ra

rned and walked away from his office, his soft voic

as leaving would grant him a power over

anyway. That was the last piece o

. I had lived in this room for ten years,

r in my head. Every tick was a countdown

ght on the bedside table. My fingers traced the cool ceramic s

he corner into darkness. I didn't need it anymo

m the closet and began to pac

er given me. A silver locket; a first-edition copy of a book I'd mentioned onc

me. It was a physical sensation, a hollowness

wn the tidal wave of grief that was cl

e I'd started when I was eight, the year I came to live with him. It was filled with

d's hand. Here was an entry about how he'd carried me home after I'd fallen and scraped my knee. He had

y own handwriting replaced b

ad of being angry, he'd written on a blank

graduation, you will work for the Moretti Group. I will al

ng. Hi

cold shard inside me. With a guttural sob that I choke

, ten years of a lie. The sound was violent, satisfying.

e suitcase and zipped it shut. It was done. The

s no goi

veway. I peered through the curtains to see

ly around her waist, his head bent toward

. He alway

n the grand foyer. I forced myself to go

inding. She held out a small, beautifully wrapped box

nside, nestled on a velvet cushion, was a delicate,

l," I said, my

to Dante. "I thought i

tion that made my stomach clench. He didn't

at moment

d for

ence. He, who had personally vetted every piece of jewelry I'd ever worn, ensuring

orgotten that I was

, ramming into my chest. This wasn't

he one that made him pay attention to the little

rcing the smile to stay

ented my resolve. The protection I had mistaken

watch on my desk with a clatt

my fingers moving with

his name

options. Call. Mess

ssed Delete Contact. A s

ap, the hope I'd clung