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My muscles tense, trembling with every heartbeat.

His phone vibrates again on the bed, twisting the knife in my chest.

“If I wanted to fuck others, I wouldn’t have waited for you to do anything,” he says, eyes glued to the screen, ignoring me, blaming me for something I didn’t do, while reading erotic messages from someone else.

“You’re talking to me, you’re looking at me,” I say, voice fierce, yanking the phone from his hand.

His eyes snap to mine, stunned.

“I’m done here. I thought it was obvious,” he says dismissively, regaining his control.

The phone vibrates again in my hand. I turn it toward me. Six messages from Beatrix.

My chest hurts. Vision blurring, tears threatening to fall. I can’t stay here, I need to leave, collapse somewhere, anywhere, without him seeing.

Fueled by every ounce of anger, every shred of hate, I shove the phone onto his chest hard.

“Here. Don’t let her wait.” I release it and step back.

As I rise from the bed, I hear him, “Don’t forget your phone, Thalia,” he says, triumphant. A tone I’ll never forget.

I grab my phone from beside him, hands shaking, and leave. I don’t look back. I won’t return until the next day.

Let him call that Beatrix. Let him spend the night doing whatever he wants, whatever he needs.

I’m done.

Tonight, I’ll cry. But starting tomorrow, my mask will be in place. I’m a strong woman. I’ll be okay.

FIFTY-FOUR

Ethan

“The Bordeaux family took advantage of the scandal to cover up Antonia’s escape,” my father says from his chair behind the desk.

Colt and I sit across from him, with Mathew leaning casually against a cabinet beside us.

Nothing he’s saying is new to me. Antonia messaged me a few days after the gala, the night she kissed me, to let me know she reached her destination safely with her boyfriend and to thank me for helping her get away.

Her family never contacted me, probably thinking I’m offended she ran off and “broke the contract.” I, in turn, had no intention of reaching out. When the scandal involving Thalia exploded in the press, they stayed silent, the same immaculate silence they’ve always maintained.

Colt, the guys, and I know the real reason behind all of it; the rest of the world simply assumes we’re all maintaining discretion in the face of chaos.

“We know. It was obvious they’d do that,” Colt replies, his tone resolute.

“You handled the cleanup beautifully,” Mathew adds with a proud smile. “You guys are doing an excellent job.”

We gathered here to discuss the final stage of the hotel chain project we’re working on, but the conversation drifted toward the mess that hit the media a few weeks ago.

The moment our parents saw what was being written, especially about Thalia, they called us immediately, asking whether they should step in or if we wanted to handle everything ourselves.

They even suggested bringing Thalia home for a few days to make sure she was okay.

I didn’t give my opinion on that suggestion; Sierra and the guys seem to have taken care of her well enough during that period, but I assured them that we can manage the press on our own.

“Thalia seems fine,” Dad says, studying us carefully. “It seems she’s moved past that absolutely grotesque moment.”

I say nothing. I have nothing meaningful to answer. I don’t know how she felt. I don’t have any idea how she feels now.