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How had this happened? How had I let this happen?
My breath came in heaving gasps as I played through dozens of moments in my head, each one twisting like a knife in my heart. I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it coming.
But I’d believed them. I had believed all of it.
When Mason had found me in the bathroom at that party after I finally snapped, I’d thought things had shifted between us.
And they had.
Just not in the way I thought.
I had thought the battle was over, but all he’d done was change strategies. Instead of outright cruelty, they’d used kindness to disarm me, and when they’d found my most vulnerable spots, they’d struck. Again and again and again.
The dares. The drinking. The parties.
Even my birthday.
All designed to help them gather evidence against me, to paint a picture that told the story they wanted the world to see.
That I was trash.
A whore.
A disgrace to my family name.
Worse than my mother.
And the broken trust? My broken fucking heart? That was just a side benefit, like Mason had said. One more way for them to hurt me. Maybe they hadn’t even expected that part.
Wrapped up under the blankets, I cried until my eyes were swollen and puffy, my nose clogged, and my throat raw. And even when the tears stopped, the memories continued, refusing to be pushed aside.
I wished I could call Leah, but what would I say to her? She’d been right. She’d warned me. Why would she have any sympathy for me now?
The Princes had drawn me into their orbit, and like a moth drawn by bright light, I had flown too close. And holy fuck, had I gotten burned.
Was it all a lie?
…does it even matter?
I didn’t sleep, and as the sun began to warm the sky outside, I slipped out of bed. My school uniform was wrinkled, my hair a mess, but I didn’t bother trying to fix them as I padded barefoot down the stairs and out through the back garden. The sand under my feet was cool, and the rushing sound of the tide greeted me like an old friend.
Wading into the foamy waves, I let the water lap at my calves as I stared out at the vast beauty before me, trying to absorb its peace and violent strength into my soul.
I wouldn’t let my last memory of the ocean have the Princes it in.
I wouldn’t let them take this from me too.
By mid-morning, a plane ticket waited for me on the small table near the door in the foyer. The two bags I’d brought with me when I’d arrived from Sand Valley were there too, packed and ready to go.
My grandparents were nowhere to be seen.
I took two steps toward the hallway to Philip’s office, then stopped. There was nothing to say, really, was there? And if my grandpa had been locked in that room drinking all night, he wouldn’t be in any shape to hear whatever apologies or condemnations might fly out of my mouth.
So I just grabbed my bags and left.
The town car took me back to LAX. We drove past Oak Park thirty minutes after we left Roseland, and I found myself craning my neck to peer through the imposing black metal gates, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the Princes beyond. But the school grounds were empty, quiet—deceptively peaceful.
Just like the Princes themselves, there was no outward sign of the ugliness that lived within.
