I had no choice but to keep pretending.

I huffed and stood up, making my way toward the door. "Fine. I'll get dressed."

Mommy just nodded, watching me closely. "Good girl."

I rolled my eyes again before walking out, my heart heavy.

I slipped into the pink dress, adjusting it over my curves. It was tight, hugging every inch of me in a way I knew Ren would love. She'd always been so vocal about what she liked—how she liked seeing my body, how she'd touch me in public just because she couldn't help herself.

I smirked a little, turning in the mirror to check the back. If she saw me in this? Lord. She wouldn't even let me leave the room before she was all over me.

The thought made my chest ache.

I missed her.

So much.

I pulled my hair into a bun, leaving my neck exposed—another thing Ren loved. She was obsessed with my neck, always leaving kisses there, always whispering in my ear about how good I smelled, how good I tasted.

She was such a freakkk.

I laughed under my breath, but the sound quickly faded as I sighed, picking up my phone and calling Rina again.

No answer.

Again.

I dropped my hand, staring at the screen with frustration. Rina and Mally had been acting different ever since they officially got together, and I didn't know if it was intentional or if they were just too wrapped up in each other to care. Either way, I was feeling more and more alone.

I placed my phone down and turned back to the mirror, taking a step closer.

I just stared at myself.

My makeup was flawless. My outfit was perfect. To anyone else, I looked like the picture of a spoiled, happy fiancée.

But my eyes told a different story.

There was no light in them, no excitement. Just exhaustion. Just pretending.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

Play your part, Yanna.

I blinked, giving myself one last once-over before grabbing my purse and heading out the door.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, but my mind was loud. My new security detail sat stiffly in the front, eyes scanning the roads, but I wasn't paying them much attention. I was too busy staring out the tinted windows, gripping my purse a little too tight, thinking about the morning.

Thinking about Ren.

How her record just vanished like that. How Mommy looked just as confused as I was but still told me it was a good sign.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it meant something.

Maybe it meant she was coming back to me.

The thought sent a shiver up my spine, but before I could get too deep in my head, the car slowed to a stop in front of the restaurant. One of the security guards stepped out first, opening the door for me, and I forced a polite smile before stepping out.

As soon as I walked in, I spotted Wyatt at our reserved table. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight.

He was already in a mood.

I sighed through my nose and walked over, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

When I reached the table, he barely let me sit before his eyes dragged over me with a look of disgust.

"Why is your hair so... unkempt?" His tone was sharp, condescending. "You didn't even try to look presentable?"

I blinked, taken aback for a second before instinctively touching my bun. My hair was perfectly fine. Slicked back, edges laid, not a strand out of place.

Unkempt?

I swallowed my irritation. "What are you talking about? My hair is done."

He scoffed, shaking his head like I was some kind of embarrassment. "That natural look isn't flattering. You should've straightened it or something."

I clenched my jaw, trying not to snap. I'd dealt with this from him before—his little comments about my appearance, the way he always found something to criticize.

But before I could even gather a response, he leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly.

"And you've been putting on some extra pounds."

My stomach twisted.

I let out a slow breath, gripping the napkin in my lap so tight I thought it would rip.

Ren would never say this to me.

Ren loved every inch of me—every curve, every dip, every little piece of softness. She touched me like I was art, kissed me like she was grateful for every single part of me.

She would never make me feel like I was too much or not enough.

She would never look at me with disgust.

His face was unreadable, his tone casual—like he wasn't completely tearing me down in the middle of this overpriced restaurant.

Like he wasn't making me feel like nothing.

"You need to invest in a waist trainer or hit the gym," he had said. And as if that wasn't enough, he added, "We can work on the weight later anyway, since we're about to start having kids soon."

My body went completely still.

My ears started ringing.

What?

I blinked, thinking I must have misheard him, but he was just sitting there, sipping his coffee like he didn't just drop the most insane bomb on me.

I let out a sharp breath, my fingers tightening around the napkin. "Excuse me?"

Wyatt set his cup down, looking at me like I was the one being ridiculous. "We need to start working on an heir, Yanna. You know how important that is."

My throat closed up. "An heir?"

Like I was just some... incubator? Some tool to give him what he needed to carry on his legacy?

He nodded, completely unfazed. "Obviously. You know how this works. I need a son. My father's been asking about it, and I told him we were already making plans. It's a part of the bigger picture."

I felt sick.

Like the walls were closing in, like the entire restaurant was pressing down on my chest.

"You told him that?" My voice came out hollow, barely above a whisper.

Wyatt frowned, like he didn't understand why I was reacting like this. Like I was the one being unreasonable. "Of course, I did. It's what's expected, Yanna. You're going to be my wife."

His wife.

His heir.

His perfect little doll, perfectly groomed and sculpted and bred for his convenience.

My stomach turned.

I forced myself to keep my face neutral, forced myself to not show the absolute disgust and rage boiling inside of me. Because Wyatt didn't like when I talked back, when I questioned things.

