After My Sister Took My Dowry and Groom

The servant's footsteps echoed down the hallway as she ran to deliver her news. I could picture her wide eyes, the excitement of bearing important information. In the ballroom, the celebration continued—champagne glasses clinked while Emanuel and Adeline accepted congratulations from guests who had no idea of the betrayal that had just taken place.

But upstairs, in Kareem's study, the mood was about to change.

"Sir!" The servant burst through the door, her voice breathless. "Miss Lillian—she's gone!"

"Gone where?" My father's voice would be calm at first, controlled. That was always his way—maintaining composure until the threat became clear.

"In a car, sir. With the presidential seal on the doors."

The silence that followed would be deafening. I could imagine my father's face draining of color, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white.

"The President?" Emanuel's voice would cut through the silence, sharp with panic. "What does Riley Montgomery want with her?"

My father would be the first to recover, his mind already calculating. "If the President starts investigating Lillian's background..."

"He'll find everything," Emanuel finished, his voice hollow. "The embezzlement, the fraud—all pinned to her name."

"And my political career," Emanuel added, pacing now. "If he discovers I betrayed his... interest... I'll be finished."

They didn't care about me. They never had. They cared about what I could do for them—and what my association with the President could cost them.

"We need to get her back," Kareem said, his voice hardening with resolve. "Now."

---

The car moved smoothly through the night, Marcus Webb's steady presence beside me a stark contrast to the chaos I'd left behind. We were close to the presidential compound—so close to safety.

"Lillian George?" A police car suddenly pulled alongside us, lights flashing. "We need you to pull over immediately."

Marcus frowned. "That's not protocol. Something's wrong."

Before he could radio for backup, two more police cars blocked our path. Uniformed officers approached, their expressions grim.

"We've received a report concerning Miss George's mental welfare," one officer announced. "We need to conduct a wellness check."

"I'm fine," I said firmly, but my voice sounded small even to my own ears.

The officer's eyes flicked to Marcus. "Sir, we have orders from the George family attorney. Miss George is to be returned home immediately."

"These orders supersede any previous arrangements," another officer added, producing paperwork that looked official in the dim light.

I recognized the signature at the bottom—Kareem George. My father.

"Miss George requires medical attention," the first officer continued smoothly. "Her time at the convent has left her unstable. Her family is deeply concerned."

Before Marcus could protest further, Emanuel appeared beside the car, his face a perfect mask of concern.

"Lillian, darling," he said, his voice dripping with false tenderness. "You shouldn't be running off like this. You're not well."

His hand closed around my arm, fingers digging into my flesh. "Come home. We can sort everything out."

I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but calculation. No love. No remorse. Just fear—fear of what I might reveal to the President.

---

The guest wing of the George estate had always been my favorite place—sunlight streamed through tall windows, and the garden view was beautiful. But tonight, as they locked the door behind me, it felt like a prison cell.

The windows were sealed shut. The phone had been removed. A single bed, a small dresser, and a chair were the only furniture.

"Lillian, sweetheart." Janelle's voice came through the door as she unlocked it and stepped inside. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expression perfectly crafted to appear maternal and concerned.

"You've worried us all sick," she said, sitting beside me on the bed. "Running off like that, to a man who barely knows you."

"He knows enough," I replied quietly.

Janelle's smile tightened. "Oh, Lillian. You've always been so naive. President Riley doesn't care about you—he cares about using you. A disgraced woman, desperate for attention."

She reached out to brush a strand of hair from my face. I flinched away.

"It was your duty as the elder sister," she continued, her voice hardening slightly. "To step aside for Adeline's happiness. You've always been stronger than her—you could survive the convent. She couldn't."

"So you gave her my dowry? My dress? My future?"

"We gave her what she needed," Janelle corrected, her eyes cold despite her smile. "And now you need to understand your place. Stay here, be quiet, and eventually we'll find a suitable arrangement for you."

"Don't trust him, Lillian," she whispered as she stood to leave. "Men like President Montgomery don't fall in love with girls like you. They use them."

The lock clicked into place as she left, leaving me alone with the echoes of her words and the memories of a lifetime where I'd believed them.