"I'm not in trouble. I'm just... in a different world now." I feel the tears pricking at my eyes and blink them back. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more. I'm sorry I disappeared without saying goodbye. I'm sorry for all of it."
"Don't apologize." Her voice is fierce now, the Leslie I remember—stubborn, loyal, refusing to accept anything less than the truth. "Just promise me you're okay. Really okay, not just saying it to make me feel better."
"I'm okay. Really. I'm with someone who... who takes care of me. Who would do anything to protect me." The words feel strange on my tongue, but they're true. "I'm going to be fine."
"Someone?" A hint of her old teasing tone creeps in. "Is this a man? Are you telling me you disappeared for weeks and came back with a mysterious boyfriend?"
Despite everything, I laugh. "Something like that."
"Well." She sniffs, and I can tell she's crying. "He better be worth it. He better be worthy of you."
"I think he might be." I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "Take care of yourself, Les. Take care of David and the others. Tell them I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye properly."
"I will." A pause. "Bianca? If you ever need anything—anything at all—you know where to find me. Okay?"
"I know. Thank you."
I end the call before I can break down completely.
***
The medical school is a different conversation entirely.
I call the administration office, navigating through an automated menu until I reach a real person. I give my name, my student ID, explain that I'm inquiring about my enrollment status.
The woman on the other end is professionally sympathetic.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Benedetti, but according to our records, you were officially withdrawn three weeks ago. Family emergency, it says here. The paperwork was filed by your father, as your emergency contact."
My father. Of course.
"I didn't authorize that withdrawal," I say, my voice tight. "I didn't know anything about it."
"I understand this must be confusing. Unfortunately, the withdrawal has already been processed. Your spot in the program has been filled. If you'd like to reapply for next year's cohort—"
"Reapply." The word tastes like ash. "I was in my third year. At the top of my class. And you're telling me I have to start over?"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Benedetti. There are policies—"
I hang up before she can finish.
My father. Even now, even from wherever he's hiding, he's still controlling my life. Still erasing me, covering his tracks, making sure I can't go back to the world I came from.
The rage that fills me is cold and vast, an ocean of fury that I have no outlet for. I want to scream. Want to break something. Want to find Carmine Benedetti and make him pay for every single thing he's done to me.
Instead, I throw the phone across the greenhouse. It bounces off an overturned pot and skids across the floor, disappearing under a pile of debris.
Then I sit down among the ruins of my sanctuary and cry.
***
Misha finds me there an hour later.
I don't know how long I've been sitting in the dirt, surrounded by broken glass and dead plants, but the light has changed—softer now, the afternoon fading toward evening. My tears have dried, leaving my face tight and salty, my eyes swollen.
He doesn't say anything. Just steps through the debris, sits down on the floor beside me, and waits.
"My father withdrew me from medical school," I say finally. "Three weeks ago. Right after the auction, probably. My spot is gone. My entire academic career—gone."
