FIANCÉ FELL 9
“Congratulations. You’ve finally gotten what you’ve always wanted by any means necessary.“[] Isa’s face twisted momentarily, her voice turning sharp: “What nonsense are you talking about? Chuck married me because he loves me! I was in a good mood, so I agreed to let you live!“] This couple shared certain traits–they both gave people headaches when they lost their temper.[] I calmly asked her to leave: “Are you finished? If so, can you leave now?“[] Isa didn’t move. Suddenly, she laughed.[] She reached out and snapped the fresh, beautiful lisianthus on the table, throwing it to the ground and crushing it.[] “It doesn’t matter what you say. You have nothing now. Just struggle through life from now on.“[] Watching the flower petals scattered across the floor, a dark fire ignited within me.] r’decided I decided to tell her something she would otherwise learn in the future. “Who says I have nothing?” Isa turned back, confused. I spoke slowly, enunciating each word: “Chuck signed an agreement with me before the surgery. If the operation succeeded, all assets in his name would belong ne.” to me. “Thanks to you two, I’m now not only healthy but also wealthy.” Chuck had begged me to sign this agreement, promising he would honor it no matter what.[] To be honest, I was afraid I might survive but lose everything. Fortunately, I had prepared thoroughly. After I gave him a harsh reality check, he lost control and returned to what was once our home.] I asked Aunt Cynthia to secretly go there and bring Chuck some things. When Aunt Cynthia returned, she gave me an “OK” gesture. I knew the plan had worked. She told me Chuck had passed out on the sofa, reeking of alcohol, clutching our engagement photo. On the TV played “The Final Documentary that Lucien had made for me, on repeat.] In the footage, with tears in my eyes, I told the story of Chuck and me over ten years, my voice both gentle and desperate.]] On the coffee table lay an agreement that had been hidden behind the photo–written by Chuck ten years ago for our “future selves.” He wrote it the night I miscarried.]…