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“You own the Resplendent Theatreandthe Lacuna network,” I said, begging him to correct me, begging him to say something that could fix all of this.
The Resplendent Theatre couldn’t hire me because of a financial hold, as in thebillionaireowner refused to pay for the services they needed. Now, just likeWhat the What?, they were being forced to shut down production of shows.
Money corrupted people. Always.
Oscar was shutting down everything—crushing my dream and Layana’s. That couldn’t be right. None of this was right. I needed him to explain. Then he could fix what had to be a misunderstanding. He was supposed to be different.
I believed that what we’d had was real.
I believed that he was the kind of man I could trust.
He stopped a few feet away and flexed his hands like he wanted to reach for me but wouldn’t allow himself. Something changed in his mismatched eyes, like a flip of a switch. He was retreating, hardening himself from me.
“What does it matter what I own?” His voice was tight, as angry as I was hurt.
Everything we’d shared…it was all based on a lie.
I shook my head, my chest heaving. I couldn’t breathe or think. I couldn’t be here pretending that we’d ever really had a chance. We came from two entirely different worlds. People like me didn’t belong with people like him.
“Everyone thinks I kidnapped you,” I told him. “That I manipulated you, like I would want you to burnyour empiredown.”
“If I may—” the woman tried to butt in.
Oscar furrowed his brows. “I told the police what happened. I told them you helped me.”
“At least they didn’t arrest me.” I laughed a humorless laugh. “It really felt like they wanted to, after you left our bubble.”
“I didn’t want to leave.”
I didn’t believe him. “You promised to wait. You didn’t.”
He clenched his jaw.
“You knew how I felt about money, and I trusted you,” I said. “You found your wallet, all that cash—you knew who you were, what kind of life you had.”
He didn’t protect me from the paparazzi. He held power over my dreams, knowing what it meant to me to earn my place at the theater, and he ripped it all away. He didn’t care about me, not really.
His gaze was heated yet icy cold. “You think I asked for this?”
“You pretended to be what you knew I wanted. You manipulated me. The stories, what you said about your family—was any of it real?”
“You got me,” he snapped. “I faked amnesia to hurt you.”
“You’re not who you said you were. Everything was a lie.” I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t be here anymore. “I can’t do this.”
“Morgan—”
Gutted and broken, I ran. Fear drove me. It was my damage, my past, the hurt I was feeling now—all of it rolled together into a crushing boulder that was too much to bear. I tried to convince myself that leaving was the right thing to do. I had no idea what was right anymore. What I did know was that I’d lost everything that mattered.
There was nothing left for me in Epiphany. My dreams had turned into a nightmare.
FORTY-ONE
OSCAR
My body turned to stone—heavy, sinking, cold. I was helpless to do anything but stare at the door. Seconds passed. Perhaps minutes or hours. Time lost all meaning, and the world melted away.
Morgan had abandoned me.
