Chapter 7: Chapter 7.

Jane’s POV

I didn’t wait for John to open the door for me. The moment the car came to a stop, I pushed it open myself and stepped out, my heels hitting the driveway with sharp finality. John looked startled, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, maybe Are you okay? or Should I help you?, but one look at my face must have told him better. He simply shut the door behind me and stayed where he was.

I stormed into the house, the familiar marble floors cold beneath my feet, anger coursing through my veins like poison. My chest burned with it. How dare he pull something like that? How dare he corner me in public, steal my voice, rewrite the narrative with a single calculated kiss?

Now, to the rest of the world, I was living some picture-perfect married life. Headlines would spin it as reconciliation. Strangers would sigh over us like we were some tragic love story fighting against the odds.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that behind closed doors, my life was nothing but a cage dressed up as luxury. No roses, no butterflies, only thorns that were sharp, relentless, and always drawing blood.

I climbed the stairs two at a time and went straight to the bedroom. The moment I crossed the threshold, I yanked open the wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t pause to think, I was done.

I grabbed my clothes, folding them with shaking hands and tossing them into the suitcase. Dresses, shoes, personal items, everything went in without order. As I reached for a drawer, my elbow knocked against a small jewelry box perched near the edge, and it slipped.

Time seemed to slow as it hit the floor, the lid popping open, its contents spilling out like a cruel reminder, and my breath caught.

The necklace.

My vision blurred as I dropped to my knees, my fingers trembling as I picked it up. Gold, delicate, familiar. Adrian’s mother had given it to me on our wedding day, her hands warm and gentle as she fastened it around my neck. I could hear her voice so clearly it hurt. “Thank you, dear, for choosing this idiot of a son I have,” she’d said with a laugh. “Thank you for loving him. Thank you for accepting him.”

And then she’d looked at me with tears in her eyes, squeezing my hands like she was afraid to let go. “Promise me something,” she’d whispered. “Promise me you’ll never leave him, no matter what happens. Promise me you’ll be with him until death parts the two of you.”

A sob tore out of me before I could stop it. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, clutching the necklace to my chest. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I broke my promise.”

If only she had known the truth. If only she had known this marriage wasn’t built on love, but debt. On survival. On a contract that never once considered my heart.

The bedroom door burst open with a force that made me flinch. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, Janine Blackwood!” he barked, using my full name like a weapon.

I straightened slowly and turned to face him. “You mean Janine Reed.”

“Whatever,” he snapped, waving it off. “Why the hell did you leave without me? You took the car. You took the chauffeur. How exactly did you expect me to get home?”

I stared at him, incredulous. “But you got home, didn’t you?”

He scoffed, clearly not pleased that I wasn’t groveling.

I turned back to my suitcase and continued packing. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.

“I thought we talked about this already,” he said sharply. “Why are you still packing?”

“Because I can’t spend one more minute in this house with you,” I replied flatly, zipping up one side of the suitcase.

“You’re not leaving,” he said, his tone final. “That’s not happening.”

I turned, fire burning behind my eyes. “And who exactly are you to order me around?”

“I’m your husband.”

“You were my husband,” I corrected coldly. “You signed the divorce papers. Remember?”

“That was because you filed for divorce,” he justified himself.

“That was because you cheated on me!” My voice cracked despite my efforts, the pain slipping through.

He exhaled sharply, clearly irritated. “Listen, Jane. No matter what you do or say, irrespective of whatever papers we signed, you’re not leaving this house.” He stepped closer, his eyes darkening. “Not with my child inside you.”

The words made my stomach twist. “So that’s it?” I laughed bitterly. “The child is the problem?” I lifted my chin. “Fine. I’ll get an abortion.”

Even the Devil himself knew I couldn’t do it. But Adrian didn’t need to know that.

His eyes hardened instantly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t tell me what I wouldn’t do,” I shot back. “You don’t know me anymore.”

He stared at me, calculating, dangerous, and silent.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Since the last business transaction is over, let’s strike another one.”

“I’m not marrying you again.”

“Neither would I,” he replied coolly.

The words sliced deeper than I expected, but I swallowed the pain. “Then talk,” I said. “What do you want?”

“Until the child is born, you stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you to protect my child,” he replied.

I laughed, sharp and humorless. “That’s rich. And you think you can do better?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I’m his father.”

“And I’m her mother!” I snapped. “She’s still inside my body.”

“He,” Adrian corrected sharply.

I rolled my eyes. “We don’t even know the gender.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he retorted.

“So?” I demanded.

“You stay until the child is born. After that, you’re free to leave,” he said.

“Alone,” he added.

My heart dropped. “What?”

“You won’t take my child with you,” he said like he was announcing the weather.

“That’s not your decision!” I was going crazy.

“You’re unstable,” he said coldly. “You fainted. You caused a scene. You make emotional decisions.”

“I was betrayed!” I tried to defend myself.

“And you’ll continue making reckless choices,” he interrupted. “I won’t allow my child to be raised by someone who acts on emotion instead of logic.”

“You don’t get to take my child away from me!” I yelled.

“Let the court decide that,” he said with finality.

Silence slammed into me.

The court.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’ll lose,” I said, though doubt crept in.

“I won’t,” he replied calmly. “I have resources. Influence. Stability. And you? You’ll be painted as the emotional, unreliable ex-wife.”

My hands shook. “So what,” I whispered. “You think money makes you a better parent?”

“No,” he said. “It makes me the winning one.”

I clenched my jaw. “Then here are my terms.”

He raised a brow.

“I stay,” I said. “But you don’t touch me. You don’t control me. And you don’t use this pregnancy for your reputation.”

His lips thinned. “Unacceptable.”

“And I get joint custody,” I added. “No matter what.”

He laughed softly. “You’re asking for too much.”

“And I choose my doctor,” I continued. “My therapist. And I won’t sleep in your room.”

“No!” he negated firmly.

“And if you try to manipulate me again,” I finished quietly, “I expose everything.”

That got his attention, as the room stretched tight between us.

“…Fine,” he said at last. “Temporary.”

“Everything about you is temporary,” I

replied.

His jaw clenched, but he nodded.

We had an agreement, not peace, not love. Just war...with rules. And this time, I wasn’t entering it blind.