The sad part is, if he’d installed it himself, I might even look past the invasion of my privacy; he’s stalked me enough ways before. But to know someone else put it there. To know and never say anything…?
His hand reaches toward me, and I slap it away, the sharp crack echoing in the empty classroom.
“No.” My voice breaks. “You knew someone could be watching me, exploiting me, and you decided spying on me yourself was more important than my safety?”
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” Tears sting behind my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. “Youknew, and you kept it to yourself because it benefitted you. Because you could use it. Just like you use everything.”
My hands move to my face, fingers closing around my glass frames. The lenses that bought my world into focus, made navigation easy. His twisted gift, the symbol of everything he holds over me.
They clatter onto the floor tiles. I lift my heel and bring it down. Once. Twice. The plastic frames splinter. The lenses fracture into a web, then shatter.
I grind them beneath my heel until they’re nothing but broken pieces, beyond repair. Sunlight stabs my unprotected eyes, making them water. Damien blurs, doubles, triples before me.
“We’re done.” I stamp my heel one last time as punctuation. My fingers find the doorhandle. “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.”
“We have an arrangement.” His voice strains, control slipping for the first time. “You agreed.”
“Before I understood you’d been complicit in my surveillance.” My eyes close, hiding from him in the dark. “Before I found out you chose watching me over protecting me. So fuck your agreement and fuck you.”
“Ophelia—”
“I mean it, Damien.” I raise my chin, opening my eyes. Whatever he sees there makes him step back. “If you come nearme again, I’ll tell the school and police everything. The threats, the coercion. Go ahead and do your worst. I don’t care who knows about the pills. I’ll flood the socials until your name is everywhere. I’ll burn your whole world down, and I don’t care if mine burns along with it.”
His hand twitches toward me, then falls limp. “You’re making a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was believing you cared.” The words taste as bitter as they sound. “I won’t make it again.”
I walk out of the room, leaving him standing among the shattered remains of his gift.
My vision blurs worse than ever; the world reduced to vague shapes and indistinct colours. I unfold my cane with a snap.
Behind me, he calls my name one more time. I keep walking, out of the corridor, out of the school where classes are starting and life continues as if nothing’s changed.
I need to pack up my things and get out of the house before Bryan returns. Get somewhere safe.
Tomorrow I can sort through the wreckage.
CHAPTER THIRTY
DAMIEN
There’sa yellow hatchback parked outside when I arrive home from school. Gregorie, Dad’s private secretary, waves from the driver’s seat, and I tug my polo neck higher.
I park in the garage and taking a few extra moments to compose myself before I walk through the house and answer the door.
“Hey.” I frown. “Did you need something for Dad?”
Gregorie pushes in a step, angling his head as he peers along the main hallway. “Is Alexander here?”
“I don’t know. I just got home.” I glance over my shoulder like he could be standing in the lobby, then face him again. “Why would he be here? He told me he was going to Vietnam.”
“His pilot called me. He never turned up for the flight.”
I shrug, stepping aside so he can enter. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, making Gregorie seem too close, every detail of his face in high definition.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I say, walking through to the kitchen and tossing my keys into the bowl. “He’s been getting chummy with Vincent Impaglia. Have you asked him?”
