“I guess I should start from the day we met,” I began, staring into my glass. The images came flooding back, sharp and vivid. “Sebastian and I first crossed paths at a charity gala my parents insisted I attend. It was a big deal for my father’s business, and my mother made it clear that I needed to make the right impression.”
In my mind, I was back in the grand ballroom of the Sterling estate. The marble floors gleamed under the warm glow of chandeliers, and guests moved gracefully, their conversations a soft murmur in the sophisticated air. It was a world of tailored suits and exquisite gowns, and I’d felt out of place amid the elegance and expectations.
“My mother has always been obsessed with appearances,” I continued, the image of her clear in my mind. Victoria Carlisle—tall and impeccably elegant, with her perfectly styled blond hair, and piercing gray eyes—always carried herself with a refined grace. She had a knack for reading people and situations, always aiming to maintain the perfect image for our family.
“That night, she was focused on Sebastian Sterling,” I added, remembering her calculating smile. “To her, he wasn’t just a great match for me, he was also a valuable connection for my father’s business. She saw him as the perfect addition to our family’s carefully curated image.”
I took a deep breath, recalling how Sebastian had approached me that night. He towered over me, a tall and commanding presence that made my heart race. His honey-blonde hair was perfectly styled, highlighting his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, and his green eyes were piercing, locking onto mine with a gaze that felt almost hypnotic, as if he could see straight through me. The tailored black suit he wore fit him impeccably, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean, muscular frame. And he smelledintoxicatinglygood—a mix of musky cologne and woodsy undertones.
He was two years older, a fact I was keenly aware of, which only added to my nervousness in his presence. There was something about him that made me want to impress him, to be the perfect, poised young woman my mother had tried to mold me into. For the first time, I regretted not paying more attention in the etiquette classes she sent me to. There was an undeniable magnetism to him, something that pulled me in despite my initial desire to resist. Looking back, it was almost surreal how perfect he had seemed that night—like he was too good to be true. And now, I realize he was.
“Sebastian suggested we escape the crowd,” I continued, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “He led me to the gallery wing, away from the noise and chaos. The moment felt intimate, like we were stepping into a world of our own. We talked about art, cooking, and life. It was refreshing. Sebastian made me laugh, and he had this way of making me feelseen, as if he appreciated me for who I was, not just for my last name, or the way I looked.
“He listened to me talk about my passion for painting, and my dreams of becoming an artist. For the first time, I felt like someone understood and supported that part of me. He didn’t dismiss it as a frivolous hobby. Instead, he seemed to admire my dedication. It made me believe he could be someone who would stand by me, even against my parent’s expectations.”
I sighed, taking a sip of wine. “But now, looking back, I realize it was all part of his act. His interest in my art, in my dreams—it was just a way to draw me in, to make me feel special. It felt so real then but, as our relationship progressed, it became clear that it was all surface-level. He just knew how to say the right things to keep me hooked, to make me feel like I mattered to him. I thought he sawme, but he was only ever interested in what I couldoffer—my family’s connections, the way I looked on his arm, and the way I made him feel important. I was just another piece in his carefully constructed life, and I didn’t see it until it was too late.”
Ivy poured more wine into my now-empty glass and I took a sip, the warmth settling in my chest. As Ivy lit a few more candles and placed them around the room, the atmosphere became intimate and almost sacred, and a faint scent of herbs and incense filled the air.
“I was so caught up in the excitement,” I admitted, my voice tinged with regret. “Sebastian had this way of making me feel like I had to constantly earn his attention. He’d make me feel like the most special person in the world one moment, and then he’d flirt with other women right in front of me, keeping me on edge. It created this constant push-and-pull, where I felt like I had to prove myself to him, like I wasn’t quite good enough without his approval.”
Ivy’s face scrunched in annoyance. “What a dick,” she muttered, shaking her head. She quickly apologized, her expression softening with empathy. “Sorry, Vinnie. It’s just . . . I can’t believe he made you feel like that.”
I smiled faintly, appreciating her support. “Yeah, it wasn’t great. But at the time, I was too caught up to clearly see it.
“Please, continue,” Ivy urged, her tone gentle. “I want to hear it all.”
Encouraged by her understanding, I continued. “He’d say things like, ‘You’re lucky I understand you,’ or, ‘Not everyone could handle your quirks.’ It was subtle, but it made me feel like I should be grateful he was willing to put up with me.”
“That’s so messed up,” Ivy said, her voice tinged with frustration. “What an ass! He totally gaslighted you into thinking you were lucky to have him, instead of him being lucky to haveyou!”
I nodded, feeling the weight of her words, and the truth they held. “It was like he had this hold on me, making me feel constantly insecure and unsure of myself. He made me believe I needed to be perfect to keep him interested. And I was so wrapped up in the fantasy of our relationship—the idea that someone like him could love someone like me—that I ignored all the warning signs. I didn’t want to face the truth that the person I thought loved me was just using me to boost his ego.”
Ivy shook her head. “It makes me so angry to hear that he treated you like that. You deserved so much better, Vinnie. It’s hard to see it when you’re in the middle of it, but I’m glad you’re realizing it now.”
I took a deep breath, letting her words sink in. The realization was painful, but also liberating. For the first time, I felt like I could let go of the guilt and confusion that had plagued me for so long.
Ivy reached over to the coffee table, grabbing the pen and a piece of paper she’d laid out earlier, and handed them to me. “Okay, Vinnie, now’s your chance,” she said softly. “Write down what you need to let go of. Be honest with yourself.”
I started to write, the words flowing out in a steady stream:I want to resolve my feelings about Sebastian soI can finally move on.
Ivy watched me closely, sensing the significance of the moment. “You ready?”
Lightness floated over me when I burned the paper. The simple act, combined with Ivy’s support, feeling cathartic. Though it was symbolic, the gesture carried real emotional weight and, as the last wisps of smoke faded, I silently hoped that this would help me to finally move on.
Chapter 13
THE REST OF THE NIGHT flowed effortlessly. Ivy and I watched classic horror movies, each scene punctuated by her playful commentary. Her jokes about the cheesy special effects, and her dramatic reenactments of the most ridiculous moments, had me in stitches. She’d grab a pillow and mimic the over-the-top screams or pretend to wield an imaginary weapon with exaggerated bravado, making the entire experience feel like we were kids at a sleepover again.
When credits rolled on yet another slasher film, Ivy leaned back with a satisfied sigh, popping a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You know, I can never get enough of these,” she said, grinning. “No matter how bad they are, there’s something comforting about them.”
I laughed, the sound light and free. “I don’t think I’ve laughedthis much in ages.”
“Well, I aim to please.” Ivy grinned. “My love for horror movies comes from my parents, you know. They got me into them when I was way too young, but I loved spending time with them.”
I laughed, imagining a young Ivy. “Where are your parents now?”
“They’re philosophers,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Currently, they’re on an epic trip around Asia, delving into various spiritual and philosophical traditions. Traveling has always been a regular occurrence for them. When I was younger, I used to stay with my grandma when they were away.”
