When His Promise Ran Out Novel by Tessa Wycliffe _ Novel




When His Promise Ran Out Chapter 01

Ten years had passed since Tyrone Monroe brought me to Boston.
I was no longer the sheltered good girl I used to be, the woman everyone in Boston answered to
He once promised that when I finally stood as his equal, he would marry me.
So the day he came back from his business trip, I prepared a surprise proposal for him.
But he didn't come back alone—he brought a young woman named Lydia Montrose with him.
She hid behind him, clutching his sleeve, tears bright in her eyes.
"You're getting married. Does that mean you don't want me anymore?"
I gave a calm smile.
In all these years, Tyrone had never bent for any woman. Not even me. So I was sure he wouldn’t start now.
Tyrone frowned, irritated, yet still reached out to wipe Lydia’s tears.
"Sheesh," he muttered. "Girls are way too much work."
Just as I reached for the ring in my pocket, his careless voice stopped me. "Nat, Dia’s dream is to marry me on her twentieth birthday.
"Once she gets tired of playing wife, I’ll divorce her and marry you.
"It’s just a piece of paper. Don’t be petty over a girl who doesn’t know any better."
My smile froze, and my chest tightened.
He had no idea my ten-year agreement with Grandpa had just run out.
I would be leaving in seven days.
---
Lydia threw herself into Tyrone’s arms, rubbing her tear-streaked face against his coat.
"I knew it, Ty. You like me the most."
Tyrone hated mess. He hated stains. He hated anyone clinging to him.
But this time, he only frowned slightly without pushing her away. He even stroked her head.
There was a softness in his eyes I hadn’t seen in years.
I lowered my head before he could see the hurt in my eyes. Then I took two drags from the cigarette in my hand and slowly exhaled.
Ten years of saying yes to him ended right there.
"What if I don't agree?"
Tyrone froze for a moment, then lowered his head and let out a scoffing laugh. "Nat, if you want to be the woman at my side, you need to be more generous.
"I've made that promise, and I'm not about to break it.
"She’s just a spoiled little girl. This marriage doesn't mean anything.
"You're the one who'll be my real wife."
I had heard that excuse for ten years.
But this time, I knew it was different from every time before.
After a brief pause, he seemed to remember something, and a nostalgic smile tugged at his lips. "Don't you think she looks like the girl you used to be?"
I went still for a moment.
As my eyes landed on Lydia, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, my mind drifted back ten years, to when Tyrone and I first met.
Back then, Mom had just passed away. I fought with Dad, a stranger who only happened to live under the same roof, and then ran away from home.
I made it all the way to the river before a gang of street thugs surrounded me. I crouched on the ground, hugging my head tightly, too terrified to even cry for help.
Then Tyrone appeared and saved me.
With a cigarette hanging from his lips and his left hand tightly bandaged—a fact he completely ignored—he beat them down with his bare hands and kicked the worst of them into the river.
When I looked up and saw blood slowly dripping from his bandaged hand, I was so scared I burst into tears.
He gave a roguish grin and patted my head. "Little girl, hurry home. Stop running around."
In that moment, my heart pounded wildly.
After that, I insisted on following him, ignoring my family's objections and even threatening to cut ties with them.
That day at the dock, with a light breeze in the air, I spoke with all the courage I had, my face flushed. "Tomorrow is my twentieth birthday. I'm going with you, and you have to marry me."
The men he had beaten into submission burst out laughing.
"Boss, you really planning to bring home a young wife?" one of them said.
"Little girl, you picked the wrong man," someone else chimed in. "He’ll give you affection, sweetheart. Never a ring."
Tyrone pinched my cheek and smiled. "You're still too young right now. Ten years from now, if you're still running with me, we'll get married."
The cigarette burned down to my fingertips before I came back to myself.
The sheltered girl of ten years ago had long since forged herself into a formidable woman.
Everyone in Boston knew I was the only woman allowed in Tyrone Monroe’s bed. But anyone desperate for his favor kept sending women his way.
He never turned them down, never got serious with them, and never slept with them. He always said his wife had to be strong enough to stand beside him.
Every year on my birthday, he would smile and tell me to wait a little longer.
I once believed he meant what he said. Only now did I realize that he simply didn't love me.
Ten years had worn my patience down to nothing.
I'd waited long enough, and there was no end in sight—I was done.
I dropped the cigarette butt and ground it out under my black high heel.
My red lips parted, and my voice came out steady. "But Tyrone, I can't afford to wait anymore."

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