Chapter Fifteen
Lilac
Winter wants me to meet her at the gazebo and said it was urgent. I sip my cup of cocoa, tapping my ankle boots on the wooden floor.
The wind is harsh, and the sky is overcast, hazy. The campus is bare, empty. The trees’ bare limbs sway. Chatter in the distance.
What is it she wanted to tell me? Is it something bad? Did someone hurt her? She told me it couldn’t be discussed over the phone.
I hold my breath as she strides to the gazebo, and I exhale loudly as she hugs me tight, then she holds my hand.
“Did something happen with Keanu?” I blurt out.
She shakes her head, bites her lip, and avoids eye contact.
“You remember when you told me that Irvin is tricking the board members? I did some digging by hounding answers out of Keanu.”
I’ve never seen her so upset before.
I rub the side of my temple. “Please. Spit it out. You’re making me nervous.”
“Irvin tricked you into the marriage.”
No. That can’t be right. I can’t believe what she’s saying. Winter wouldn’t lie to me or make this up, but why would Keanu lie about Irvin? I get that he’s more friendly with Snow than Irvin, but as far as I know, they don’t have any beef.
My gaze is unfocused as I furrow my brow, and then my stomach feels heavy, as if it has lead in it.
“That’s a huge accusation, Winter.”
She pushes back her shoulders and digs into her floral book bag.
“Did you sign paperwork?”
I rub my palms together. “Yeah, a financial contract where he pays my rent and I’ll be his fake wife in return.”
She wrinkles her nose. “So you didn’t sign a marriage license?”
I shake my head. “I think I would’ve known if I signed a marriage license.”
Her mouth curls into a sneer, and she stiffens as she frowns. She hands me a thick piece of paper.
“Welp, he either forged your signature or you signed it and didn’t know.”
I snatch the thick paper from her hand, and my eyes scan it.
In the state of New York and in the city of North Haven, Lilac Lauren and Irvin Ashford in holy matrimony. The date, January 15, 2025, and time, 3:54 p.m.
Both of our signatures are in black ink, along with the pastor and his lawyer listed as witnesses.
My heart pounds like a drum. My breath catches.
He forged my signature! When? How? Why? He trapped me! I can’t believe this!
I step back. Again. Again. And again. I dig my nails into the strap of my book bag.
I need to confront him—and get an explanation.
I stomp across campus to Perkins Hall. I pull the door open and sit on the wooden bench across from his classroom.
I sit. Pace. Sit. Pace again. Yank my hair until my scalp stings.
The door opens, and students trail out of the classroom.
Then I spot him. I grind my teeth. Dig my nails into his hard forearm, drag him outside of the building.
He leans down, attempts to kiss me, but I turn my head to the side. Tears sting my eyes. I clench my fists, keeping them by my sides. My vision blurs.
I want to get away from him.
“When were you going to tell me?!” I shriek.
He eyes me cautiously. “Tell you what, princess?”
I slap the marriage license on his chest. “You forged my signature.”
He straightens his spine and shrugs, but his sage eyes soften.
“I didn’t forge anything. You signed it when you signed the financial contract.”
My mind races through every piece of paperwork I signed. Some of it I scanned through, though I didn’t bother reading some of it.
I want to slap him again. I want to hurt him. The tears don’t stop flowing down my cheeks.
“You made me believe it was my choice. You made me believe you were helping me out—but you weren’t.” I place my face in my palms. “You made me believe I was signing a contract—and you—you tricked me.”
My chest burns like bad heartburn.
We’re quiet as we walk to his white Mustang, and he opens the passenger side door.
I don’t want to be around him. I thought he cared about me, but he was using me for his personal gain.
“I’d rather walk home,” I snap.
“Get in the car, Lilac.” His tone is determined.
I stare into his sage green eyes, trying to search for any emotion—but he’s devoid of them. Does he care about what he did to me? How he hurt me?
“No. I’m not getting in the car with you,” I snarl.
He exhales through his teeth. “We need to talk about this. I’m not going to ask you again—get in the car.”
Sighing, I obey as I slide into the seat, strapping my seatbelt over my body.
The silence between us is deafening. The tension between us is thick. Sharp. Suffocating.
“Why did you do it?” I stammer.
He tilts his head to the side, predatory, but his eyes are dead. He digs his nails into the steering wheel.
“You are mine. I told you last year I was going to find a way to marry you.” His words are sharp knives.
I bury my nails into the leather seat until they ache. I swallow deep breaths. I recite in my mind: I’m okay.
I’m okay.
I’m okay.
“Did you freeze my bank account?”
He rubs the back of his head. “Yes.”
I want to puke.
“Why? How could you? Unfreeze my accounts and let me go. Please,” I beg.
He doesn’t respond. I can’t reason with him, no matter how much I beg.
We pull up to my condo. He kills the engine and stares into my eyes. He tries to cup my face, but I pull away. He’s completely broken my trust.
“Was any of it real? Were your feelings real, Irvin? Or was I one of your pawns? The dates? Nurturing me? Labeling me as your girlfriend—was it part of your plan?”
He doesn’t respond for several seconds. “It was real. I want you. It had nothing to do with tricking you into marriage. I took care of you because I care about you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. You made up a fucking lie—that you’re engaged to someone else.
You played with my emotions to get what you want.
You manipulated me.” The hole in my chest grows like a weed.
“You took away my freedom and choices. That’s not love, Irvin.
You don’t know what love is.” I sigh. “Please, just unfreeze my accounts. I want a divorce.”
His face is flat. No emotion or spark in his eyes.
“No. We can’t simply get a divorce.”
I shake my head. “Why not?”
“The board members have an absolute law. No divorces.”
“What happens if we get a divorce?”
He grabs my hand, squeezes tight. “We will both be sent to Tartarus and face execution.”
I deck him. Hard. My fingers throb.
He doesn’t flinch—but wipes the tears from my eyes.
I should have trusted my gut, but I was too desperate for his help to solve a problem he created.
Tears spill harder. Everything I worked hard for is going up in smoke—my secret identity; the life I built is on quicksand.
I started to have feelings for Irvin, but he broke my heart into tiny pieces, and I’ll never trust him again.
I get out of the car, and Irvin follows suit. I flee to the gate of my condo. He trails behind me.
“Don’t. Follow. Me!” I bellow. “Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me!”