se

ole house shook. I heard the roar of his ca

apers were gone. Replaced by a crumpled mess in the wastebasket. He had torn t

nst the polished wood of the ta

. His arm was around her, possessive. The caption read: "Grayson is finall

ekend getaway, a childish doodle he'd drawn for her. She always played the innocent, fragile artist, but her messages were laced with venom. She' d even tried to 'vent' to me a

p. Grayson, asleep, his head on her pillow. And he was wearing... my silk p

a silly little thing Grayson did to make me feel secure. He loves me. He's always loved me." Then, the lines that sent a jol

s he said made my smile light up a room. It wasn' t about my untamed spirit, or my charming smil

n't just physical nausea. It was pure, unadulterated disgust. Disgust for him, for her, for myself for being

er. I was a breeding vessel. A surrogate. A placeholder for a woman who co

My heart felt like it had been ripped fro

ed a single message back to Kira: "Enjoy your second-

creen. I remembered how he'd once screamed at me for even daring to w

ught, I tapped "bloc

line. For tomorrow morning. I didn't have much. Just a few boxes of books, some clothes, a

last time. This extravagant house, this gilded cage. It

The air, heavy with his deceit,

rgotten fig tree struggling for light. I carried it out to the car, ge

ut clean. I repotted the fig tree, placing it by the window where the aftern

private number. I hesitated, th

lipped and formal. "Mr. Graves

do you think you're doing? Why are you trying to provoke Kira? She's delicat

lways her heart. Never mine. Ne

edge creeping in. "Come back, and we can forget all this. I'll even

ut me. He only cared about the child, about the heir he needed for Kir

ening to me?" His vo

end call" button. Then I blocked his

I wouldn't disturb them