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The promised.

The curse.

The one person capable of balancing him.

“Oh my Goddess.”

“I was running out of time.”

“How much?”

He doesn't answer.

“Damian.”

“I turned forty at the beginning of the year.”

I stare at him.

“That was the deadline?”

“Yes.”

“And you knew this when I moved in?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly every cruel thing he said takes on a different shape.

Sell me the house.

This town isn't for a woman like you.

This place will eat you alive.

You shouldn't trust me.

My throat tightens.

“That's why you wanted me gone.”

“Yes.”

“Not because you found me lacking?”

His head jerks back.

“What?”

I hate how small the question sounds. But it's out now.

“Not because I wasn't... I don't know. Powerful enough. Thin enough. Pretty enough. Whatever enough.”

For one second, Damian looks genuinely horrified. Then furious.

“What the fuck?”

I flinch. Not from him. From myself. Because, of course, that was still buried somewhere inside me.