Chapter 5 - The Weakest Link
That night, I sat in my apartment waiting for Brad. The contract remained on the kitchen island, a silent monster resting under the pendant lights.
When Brad unlocked the door at 7:00 PM, he looked exhausted. He dropped his briefcase by the door, saw my face, and froze.
"You talked to Mom," he murmured, his shoulders slumping immediately.
"She threatened to cut you out of your inheritance if I don't sign this," I said, pointing at the paper. "She told me she'll strip your trust fund and leave you with nothing."
Brad rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long, shuddering breath. He walked over to the island, leaning against the barstools.
"Linda... just sign it," he whispered, avoiding my eyes.
The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the air leave my lungs. "What?"
"Just sign it," Brad repeated, looking up at me with desperate, pleading eyes. "It's just paper, Linda. Mom won't actually restrict your money. She just wants to feel like she's in control. Once we're married and things settle down, I'll talk to her. We can modify the trust later."
"Modify it later?" I echoed, stepping back as if he had just transformed into a stranger. "Brad, she wants my paycheck! She wants eighty-five hundred dollars a month routed directly to her! She wants to give me an allowance!"
"It's twelve hundred dollars!" Brad argued, his voice rising in panic. "Twelve hundred dollars is plenty for personal spending! Everything else—our rent, our food, our vacations—will be paid out of the trust! You won't actually be losing anything!"
"I will be losing my freedom!" I shouted, tears finally breaking through my eyes—tears of rage and bitter disappointment. "I will be surrendering my autonomy to a woman who despises me! How can you ask me to do this?!"
"Because I don't want to lose my family!" Brad yelled back, his face turning red. "Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up with her? If she cuts me off, I have nothing! My salary at the logistics firm isn't enough to buy a house! I rely on that trust distribution, Linda! I've built my whole future around it!"
"Then earn your own future!" I pleaded, reaching out to grab his arms. "Brad, look at me! We don't need her trust fund! I make eighty-five hundred a month. You make fifty-two thousand a year. Together, we make over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars! We can buy our own house! We can build our own life without her breathing down our necks!"
Brad pulled his arms away from my grip. He looked at the floor, his jaw working silently.
"It's not that easy, Linda," he muttered weakly. "You don't understand how much money is in that trust. It's millions. I'm not going to throw away millions of dollars just because you're too proud to let my mother manage our accounts."
Too proud.
The words echoed in the quiet apartment.
I looked at Brad—really looked at him—and saw the horrifying truth I had been blind to for over a year. He wasn't steady. He wasn't a rock. He was a coward. He was a weak, dependent boy who had spent thirty years hiding behind his mother's velvet purse, and he was terrified of standing on his own two feet.
"You want me to sell myself to your mother so you can stay rich," I whispered, my voice dead and empty.
"That's not what I'm saying!" Brad shouted, flustered. "I'm saying we're a team! Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the team!"
"I am not sacrificing my life for Eleanor Vance," I said quietly.
Brad stared at me, his eyes flitting toward the contract on the counter. "The wedding is in three weeks, Linda. The venue is paid for. My family invited two hundred people. If you don't sign this, my mother will make the wedding an absolute nightmare."
"Let her try," I whispered.
May you like
Brad shook his head, pulled his jacket back on, and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
I stood alone in the dark kitchen, looking down at my engagement ring. The diamond felt heavy, cold, and completely worthless.
