Chapter 4: Breaking the Chains

Just then, my mother, Marilyn, messaged me: [Ryan just told me you're threatening divorce.]

[Are you just acting up because you're pregnant? Is your brain not working?]

[And during early pregnancy, you have to watch what you eat. Don't let yourself get fat like a pig, okay?]

Ryan was good at using people.

Like using Marilyn to control me.

I didn't flinch. I replied: [Got it, Mom.] Then I turned off my phone.

I picked up another slice of toast and started eating.

With my tendency to gain weight, I'd always had to go hungry just to meet their beauty standards.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my pale, thin wrist, the silver bracelet gleaming.

At forty, years of undereating and depression would make me so thin that the bracelet would almost slide up to my upper arm.

Even driving became exhausting, and in the end, I died in a car accident.

I don't want to be frail and pitiful.

I want to be healthy and strong.

I won't waste my whole life on broken love.

By the end, the toast tasted salty.

Even after eating my fill, I threw up most of it.

Slumped on the sofa, I flipped through the equity transfer agreement.

Before we got together, I invested $90,000 in Ryan's startup, Apex, for a 20% stake. This transfer was for that portion.

When I saw the transfer price—one dollar—and my own signature, scrawled without hesitation,

I slowly covered my face and let out a bitter laugh.

When you're not being stupid, you start to really see things.

I really thought Ryan was different.

When I met him six years ago, he always seemed confident, rational, talented, and aboveboard.

After I failed a licensing exam my senior year, my friend Claire introduced me to a local company as a temp.

Ryan was my supervisor.

He never hesitated to praise me, but never commented on me personally. He'd stop others from making me do work outside my job, and during exam season, he'd let me leave on time.

He was also the second person to stand up for me in front of my mother, Marilyn.

The first year I failed the exam, Marilyn came to the company demanding I quit and focus on studying.

She was harsh, calling me useless, lazy, unambitious.

She dragged me to HR, insisting I resign on the spot.

Ryan stepped in front of me, polite but firm. "Ma'am, Autumn is on my team. Even if she resigns, it has to go through proper channels."

"If you cause losses to our company, we can sue you."

"Please leave, or I'll call security."

Marilyn was always over the top, but she was talented, bold, and sharp.

Not getting help was my default state.

I followed Ryan nervously, apologizing.

His calm eyes held no judgment, only a smile. "It's fine, Autumn."

With him, I never had to explain or prove myself, and that made me feel strangely at ease.

At twenty-five, I finally got a job at Maple Heights University.

But Ryan was pushed out and laid off, planning to start his own business.

When I resigned, I worked up the courage to say, "Ryan, I overheard your phone call in the stairwell..."

"If you still need $90,000 for your startup, I can give it to you..."

He froze, looking a little uncomfortable.

I thought he didn't like me.

I quickly waved my hand, smiling. "It's not a gift. Just think of it as an investment, okay? I'll be working at Maple Heights, so I can't really do side jobs. I believe in you."

He relaxed and smiled, quickly grabbing my hand. "Thank you, Autumn. I really need this money."

"You'll get a cut of the profits."

I pulled my hand back, turning away so he wouldn't see me blush.

It stung that he didn't love me.

But I was also glad—he was honest, didn't take advantage of my feelings, didn't push his luck.

But now, Ryan is no different from Marilyn—judging me, picking me apart, draining me dry.

I flipped open the mortgage contract. The collateral was to add more investment to Apex.

This year, almost all his money went into the company. My salary kept the household running.

But the house was bought together, with both of us paying the mortgage.

If I didn't know how things ended, I probably would've transferred my shares for free, mortgaged our joint property, and quit my job because of pregnancy complications.

Then, every time we argued or he was dissatisfied, Ryan would say, "Autumn, look at this life—it's what I gave you. What more do you want?"

Outside, the maple trees were in full leaf.

Only now did I realize how cruel this story was to "Autumn."

"Being loved" was a curse that ruled her life.

From start to finish, Autumn didn't need to be loved. She just needed the right to choose.

With Marilyn, Autumn lost the right to choose her life, her studies, her work for over twenty years.

With Ryan, the next twenty years were nothing but "wife"—no other options.

For the empty title of love, Autumn handed over her rights, resources, and wealth.

She exiled herself to a position of weakness, begging for their love.

In the end, all she got was cheap regret after her death.

At the end of the contract, the signature of Ryan Miller stood out, bold and proud.

A sharp pain pricked at my heart.