The scent of grease and burnt oil clung to my uniform as I unfastened my apron, tossing it into my locker with more force than was ever necessary. My feet ached from standing for twelve hours straight, my back screamed from bending over fryers, and my patience was completely drained.
"Hey, Penny," my boss, Greg, called out from behind the counter, his eyes scanning my body in that creepy way that made my skin crawl. I felt a familiar surge of disgust and resentment.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, his voice dipped with condescension.
I clenched my jaw, biting back the retort that threatened to spill out. "Yeah," I muttered, trying to sound neutral.
Greg's grin widened, his eyes brightening with amusement. "Good girl," he said, his tone patronizing.
I forced a tight smile, feeling my anger grow. "Thanks," I said, my voice tight.
Greg chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. "You're a real trooper, Penny. I don't know what I'd do without you."
I felt a wave of anger wash over me. Yeah, right. He didn't care about me or my well-being. All he cared about was getting cheap labor out of me.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," I said, trying to sound cheerful.
Greg nodded, his eyes already drifting away. "Bright and early, Penny. Don't be late."
I nodded, feeling a familiar sense of dread settle in. Another day, another dollar, another chance to deal with Greg's bossy behavior.
I grabbed my things and slammed my locker shut and hurried out before he could say anything else. The cold night air bit at my skin as I stepped outside, but I welcomed it. Anything was better than the suffocating heat of the kitchen and Greg's lingering gaze.
Pulling my phone out of my bag, I swiped at the screen, hoping for something—anything—to lift my mood.
Madison Laurent just posted a photo.
My chest tightened as I clicked on the notification. The image loaded instantly, displaying my twin sister in an elegant designer dress, her arm looped around her husband's—Julien Laurent. They stood in front of a grand, candlelit dinner setup on the rooftop of what was likely some five-star hotel, the skyline twinkling behind them. The caption read:
"One year down, forever to go. Happy Anniversary, mon amour. ❤️ @JulienLaurentOfficial"
My stomach churned with a bitter mix of envy and resentment. Madison had everything—wealth, status, power—all wrapped up in the form of a man who made the world bow at his feet.
Julien Laurent
The richest businessman in the city. CEO of Laurent Fashion Dream, the number one luxury fashion house, dictating trends that the elite followed blindly. The man whose empire was built on ruthless ambition and an unmatched vision. Madison's husband.
I swallowed hard and zoomed in on his face.
Sharp jawline, sculpted cheekbones, piercing dark green eyes framed by thick lashes. Even in a simple black tux, his presence was overwhelming—commanding. The world saw him as a king, but to me, he was something else.
He was the first man I ever loved.
A sharp pang of regret shot through me as memories revived.
FLASHBACK: High School, Seven Years Ago
The school hallways buzzed with energy, students filing out of classrooms in groups, chattering excitedly. I stood alone near my locker, my palms sweaty as I clutched a folded piece of paper against my chest.
I had spent the entire night crafting that note, going over every word. It was stupid, but I had to do it. I had to tell him.
Julien Laurent was a senior—the golden boy of our school. Brilliant, handsome, untouchable. He walked through the halls like he owned them, like he owned everything, and in a way, he did
I spotted him leaning against the wall near the gym, arms crossed, his ever-present smirk playing at his lips as he talked to his friends. My stomach twisted with nerves, but I forced myself forward.
"Julien," I called out, my voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze flicked to mine, those sharp green eyes locking onto me. My heart pounded. He always had that effect on people.
"Penelope," he acknowledged, straightening up. "What's up?"
I hesitated, my fingers gripping the note so tightly it crumpled. "I, uh… I just wanted to give you this."
His brow arched in curiosity as he took the paper from my hands. Slowly, he unfolded it, eyes scanning the words I had so carefully written.
Julien,
I know this might be unexpected, but I've liked you for a long time. I admire you—everything about you. You're incredible. If there's even the slightest chance you feel the same way, I'd love to get to know you more.
—Penelope
I held my breath as he read. A long silence mounted between us before he exhaled, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.
"Penelope…" His tone was softer than I expected, but his expression was unreadable. "You're sweet, but… I don't see you that way."
My heart pounded.
"You're still so young," he continued. "And… I just don't think it would work."
I forced a smile, ignoring the burn of humiliation creeping up my neck. "Right. Of course. Forget I said anything."
He gave me a small, almost pitying smile. "You'll find someone better, Pen."
And just like that, he walked away.
PRESENT
A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I stared at his picture on my phone. What a joke.
He had said I was too young for him but hadn't hesitated to accept Madison's confession, and now, they have been married for a year. What a sick joke life played on me.
Madison hadn't just taken the life I wanted—she had taken the man I wanted.
And now, she had everything.
Meanwhile, I was stuck in a miserable marriage with Evan, who drained me in every way possible. He hadn't worked in months, depending on me, to feed him, clothe him, and cover his debts. I was exhausted.
I shoved my phone back into my bag, blinking away the sting in my eyes.
I should have fought for him.
I should have fought for myself.
I had the kind of life Madison was enjoying at the grasp of my palm but, I watched it slip away. Like a fool.
I climbed the stairs to our tiny apartment, exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin. My cloth still smelled of fried grease, my feet screamed with every step, and my mind was heavy with thoughts of them—Madison and Julien, swimming in their anniversary glow while I dragged myself home to this.
