Chapter 29: Totally Insane

By the time I got back into my car, I was running purely on fumes — frustration, confusion, heartbreak, and the kind of exhaustion that felt too deep for sleep to fix. The city blurred past in streaks of gray and gold, the world outside my windshield both too loud and too quiet at once. I kept driving aimlessly, no destination, no real thought except that I needed to move.

The motion calmed me in a strange way, the rhythm of traffic lights and the soft hum of the engine dulling the noise in my head. But then, every time I hit a red light, every time I stopped, my brain betrayed me. His face flashed through my mind again — Kevin’s — that look in his eyes when he walked away, that voice that had become the only sound I craved and hated at the same time.

I must’ve called him a hundred times. Maybe more. My call log was filled with his name, the same one flashing over and over again, unanswered. Straight to voicemail. Every time I heard the automated message, something inside me cracked a little more.

I pressed the phone to my chest and whispered, “Where are you?” knowing damn well it was pointless.

At one point, I thought I’d pull over for a drink — something strong enough to burn the ache right out of me — but I didn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew how that would end. I’d drown myself in whiskey and wake up feeling emptier. So I just kept driving, the city lights reflecting in my teary eyes, until I couldn’t tell what was rain on the windshield and what wasn’t.

By the time I finally turned into the driveway of my father’s mansion, I was running on autopilot. My hands felt numb on the steering wheel. The gate lights flared across the hood as it opened, and for a second, I just sat there, staring at the house like it was some stage I didn’t want to walk onto.

Dinner. He’d texted earlier — “Come home early for dinner, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

I almost laughed. I should’ve known it wouldn’t just be dinner. Nothing in this house ever was.

When I walked in, the warmth of the chandeliers and the faint scent of roasted food hit me like a mockery. I slipped off my heels at the door and carried them along with my bag, my feet too tired to pretend I was the daughter my father still believed I could be.

“Oh, there you are, Abby…” My father’s voice came from the dining area, full of that rehearsed cheer that made my skin crawl. “Right on time.”

He was smiling — a practiced kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I could see Nina sitting beside him, perfectly composed in that icy, self-satisfied way she always was.

I forced myself to walk closer, running a hand through my hair to tame the chaos that the day had left behind. I felt heavy — like my body was dragging around everything I didn’t want to feel.

“You’ll make a fine bride,” Nina said as I passed her, her tone dripping with sweet venom.

For a second, I didn’t even process what she meant. The words slipped right past me, my brain too fried to decode anything. But when I reached the table and saw the unfamiliar man standing beside my father, everything inside me stilled.

He turned to face me, and it took me a moment — a beat too long — to place him. That sharp jawline, that smug expression. Then it hit me like a slap.

The guy from earlier. The one I’d bumped into at the elevator.

No wonder the universe had felt off since then.

“Abby,” my father began, his tone full of pride, as if this was some grand introduction. “This is Jordan Russell… the man I deem suitable to be your husband.”

For a second, I just stood there. My mouth fell open slightly, but no sound came out. I thought I’d misheard him. Surely I had.

Husband?

My eyes flicked to Jordan, who had that same cocky smirk from earlier — the kind that made you want to throw something at his face. He extended his hand toward me like this was some corporate deal being finalized.

“Nice to meet you… Abby,” he said slowly, drawing out my name like it was some inside joke.

I felt my stomach twist. The air around me seemed to thicken. My pulse was in my throat.

This couldn’t be real.

I turned to my father, searching his face for a hint of reason, a sign that this was some mistake. But he looked pleased. Pleased. Like he’d just secured a successful merger, not sold his daughter off like property.

And then I saw Nina’s expression — that smug little smirk tugging at the corners of her painted lips. That was when it hit me.

This wasn’t my father’s idea. He might’ve agreed, but it reeked of her manipulation. Her touch. She was pulling the strings — maybe whispering in his ear about alliances, about business, about family legacies. And he, blinded by ambition, had let her.

Something in me snapped then.

The day had already been a mess — Kevin’s silence, Stephen’s kiss, my spiraling emotions — but this? This was the final straw.

I looked at Jordan, at that hand still hanging between us, and I felt something hot and electric rise in my chest.

“Fuck off,” I said, my voice cutting through the room like glass.

The silence that followed was sharp and suffocating. My father froze mid-breath, Nina’s eyes widened slightly — not out of shock, but amusement — and Jordan’s smirk faltered for the first time.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away, my heart pounding in my ears.

I didn’t care if I looked dramatic. I didn’t care if I was breaking some social expectation of grace and obedience.

All I knew was that I wasn’t going to stand there and let Nina win — not with her manipulations, not with her smug little smile, and definitely not by forcing some stranger into my life.

As I stormed up the stairs, I could feel my father calling after me, his voice muffled by the blood rushing in my ears. But I didn’t stop.

If Nina thought she could play me like this — she was wrong.

I would find out what she was planning, and I would tear it all down.

Even if it meant burning everything else with it.