Chapter 12: The Trap
297 words
The morning sun offered no warmth as I walked into the kitchen, the memory of the $4.6 million check hidden in my bra burning against my skin like a brand. I forced my shoulders to slump, mimicking the posture of the beaten woman Richard expected to see. He was already at the table, a pen clicking rhythmically in his manicured hand, a plate of half-eaten eggs pushed aside.
"Finally awake?" Richard sneered, running a hand through his dyed, jet-black hair. "I didn't think you had the guts to face reality, Loretta."
"I'm ready, Richard," I said, my voice intentionally quiet. "I just want this over with."
He smirked, sliding the papers across the Formica. "Good. I added a little something. A standard clause. 'Loretta Miller waives all claim to Richard Miller’s future earnings and business disputes.' I can't have you coming after my empire when it finally takes off."
His "empire" was a string of failed dropshipping schemes and maxed-out credit cards. I picked up the pen, feigning hesitation. The ink felt heavy in my hand.
"I understand," I said, looking at the floor. "But I need protection too. I want a clause that says you waive all claims to any inheritance, gifts, or settlements I receive. My aunt in Tulsa isn't doing well."
Richard burst out laughing, a wet, hacking sound. "That old bat? She has nothing but cats and mothballs. Fine. If it makes you sign faster, write it in. I don't need your pocket change."
He scribbled the addendum himself, eager to shackle me to his debt. He signed with a flourish, pressing hard enough to dent the paper. He thought he was burying me.
I signed my name next to his, suppressing the urge to scream. The trap was set.
End of Chapter 12
