Relief slams into me so hard my knees nearly buckle. She’s alive. Safe.
I type back instantly, my fingers clumsy: ‘I’ll be there in the morning.I need to explain.’
My thumb hovers oversend. Then I stop.
Every instinct in my body screams at me to go, fix everything, claim what’s mine. But I read her message again. ‘I need time,’
She doesn’t want me there. And she is right.
With a raw sound that rips from my throat, I force my thumb to move…delete.
Each deleted letter feels like a surrender, but it’s the only promise I can keep for her right now.
I type two words:I understand.
And I do. Even if it hurts—like someone has their fist wrapped around my heart and is dragging it across broken glass, I will give her time. I will give her space. But I will not give her up.
She’s on the other side of the country. But at least we are on the same continent. Still within reach.
I go back inside, into the quiet of the apartment. I pour a drink, scotch neat. My hand shakes so hard the glass nearly slips. I down it in one swallow, the burn useless against the storm in my chest.
I call David. He picks up on the first ring.
“She’s safe,” I rasp. “San Diego. With Silvia.”
He exhales, relieved. “Good. That’s good.”
“Good?” My voice is razor-sharp. “She ran from me, David. Leah poisoned her again.”
Silence stretches, then David’s voice drops.
“Then make sure Leah can’t poison her ever again.”
“I will.” The words taste like iron. “Tomorrow. Maddox has the papers ready. Leah is out—of the company, of my life, of every damn corner of my world. I should have done it years ago, but I let her linger like a sickness. That mistake cost me Della.”
I hang up and fire off messages.
To Maddox:Tomorrow. 9 a.m. My office. Bring everything.
To Julian:Stop searching. I found her. Meeting at 9. Get Kingsley.
The letters blur on the screen, my chest tightening with the weight of it all. I set the phone down and press my palms to my eyes until stars burst behind them.
I should’ve told Della the truth the moment I saw her again. Should’ve laid it all out before Leah had the chance to twist it. Now she thinks I betrayed her. That I sold her love for money. And maybe she’s right. Maybe I did.
The thought guts me.
I step back onto the terrace, scotch burning a hole in my stomach. The city sprawls beneath me, glittering, indifferent. Above, the stars burn cold.
Tomorrow, Leah ends.
One way or another.
Chapter 21
ASHES AND SALT
Fire takes. Water forgives. Neither forgets.
