My heart sinks as I look around.
The suitcase open on the luggage rack. The garment bags hanging in the closet. The designer shoes lined up at the foot of the bed like soldiers.
Everything is dirty here. Tainted with his intentions for me.
I move through the room mechanically. The dress I’m wearing right now: his. The one draped over the chair for the dinner tomorrow: his. The shoes: his. Even the makeup bag full of expensive products from the spa that I never would have bought for myself.
I don’t want any of it.
My hands shake as I find my carry-on bag. I dump the contents out onto the bed and sort through it.
Laptop: mine. Phone charger: mine. The novel I brought to read on the plane: mine. The silk blouse and tailored pants I wore on the flight here: mine. My comfortable flats, the ones I’ve had for two years: I bought these before he started his campaign of gifts and guilt.
That’s it. That’s all that’sreally mine.
I strip off the red dress, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. I pull on my blouse and pants, buttoning them with shaking fingers. Slip my feet into the flats. My own clothes feel like armor.
I zip up my carry-on and look around one more time at the disaster I’m leaving behind. The expensive dresses. The shoes. The jewelry is not here, probably still lying in the grass where I threw it Darius.
Let him deal with all of it. Let him see what I left behind and understand what it means.
I pick up the phone and dial.
“Concierge desk, how may I help you?”
“I need a taxi to the airport.” My voice sounds flat. Dead. “Violet Moonvale.”
“Of course, miss. Right away.”
I hang up. Clean up my face in the bathroom. Sling my carry-on over my shoulder and walk out.
I don’t look back. I let the door slam shut behind me.
The taxi is idling at the curb when I reach the lobby. I slide into the back seat and tell the driver to take me to the airport. On my phone, I book the first flight home. It leaves in an hour.
I see I have three missed calls from Darius. Two text messages. I delete them without reading them and turn off my phone.
When they call my section, I board the plane, find my seat by a window, buckle in, and gaze at the darkness outside.
The plane fills up around me. A businessman takes the aisle seat. The middle stays empty.
The engines roar to life. We taxi down the runway. And then, we’re airborne.
I press my forehead against the cool glass and watch Miami disappear below me, swallowed by clouds and night. Somewhere down there, maybe Darius is still at the gala. Or maybe he went back to our hotel. Maybe he has realized that I’ve left. Maybe he’s standing in that room surrounded by all the things he bought me, finally understanding what I meant.
Maybe he’s relieved.
I close my eyes and try not to think about the howl I heard in the garden.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.
Because I rejected him first, and that’s the one thing I’ll never take back.
Chapter Twenty
Darius
I sit on the edge of the hotel bed, my hands dangling between my knees, staring at the scattered remnants Violet left behind.