The moment I unlocked the door, the stench of beer and sweat smacked me in the face. The living room was a disaster. Empty beer bottles littered on the floor, along with crumpled food wrappers and used plates that no one had bothered to clean up. Greasy pizza boxes were stacked on the coffee table, and the couch—our only decent piece of furniture—was occupied by my husband and his three useless friends.
Evan sat in the center, legs sprawled out, eyes glued to the TV screen. A football match played at full volume, making my head pound even more. His friends—Ben, Troy, and Marcus—were just as invested, shouting at the screen like their lives depended on it.
I clenched my fists. Twelve hours of work. Twelve hours of dealing with Greg's creepy remarks and aching muscles. And this is what I come home to?
I threw my bag onto the table with a loud thud. No reaction.
"Evan," I snapped, my voice barely interrupting through the noise.
Nothing.
"Evan!"
He finally turned, a lazy smirk on his face, beer bottle in hand. "Hey, babe," he said casually, like he wasn't sitting in a dump. "Long shift?"
Long shift? I bit my lip, fighting the urge to scream.
"Tell your friends to leave," I said instead, voice strained. "Now."
His smirk dropped. "What?"
"I said—tell them to get out," I repeated, making every word clear as day. "I'm tired. This place is a mess, and I want to sleep in peace."
Ben snickered. "Damn, Penelope. Loosen up a little."
I shot him a glare that could kill. "Shut up, Ben. You don't even live here."
Evan sighed dramatically and waved a hand. "Come on, babe. The game isn't even over yet."
I crossed my arms. "I don't care."
He looked at his friends, rolling his eyes. "Just give us thirty minutes."
"I said now, Evan." My patience had officially snapped.
Evan exhaled sharply, placing his beer on the table. "Alright, alright. Guys, I'll see you tomorrow."
Troy groaned. "Seriously, man?"
"Yeah, yeah. She's in one of her moods.
One of my moods.
I turned away before I said something that would make me regret marrying him even more.
The moment the door shut behind them, I stormed into our tiny bedroom. Evan followed, sighing dramatically like I was ruining his night.
"Jesus, Penelope," he groaned. "What the hell is your problem?"
I spun around. "My problem? My problem? Evan, I just got back from a twelve-hour shift, and instead of coming home to a peaceful apartment, I walk into a frat house!"
He scoffed. "Oh, here we go again."
"Yes, here we go again!" I shouted. "Because this keeps happening! Every damn day, I come home, and you're just—just sitting here, drinking, watching football, doing nothing! Meanwhile, I'm out there breaking my back to keep us from drowning!"
Evan's jaw clenched. "I do plenty."
"Oh really?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Name one thing, Evan. One thing."
Silence.
I threw my hands up. "Exactly."
His eyes darkened. "Maybe if you swallowed your damn pride, we wouldn't be in this mess."
I froze. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, stepping closer. "You're so damn stubborn, Penelope. You could've accepted help from your sister and her billionaire husband. But no. You wanted to prove something. And for what? Look at us! Living in this dump while Madison lives like a damn queen. And guess what? That's on you."
A wave of rage shot through me. "I didn't take their money because I didn't want to be a charity case, Evan!"
"You already are," he snapped. "Only instead of taking money from your rich sister, you're spending your whole damn life taking care of me."
My chest heaved. "Are you even hearing yourself right now? I work my ass off every day while you refuse to even try. I've told you a million times to get a job, Evan. Hell, a remote job! Anything!"
"And I told you," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm not gonna sit behind a computer like some pathetic loser just because you want to play boss."
I stared at him, disbelief tightening my throat. "You think it's pathetic to contribute? You think it's pathetic to help your own wife so she doesn't have to work herself to death?"
He scoffed. "You act like you're the only one suffering. Newsflash, Penelope—I lost my job too."
"You lost your job over a year ago! And you haven't lifted a damn finger since!"
"Because you won't let me!" he shouted. "You think you can do it all, don't you? Miss Independent. Miss 'I don't need anyone.'"
I let out a shaky breath, my body trembling with anger. "You know what's funny, Evan? I actually thought things would get better. I actually believed you when you said we'd get through this together."
He gave a bitter chuckle. "Yeah? Well, you believed a lot of stupid things. Like thinking we were ready for a kid."
My breath caught.
I felt the floor tremble beneath me as his words sliced through my chest like a blade.
I swallowed hard. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me," he said, eyes flashing. "If you weren't so damn proud, maybe our baby would still be here."
The world blurred around me.
"You son of a bitch."
Evan didn't flinch. "You overworked yourself when you didn't have to. You pushed yourself too far. And for what? Just so you could say you didn't need help?" He let out a cruel laugh. "Congratulations, Penelope. You didn't need anyone. And now, our kid is dead because of it."
Tears burned my eyes, hot and furious. My hands trembled at my sides.
"I lost that baby because I was doing everything. Because I was working two jobs, cleaning, cooking, keeping this whole goddamn place from falling apart while you sat on your ass!" I was screaming now, voice raw, broken. "And you have the audacity to blame me?"
Evan's face twisted into something ugly. "If you weren't so damn selfish, maybe I wouldn't have to."
A sob ripped from my throat.
I shook my head, stepping back like I was trying to escape the nightmare standing in front of me.
"I regret you," I whispered, voice shaking. "I regret all of this. Meeting you. Marrying you. Loving you. Every single thing."
His expression faltered for the first time.
I turned on my heel and ran—out the door, down the stairs, out into the cold, cruel night.
Tears blurred my vision as I ran, my breath coming in shallow, gasping sobs. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I needed to get away.
Away from the man who once promised to love me.
Away from the life that had become my prison.