Natalie’s POV
Two years can change everything, or it can change absolutely nothing at all.
For me, it was a bit of both.
The police couldn't actually charge me with anything back then because there was zero physical evidence that was connecting me to Tamara’s accident.
The taxi driver finally turned up his cash receipt log, which cleared my name legally, but the court of public opinion had already found me guilty.
The media had a field day with the jealous older sister narrative, and my family completely erased me.
So, I did the only thing I could do.
I packed one tiny suitcase and disappeared into the gray, exhausting background of the city.
Now, I lived in a cramped, drafty apartment on the edge of the city where the heater worked on occasion and the wallpaper peeled in fat, yellow strips.
My life was incredibly small.
By day, I worked at a tiny, depressing accounting firm where the boss yelled at me too much and paid too little.
I spent eight hours a day staring at spreadsheets, burying myself in numbers because numbers didn't lie, numbers didn't betray you, and numbers definitely didn't call you a monster.
Sometimes, when the office got quiet, I’d just sit there and look at my hands. But these days, I felt totally numb. There was a weird kind of peace in that numbness.
If you don't feel anything, nobody can hurt you.
I kept my head down, saved every single dollar I could squeeze from my paycheck, and dreamed of a future where nobody knew my face. I thought I had finally escaped the Calloway shadow. I really thought I was safe.
Then came the storm. It was a brutal Tuesday night, and the rain was violently slapping against my bedroom window. I was sitting at my rickety kitchen table, drinking lukewarm tea and double-checking a client's tax forms, trying to ignore the howling wind outside.
Suddenly, a loud, explosive crash echoed through the tiny hallway.
The sound of wood splintering and before I could even blink, my front door literally flew off its hinges, slamming face-down onto the cheap floor. I jumped out of my chair, my tea spilling all over the paperwork, my heart leaping straight into my throat.
A massive, imposing figure stood right in the open frame of my doorway.
The hall light caught him from behind, casting a long, terrifying shadow into my kitchen.
It was Tobias Calloway. He was completely soaked from the storm, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping heavily from the hem of his obviously expensive cashmere coat.
Even from across the room, the suffocating scent of high-end scotch and rain rolled off him in waves. His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might break.
But it was his eyes that made me freeze. They were completely wild, bloodshot, and filled with a dangerous, chaotic mix of agonizing grief and absolute, unadulterated cruelty.
He looked at me, and I could tell he didn't see a human being. He saw a monster. He saw the person who ruined his perfect life.
"Tobias," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. I forced myself to stand my ground, gripping the edge of the table so he wouldn't see my hands shaking. "What are you doing here? You can't just break into my apartment."
"Shut up, Natalie," he snarled, his voice incredibly low, rough, and dripping with venom. He took a predatory step inside, his muddy boots heavy against the floorboards. "Just close your mouth."
"Get out before I call the police," I said, trying to sound a lot braver than I actually felt.
Tobias let out a dark, breathless laugh that sounded totally unhinged. He walked right up to me, invading my space until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "The police? Go ahead. Call them. Tell them the man whose life you destroyed is standing in your kitchen. See who they lock up first."
"I didn't do anything, Tobias. The investigation proved I had nothing to do with the crash. A drunk driver hit you," I said, looking straight into his eyes.
"Don't lie to me!" he roared, suddenly slamming his fist down onto the wooden table. The remaining tea cup rattled and shattered against the floor. "You destroyed my family. You took Tamara's legs! She’s confined to a wheelchair every single day because of your sick, jealous games, and you get to sit here in your quiet little hiding spot like you did nothing wrong?"
"I am not lying. I loved my sister," I muttered, my voice getting colder as the pressure mounted. I could feel my walls going up, that familiar ice settling in my veins. "If you came here just to scream at me for something I didn't do, you can leave."
"Oh, I'm not leaving without what I came for," Tobias whispered, his eyes narrowing into cruel slits. He reached into his damp coat pocket and pulled out a crisp, white folded document, flinging it carelessly onto the wet table between us.
I looked down at it. The words on the front page made my breath catch. It was a marriage license. Already processed, already stamped, just missing my signature.
