Chapter 24 #2
“This is nice,” he said, settling into a chair and reaching for a croissant. “A good way to start the day.”
It was strange to be sitting in my room when we had a beautiful renovated kitchen downstairs, but this is where it all started and it was where I would end my last hours being a Shaw.
We ate in silence for a while, the simple act of sharing a meal grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. It was a brief moment of normalcy, a reminder of who I was before everything changed.
But as the sun rose higher, casting golden light across the room, I couldn’t ignore the reality that loomed ahead. Today would be the beginning of a new life, a life I wasn’t sure I was ready for. And as much as I cherished this time with my family, I knew it was fleeting.
Evelina and her assistant carefully removed my dress from its bag, while the hair stylist and makeup artist began setting up in my small room.
The air was thick with anticipation, every detail meticulously planned for this moment.
But then I heard Evelina gasp, a sharp intake of breath that sliced through the quiet.
“No, no!” she cried, her voice tight with alarm. “What happened here?”
I spun around, heart pounding in my chest. The seam of my dress was torn open—a jagged two-foot tear that ran down the delicate fabric.
I sucked in a breath, my mind reeling. The dress had been perfect when I’d hung it in my room just a couple of days ago, safely tucked away in its bag, waiting for its final steaming on my wedding day.
My stomach clenched with a sickening realization.
I knew how this had happened. Simone. She had access to my room, and it was just like her to make a last-ditch attempt to ruin my day, to make it clear that in her eyes, I wasn’t worthy to marry her father.
The thought of her smug, satisfied smile made my blood boil.
Hearing the commotion, my mother poked her head into the room, her eyes wide with concern. “Oh my God, what happened?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.
“I don’t know, but I have a pretty good idea,” I spat, my anger barely contained.
She hurried over to the dress, lifting the skirt to inspect the damage. “It’s along the seam,” she said, her voice more measured now. “I can fix it.”
“Mom, you can’t,” I protested, though I knew she was more than capable. She raised an eyebrow, her expression firm.
“You doubt me?” she challenged.
I knew better than to question her skills. She’d made clothes for us when we were children, even crafted a dress for my eighth-grade dance that had made me feel like a princess. If anyone could fix this, it was her.
“I’ll need a sewing kit,” she said, her tone brisk. “The fabric is so delicate, I have to do this by hand.”
I racked my brain, trying to remember where I’d seen one.
Then it hit me—Colson’s office. He had a box with sewing supplies; I remembered it clearly from the time he’d needed a needle to remove a splinter.
The box, with its pretty threads, had likely belonged to Poppy.
It sat in a closet near his desk. The last thing I wanted to do was go back to the mansion, but this was an emergency.
“I know where there’s one,” I said, already moving toward the door. “I just have to avoid Colson seeing me.”
Not that it really mattered. I wasn’t superstitious, and the thought of seeing him filled me with a cold dread. Our marriage was doomed from the start—there would be no happiness in it, not for me anyway. But I wasn’t about to let Simone win.
Without another word, I bolted out of the house, running along the perimeter of the woods. The last thing I wanted was to catch a glimpse of the tent or pass by the ceremony space. I needed to stay focused, to get this done and get back before anyone noticed I was gone.
The morning air was cool against my skin as I sprinted toward the mansion, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn’t just running to fix a dress—I was running to reclaim a small piece of myself in a life that felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
Once I reached the front door, I slipped inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. But as soon as I stepped into the foyer, I saw Vaughn standing there, talking on his cell. His eyes narrowed when he noticed me, and he quickly ended his call.
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck for a groom to see the bride on their wedding day?” he snapped, his tone sharp.
“Mind your business, Vaughn?” I shot back, my nerves already frayed. “I don’t have time to argue with you.”
Before I could react, he swept me up into his arms, carrying me into the sitting room. I struggled in his grip, but he held me tight.
“Give me one last kiss as a single woman,” he begged, his voice softening as he set me down.
I shook my head, backing away from him. “I can’t do that, Vaughn. I never should’ve let it happen in the first place. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
But Vaughn wasn’t ready to let me go. He pinned me to the wall with his body, his breath hot against my skin. “When he’s inside you tonight, you’ll wish it was me. He’ll never treat you like you deserve.”
His words hit me like a slap, but I forced myself to stay calm. “You’re getting engaged next month,” I reminded him, my voice icy. “You’ll have your own unhappy marriage to be part of.”
“And I’ll be miserable seeing you with him,” he countered, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “I’m asking you for the last time, don’t marry him.”
I pushed against his chest, sliding around the wall to put some distance between us. “It’s done, Vaughn. In a few hours, I’ll be married.”
