Money Power 7

Emery’s POV

“Isabel…” I called out quietly before we stepped back into the house.

She turned toward me, hands folded in front of her apron like always. Her face was calm, unreadable. Still, she used the same tone she always did, like she was talking to someone far more important than me.

“Yes, ma’am?”

I swallowed, then forced a smile. I hoped it looked stronger than I felt. “Can you help me leave this place?”

For a second, she didn’t answer. Her eyes searched mine, and something in her expression shifted. We stood there longer than we should’ve, and then she gave a single nod.

“You deserve to be free, ma’am.” That was all it took to make my throat tighten. She knew, she always knew.

Later that night, I packed quietly. No tears and second-guessing. Just the essentials, some clothes, my passport, the ultrasound photo, and nothing else. I left the jewelry, the designer shoes, the luxury handbags.

They were all part of the life that had never really been mine.

The plan was simple. Disguise, distraction, and escape. I changed into one of Isabel’s spare maid uniforms, tying the apron over my stomach even though there was barely a bump to hide.

I tucked my hair into a cap, pulled my sleeves down, and kept my head low. Isabel stayed close, folding clothes, double-checking the hallway, never saying more than she needed to.

She didn’t ask why I was doing this, she didn’t have to.

The truth was, I had never been allowed to leave. Landon and I didn’t fall in love mutually. We didn’t even meet like regular people. Our marriage had been arranged, a business merger disguised as a wedding.

My family needed protection after a scandal threatened to destroy us, and the Remingtons needed a polished, scandal-free bride to soften Landon’s image in the press. I was the perfect fit.

Foreign, educated, well-mannered, and, most importantly, desperate enough to say yes.

The house looked like something out of a magazine, all glass and marble and quiet hallways. But it was a cage. I was expected to smile, sit still, and stay silent.

Portia controlled every part of my schedule. Lily kept tabs on my “behavior.” Landon… well, Landon kept his distance. He was polite, cold, and rarely around long enough to know who I really was. Maybe that was the point.

Every time I tried to leave the estate for more than a few hours, someone followed. The driver reported back to Portia. The staff watched everything, I couldn’t take a step without it being discussed at dinner.

I wasn’t a wife, I was an accessory. So, tonight, I wasn’t asking.

We waited until the house went still, after Portia had her nightly tea and disappeared into her spa room, after Lily posted another filtered picture with a caption about girlbossing, after the kitchen lights dimmed and the staff turned in for the night.

That was when we moved.

I zipped the small bag shut and froze. My wedding ring sat on the nightstand, catching the faint glow from the hallway. I walked over, slid it off, and placed it beside the lamp. No final words. No dramatic goodbye. Just a quiet end to something that never felt like mine to begin with.

Isabel looked at me. Her voice was gentle. “Are you sure, ma’am?”

I nodded. “It was never mine to hold on to anyway.”

We moved fast after that. She led me through the back corridors like it was just another night shift. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure someone could hear it. We reached the rear entrance, where a tired security guard sat sipping coffee and half-watching a tiny screen.

“She’s not feeling well,” Isabel said, nodding toward me. “Doctor says rest. I’m taking her home.”

He barely looked up. “Alright. Hope she feels better.”

We were almost out. I could see the gate. Then a voice rang out behind us. “Isabel?”

We both froze at Portia’s voice. Isabel didn’t blink as she stepped forward, grabbed the latch, and looked back at me.

“Go,” she whispered.

“But-”

“Go,” she repeated, firmer this time. “I’ll handle it.”

I hesitated for a second too long, but then I ducked through the gate, tugging my coat tighter as the cold night air hit me. My shoes crunched against the gravel. My chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. I didn’t look back.

The estate loomed behind me, glowing like a prison tower. But I didn’t cry nor flinch. I just kept walking, down the hill, across the quiet road, and into the dark. Every step felt heavier, but lighter at the same time, like the weight was finally moving from my chest to the pavement.

I looked up once at the sky, just to remind myself it was still there and then I whispered, “I’m finally free.”