The entire space feels cold and empty. Just like the beautiful beige couch, which matches the chaise lounge and the four-seater dinette set next to the windows. All too much for just me.
It would have been perfect for the two of us, though.
The bellhop placed the cases on a bench just past the foyer. Kirill’s parting gift.
Straightening my spine, I stride over and open the first one.
Inside, I discover a brand-new, top-of-the-line laptop, along with a microphone, interface, headphones, and soundproofing. Equipment I’ve only ever seen in review videos, priced far, far out of reach.
The professional podcast setup is so new, the metal glows.
Which means…
He planned this. He probably made this reservation for me days ago.
The betrayal stabs like a blade between my ribs. I grip the handle of the case so tightly, my fingers throb.
He knew he was going to leave me here. He set me up. After all we did yesterday, after everything that happened last night, he knew that he would walk away.
From the very beginning, he never gave me a choice.
I blink away tears. Even if he’s not here to witness it, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of crying.
I glance back down at the suitcase. Tucked in one box sits a single card with four words scrawled in black.
Don’t waste your assets.
Instead of a love note or an apology, he left a reminder that he listened to every word I said about failure and doubt and weaponized it.
Stop minimizing yourself. Go take the world apart.
It’s the most Kirill thing imaginable. Cold and incisive, and possibly exactly what I need in this moment.
This gift speaks of the inseparability of kindness and cruelty.
The truth hurts more than if he’d left me empty-handed.
I stare at the penthouse, at the equipment worth more than I cobbled together last year.
My wet gown clings to my skin as I sink to the floor and clutch the card to my chest. The edges bite into my palm.
I find myself alone, but also, unmistakably seen.
That’s his real parting gift. The unwelcome knowledge that someone stripped away every excuse I ever built and witnessed the raw truth of who I am underneath.
And then walked out.
Chapter 35
Kirill
The gates of Roman’s compound swing wide open, welcoming me back into the fold.
Once I pass through the threshold, they rumble closed behind me with a resounding clang.
I grip the steering wheel harder than necessary, my knuckles white against the black leather. The car echoes with the rattle of the iron barrier.
The house rises from the landscaped grounds like a fortress disguised as a home. Three stories of gray stone and white accents, all sharp angles and calculated intimidation.