Leaving him standing there, I slipped out of the room and rushed to Colson’s office. My heart was pounding as I opened the closet door, searching for the sewing box. I found it quickly enough, but something else caught my eye—a file box marked SHAW.
Curiosity flared inside me, and despite the urgency of my situation, I couldn’t resist. I flipped open the top and pulled out a thick file with my grandfather’s name, Albert Shaw, scrawled in red marker.
Albert Shaw—the last of the wealthy Shaws. The man who had squandered his fortune, leaving nothing for my father’s Yale tuition. It was the reason my father had to abandon his dreams and start working for the Ashworths, tending to their landscaping, never to leave.
Time was slipping away, and I knew my mother needed every minute to fix my dress.
But I couldn’t tear myself away from the file.
What I found inside made my blood run cold.
The Ashworths—this family I was about to marry into—were responsible for my family’s financial downfall.
The truth was laid out in black and white, a betrayal that burned deep into my soul.
I shoved the folder back into the box, my hands trembling with a mix of rage and disbelief.
This was more than just a wedding now; it was a betrayal.
A sick twist of fate that had me tied to the very people who had destroyed my family.
As I slammed the lid shut, I made a silent vow: I would have my revenge.
No matter what it took, I would make the Ashworths pay for what they had done.
The End
Book 1
Click here to order Entrapped – Book 2 of The Bitter Vow Series and check out an excerpt below as Josephine navigates her new life as Mrs. Ashworth.
The morning air was crisp, filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers as I stepped outside onto the great lawn. The bright sun, casting a golden glow over the hundreds of white chairs lined in perfect rows.
Guests filled them, their murmurs a soft hum beneath the gentle strains of classical music. The altar, a grand structure adorned with ivy and white roses, stood at the end of the long aisle, a beautiful lie waiting to consume me.
My parents stood on either side of me, their arms linked with mine. My father looked at me with a mixture of pride and emotion, while my mother gave me a reassuring smile, her eyes glistening with tears.
They were happy, blissfully unaware of the truth I had uncovered just hours before. The truth that Colson Ashworth, the man waiting for me at the end of this aisle, was part of the family that had destroyed ours.
I could barely feel the ground beneath my feet as we started down the aisle.
My body moved on autopilot, each step taking me closer to a future I no longer wanted.
The guests rose from their seats, turning to watch me with admiration and joy.
But all I could think about was the file I had found in Colson’s office, the cold, hard evidence of how his father had ruined my grandfather, leaving us with nothing.
Colson stood at the altar, looking every bit the part of the perfect groom.
His dark hair was neatly combed, his suit impeccably tailored, and his smile warm and inviting.
But to me, he was nothing more than a predator, a man who had taken everything from me and now sought to claim me as his final prize.
As we reached the altar, my father pressed a kiss to my cheek, and my mother gave my hand one last squeeze before stepping back.
I was alone now, standing before Colson, who reached out to take my hand.
His touch was firm, possessive, and I had to force myself not to recoil.
The pastor smiled at us both, his voice deep and steady as he began the ceremony.
The words flowed over me, a blur of promises and platitudes that I couldn’t focus on.
The pastor spoke of love, commitment, and the sanctity of marriage, but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears, the deafening echo of my own thoughts.
I imagined the life I could have had if not for the Ashworths, the opportunities stolen from my family, the struggles we had endured because of their greed.
Colson squeezed my hand, a gentle reminder to focus, as the pastor turned to him for his vows.
His voice was smooth, confident, filled with promises that made my stomach churn.
He vowed to love, cherish, and honor me, his words like venom seeping into my soul.
I stared at him, seeing not the handsome, charming man everyone else saw, but the architect of my family’s downfall.
When it was my turn to speak, my throat tightened.
The vows I had rehearsed so many times suddenly felt foreign, like a betrayal of everything I had ever wanted.
But with the eyes of hundreds of guests on me, I forced the words out, each one a lie that tasted bitter on my tongue.
I vowed to love, to cherish, to honor him, knowing that in my heart, I could never truly mean it.
The pastor smiled, satisfied, and declared us husband and wife. Colson leaned in to kiss me, and I braced myself as his lips met mine. The crowd erupted in applause, the music swelled, and I forced a smile as we turned to face our guests, hand in hand.
But inside, I was hollow, consumed by the knowledge of what had been taken from me.
This wasn’t a celebration—it was a funeral for the life I should have had.
As we walked back down the aisle, past the smiling faces and shower of rose petals, I knew that I was now Mrs. Josephine Ashworth, bound to a man and a family that had taken everything from me.
And as I looked at Colson beside me, I made a silent vow of my own: I would find a way to make the Ashworths pay for what they had done, no matter the cost.