I'm in my room and glanced at my phone, half-expecting to see messages from James, but there's nothing. I almost laugh at myself.
James, my latest boyfriend, the one I've been with for months now, still has no idea how different things are for me. He's never seen me without my designer bags and endless shopping sprees. He's just… oblivious. And for now, that's exactly how I want it.
I send him a text, asking if he wants to hang out today. I don't care what we do, just something to escape this suffocating reality for a while. After a few minutes, the screen lights up. He's in.
The sound of James's car pulling into the driveway makes me feel like I'm finally escaping from the suffocating silence of the Montgomery house.
I stand by the door, my designer bag in hand, looking at the sleek black car parked in front of the mansion. James is leaning out of the window, giving me a wink as I approach.
"Ready for a fun day?" he asks, the grin on his face making my frustration melt away, at least for a moment.
I climb into the passenger seat, letting the door slam shut behind me. The car smells like expensive leather and his cologne. As we drive, the wind rushes through my hair, and for the first time in days, I feel free. Free from the expectations of the Montgomery house, free from Rafael's scrutinizing eyes.
We head to one of the most expensive malls in the city, and I know exactly where I'm going, the designer boutiques I've frequented for years. Chanel, Gucci, Prada, the places I feel at home in, the places where I can lose myself in the sea of luxury.
"I'm thinking of picking up a few things," I say, turning to James, who's already pulling into the parking lot. "You know, just a few basics to start my new life here."
James laughs, though I know it's a little nervous. "A few things? You're not fooling me, Amanda. You're going to buy the whole store."
"Maybe," I say with a wink, unbothered. "But I have to make a good first impression here, right?"
We walk into Chanel, where the salespeople practically bow to me. I let them show me bags and shoes, piling them into my arms like they're meant for me. James watches quietly, only raising an eyebrow when I pull out his credit card to pay for a new purse and a pair of heels.
Smiling as I swipe my card. "You don't mind, do you? It's for a good cause."
James doesn't argue. I can see the tension in his face, the same way he always looks when he's paying for things he knows he shouldn't. But he doesn't stop me. He never does.
After shopping at several other high-end stores, I've maxed out my old lifestyle. I can feel the weight of the bags in my arms, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except for the moment I get to pretend like everything is still normal, like I can still have everything I want.
By the time we're done, it's late in the evening. James drives me back to the Montgomery mansion, the dark sky above reflecting my mood perfectly. The bags are piled in the backseat, and my head is buzzing with the satisfaction of another successful shopping spree.
As we pull into the driveway, I notice the lights on inside the house, and a sudden sense of dread fills me. I don't know why, but something about this night feels wrong.
When we reach the front door, there he is, Rafael, standing with his arms crossed, his jaw tight, and his eyes focused on me. The moment I see him, my stomach flips, and I suddenly feel small.
I push the car door open, hoping I can just sneak past him. But Rafael steps forward, his gaze dark and unwavering.
"Amanda," his voice is calm, but there's a certain edge to it. It's like the calm before the storm. "You're late."
"I'm sorry, I lost track of time," I say, trying to brush it off, but the irritation is already creeping into my voice. I don't need his judgment.
"Don't make excuses." His words are cutting. "Your parents told me to make sure you don't stay out late, especially without telling anyone where you're going."
I can feel James standing behind me, tense, unsure whether to speak up. But Rafael's eyes are on him now, his gaze turning icy as he looks James up and down.
"I don't want anyone coming into this house late again." Rafael says, his voice steady but dripping with authority. "And especially not without permission." He throws James a sharp glance, making him feel like an outsider.
James opens his mouth as if to protest, but I quickly cut him off. "It's fine, James. Don't worry about it."
James seems to hesitate but eventually nods. "Alright, then. See you, Amanda."
As James drives off, I feel the weight of Rafael's gaze on me. The bags in my hands feel like anchors, like they're weighing me down.
I take a deep breath, trying to control the rage bubbling inside me. I don't want him to see how angry I am. But I can't help it. I hate this, I hate being controlled.
"I don't need you to lecture me, Rafael," I snap, my voice trembling with frustration. "I don't care what my parents asked you to do. I don't need you following me around, telling me when to come home."
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't shout. He's always so calm, so collected, and that makes it worse. It makes me feel even more out of control, even more like I'm a child in his eyes.
"You'll have to get used to it." Rafael says, his tone even, though there's a flicker of something darker in his eyes. "Your parents trust me to look after you. And if you can't follow the rules, then I'll have to make sure you do."
I step past him, fuming. "You're not my father, Rafael. Don't pretend you are." I walk into the house, throwing my shopping bags down onto the couch with a loud thud.
He doesn't follow me. I can hear him standing in the doorway, his presence heavy in the room. I hate him. I hate how calm he is, how he always acts like he has all the answers. Like he's in control of my life.
I storm up to my room, the anger threatening to swallow me whole. How dare he act like I need him to watch over me? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for him to be the one who polices my life.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but the words still echo in my mind: Your parents told me to watch over you.
It doesn't matter that he's right. I still hate that he's the one doing it.
I sit down on the edge of my bed, staring at the bags I bought earlier. For a moment, I feel the empty satisfaction of the purchases, the fleeting escape they give me. But even that feels hollow now, with Rafael's words still burning in my chest.