I had learned to just nod. To smile. To act like I wasn't suffocating every single second I spent with him.

So I nodded, my nails digging into my palm under the table. "Right. Of course."

His expression eased, like my compliance was enough to satisfy him. "Good. I'm glad you understand. We'll talk more about it later."

He went back to his coffee like this was just another normal morning.

Like he hadn't just told me I was about to be locked into this life forever.

But as I sat there, staring blankly at the table, I realized something.

I wasn't his to own.

I wasn't his to mold, to control, to use for his benefit.

And I wasn't going to let him trap me.

Because deep in my heart, I already knew.

I wasn't having his child.

I wasn't marrying him.

I wasn't staying.

And no matter what it took...

I was going to find a way back to Ren.

I picked at my food, my appetite completely gone after everything Wyatt had just said. The omelet on my plate suddenly looked unappetizing, the fruit beside it dull and lifeless. I barely nibbled at a piece of toast, taking tiny bites, hoping that if I ate slow enough, this breakfast would be over sooner.

But of course, Wyatt noticed.

"Woahhh, slow down," he said, laughing like he had just caught me stuffing my face. "No need to inhale it, babe."

I forced a smile, gripping my fork a little tighter. "I'm not..."

He grinned, leaning back in his chair like this was all a joke to him. "You barely even touch your food sometimes, but when you do eat, you act like you haven't eaten in days." He shook his head. "Not a good look, Yanna. You need to pace yourself."

My fingers twitched around my fork. I wanted to stab it into his hand just to shut him up.

Instead, I placed it down carefully, taking a slow breath to keep my composure.

There was no winning with him. If I didn't eat, he'd call me out for wasting food. If I did eat, he had to make some stupid comment about it. Nothing was ever enough for him.

I folded my hands in my lap, my voice light but firm. "I am pacing myself."

Wyatt scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Just don't let it become a habit. You're already pushing it with your weight. I'm just saying it because I care about you, Yanna."

I felt my stomach twist, heat rushing up my neck, burning beneath my skin.

He was smiling, acting like he wasn't actively tearing me apart with every little dig, every casual comment that chipped away at me piece by piece.

I wasn't even looking at him anymore. I was just staring at the table, at my untouched plate, my jaw tight enough to crack.

I was so close to losing it.

But instead, I swallowed it down like I always did.

Because I had already decided—this wasn't going to last forever.

One day, very soon, I wouldn't have to sit across from him anymore. I wouldn't have to deal with his fake concern, his controlling words, his suffocating presence.

I wouldn't have to pretend.

I picked my fork back up, spearing a small piece of my omelet and slowly bringing it to my mouth, my movements perfectly controlled.

I hesitated before speaking, knowing Wyatt's reaction wouldn't be great, but I didn't care. I wanted to do this for myself, for my cousin, for something that actually mattered to me.

"I want to do this volunteer gig at a career center," I said, keeping my voice even.

Wyatt snorted, barely looking up from his phone. "A volunteer gig?" He repeated it like the words didn't make sense coming out of my mouth. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "And what career are you showcasing, huh? Being a spoiled brat?"

I blinked, my lips pressing together. My fingers curled against my lap, nails digging into my skin beneath the table.

I should've known he'd say something like that.

My voice was quieter now, but I kept my composure. "I'm a celebrity guest."

Wyatt finally looked at me, raising a brow. "For what?"

I swallowed, shifting in my seat. "I just wanted to help my cousin with her hair booth. She's really talented, and I thought—"

He cut me off with another chuckle, this one even more condescending. "You want to help at a hair booth?" He smirked. "Since when do you care about stuff like that? Baby, you don't even do your own hair. You have stylists for that."

I forced a smile, trying to keep my tone light. "That doesn't mean I can't support my cousin. It's a good opportunity, and I—"

He waved a hand dismissively, already bored of the conversation. "Look, if you wanna play hairdresser for a day, knock yourself out. Just don't embarrass yourself—or me." He sipped his drink before adding, "And try not to mess up your nails. I just paid for that set."

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, but then Wyatt reached out and lifted my chin with his fingers, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

For a split second, my mind betrayed me.

I wasn't here. I wasn't sitting across from him.

I was somewhere else—with Ren.

I could almost feel the warmth of her touch, the way her fingers would graze my jaw with something that wasn't just possession, but worship. I could hear her voice in my head, low and smooth, whispering "Look at you, baby... so perfect."

My heart ached.

But then the illusion shattered, and I was staring at Wyatt again—his grip firmer, less gentle, less Ren.

"You listening to me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah, of course."

He studied me for a moment, like he could tell my mind had drifted somewhere else. I held my breath, hoping he'd just let it go.

Finally, he released my chin and leaned back in his chair. "Good. 'Cause I need you to start focusing on what actually matters."

I just nodded again, my throat tight, swallowing the words I wanted to say.

Ren was all I could think about now. The way she made me feel seen, wanted, safe.

And I knew—deep down—I wouldn't be able to keep playing perfect fiancée for much longer.