"What is this?" I asked, looking back up at him.
"Your new reality," Tobias said, leaning over the table, his face inches from mine. "Your family is completely done, Natalie. Did you really think you could just run away and leave them to pick up the pieces? Your father's old debts caught up to him last week. My father bought out every single one of their bank loans. He’s prepared to seize their house, their assets, and throw your pathetic mother onto the streets by tomorrow morning. They will have absolutely nothing."
My stomach dropped. I hated my mother for what she did to me, but the thought of her completely ruined, begging on the streets, made a sickening wave of guilt wash over me. "Why are you doing this, Tobias?"
"Because someone has to pay for Tamara’s pain," he whispered, his breath hot against my cheek. "And my father made a deal with your mother. The Calloway Group needs a distraction from our internal corporate drama, and your mother wants her lifestyle protected. So, we give the public a story. A grand gesture of forgiveness. The billionaire marries the tragic, reformed sister. But behind closed doors? You belong to me."
"You want to marry me? Out of hatred?" I asked, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. "You're insane."
"I am furious," Tobias corrected, his grip tightening on the back of my chair until his knuckles turned white. "You think you get to live a peaceful life after what you did? No way. You are going to sign those papers, Natalie. You are going to come back to New York with me, and you are going to live in my house as a ghost. I am going to make your life an absolute living hell. You will look at me every day and remember the price of your sins. That is your penance."
I stared at the marriage license, my mind racing at a million miles an hour. My monologue inside my own head was pure, cold calculation.
I looked at Tobias. He was completely blinded by his grief, acting entirely on drunk, reckless emotion. He thought he was setting a trap for me, but he didn't realize something crucial about me. I don't break easy. I never have.
If I refused, my family would be destroyed, and the Calloways would use their massive corporate power to hunt me down anyway. I’d spend my life running, broke and terrified.
But if I signed? I would have a roof over my head. I would be working inside the Calloway circle. I could use my accounting skills to look into their finances, save every single penny of my own, and build a massive financial cushion.
Tobias was drunk, angry, and unstable. I just had to outlast his anger. I had to endure the torment, pocket my resources, and wait for the perfect moment to walk away with my pockets full.
"And if I sign?" I asked quietly, looking up from the paper. "You leave my family alone?"
"The second your signature is on that paper, my father will cancel your mother's debts," Tobias said, his lips curling into a satisfied, mocking smile. "But don't think this means I'll ever treat you like a wife. I won't touch you. I won't sleep with you. I won't even look at you unless I'm reminding you of how much I despise you. You will be a prisoner in a golden cage."
"Fine," I said.
Tobias blinked, completely thrown off by how quickly I agreed. He expected me to cry, to beg for mercy, to throw a tantrum. But I just reached into my cardigan pocket, pulled out a cheap black pen, and clicked it open.
"You're not going to fight it?" he asked, his voice dropping into a suspicious whisper. "Just like that?"
"You said it yourself, Tobias. I don't have a choice," I said, keeping my face entirely blank. I didn't want him to see the sharp, calculating gears turning behind my eyes. "If this is what it takes to fix the mess, let's get it over with."
I leaned over the table, smoothing down the damp edges of the paper. My hands didn't shake as I slid the pen across the dotted line.
I wrote my name clearly, watching the dark ink seal my fate. Natalie Kale. Soon to be Natalie fucking Calloway.
I capped the pen and tossed it onto the paper, looking straight into his wild, dark eyes.
"There," I said, my voice completely devoid of any emotion. "I’m all yours, Tobias. Let's see who breaks first."
Tobias snatched the paper off the table, folding it roughly and shoving it back into his coat.
He stared at me for one long, breathless moment, clearly infuriated by the fact that he hadn't managed to make me cry.
He wanted to see me suffer, but all he got was a wall of ice.
"Pack a bag," he ordered sharply, turning on his heel and walking toward the shattered doorway. "The car is downstairs. We’re doing this tonight."
I didn't answer him. I just turned around, walked into my tiny bedroom, and pulled my old suitcase out from under the bed, fully prepared to return to a new life of torture.