bChapter /b142

    LACEY

    “There’s no gun,” I say, voice calm, smile stretched tight across my face. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

    My fingers twitch, aching to hurt her in some way –

    of what she’s done to me.

    —

    something to make her feel a fraction

    —

    Then I catch Liam’s look – worried, wary – and watch him press a kiss to Emilia’s palm before guiding her away. It douses the fire just enough to remind me I’m notpletely

    unhinged. Not yet.

    Still, it kills the high. Like someone switching off the music at a party just when the beat drops. Sanity – boring, exhausting sanity

    boring, exhausting sanity – pulls me back in before I get the satisfaction I

    want.

    But I stay. I face her.

    Céline’s eyes flicker. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of, and that’s enough. The fear is

    real. I can see it.

    She tries to scoff, but her voice is tight. “You’re fucking crazy.”

    I tilt my head, the smile never moving. “Thank you.”

    I step closer, slow and steady. A final warning.

    She knows I could still burn everything down. And maybe one day, I will.

    “Out of curiosity,” I say, tilting my head, “how much did Eric pay you for a ni-”

    “I’m not a fucking whore!” she snaps, ripping herself from my grasp. Her voice shakes. Her lips tremble. For the first time, she looks lost really lost.

    And for a second, I almost pity her.

    Almost.

    —

    “What are you thenb?/bb” /bbI /bmurmurb, /bpulling out my phone. “Because you sure fooled meb./bb” /b

    She opens her mouth to bite backb, /bbut I’m already holding bthe /bscreen out for her to see.

    b1/3 /b

    My hands are damp, and my chest bfeels /blike it’s copsing in on itselfb, /bbut I push through it. Because this – this is power. It’s pain and control all at once, and for the first time in years,

    feel alive.

    Her face drains of colour. “Is that…?”

    I

    “Fifteen million,” I say evenly. “Get out of my sight, Céline. While I’m still in the mood to be generous.”

    T

    H

    H

    5

    2

    ” #

    HIT B

    1:2

    +

    th

    I turn before she can speak again, walking in the direction Liam and Emilia disappeared. The heel of my sneakers click softly against the floor, but inside, everything is quiet.

    There’s nothing left to cling to now no friendship to salvage, no child to grieve, no marriage to fight for. I’ve given up the version of myself I spent years building. The woman who held it all together. The woman who smiled through betrayal, who forgave too much and

    asked for too little.

    Who am I now, if not a best friend? Not a wife? Not a mother?

    Just Lacey.

    And maybe, finally, that’s enough. Maybe not today. But someday.

    I wipe at the corners of my eyes, not caring if the mascara’s smeared. I’m done performing. I’m done bleeding for people who’d never take a paper cut for me.

    Then she calls out, voice thin and wounded. “So that’s it? You won’t beg me to stay? You

    won’t even ask why?”

    I don’t stop. I don’t turn.

    “Make sure you take Stone with you,” is all I say.

    No screaming. No sobbing. Just finality.

    I bkeep /bwalking.

    And behind meb, /ba door that’s taken years to close finally ms shut. And in the silence it

    bleaves /bbehind, bI /bcan breathe.

    LIAM

    “bIt’s /btoo early bto /bbget /bdrunk,” I bsay/bb, /boffering her bthe /bred Solo bcup /banyway.

    Lacey takes it, sniffs, then lets out a shortugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

    “This is beer, Calloway.”

    “The kind you can drink without ending up on the news. Think of it as emotional support.”

    She takes a long sip. Emilia stays quiet beside me, her body pressed close, our knees just barely touching. It should be enough contact to feel grounded. It isn’t. She keeps ncing between me and Lacey, like she’s waiting for her to fall apart.

    Then finally, she speaks, voice soft. “Are you… are you really okay?”

    We’re at the stools by the poolside bar. Most of the ship’s still in the gym, and the few people who wander in and out of the pool look more like ghosts than guests. Even the conversations around us feel muted out here.

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