What did that say about me?
I yanked the ring off my finger and hurled it across the bathroom. The small black box clattered against the sink as I watched the ring sail through the air, feeling a momentary sense of satisfaction. But when it landed, it didn’t bounce away like I expected. Instead, it settled on the polished marble floor with a solid thud.
Like it belonged here.
A wave of nausea rolled through me as I stared at it, that unyielding piece of metal gleaming defiantly in the dim light. My heart raced, each beat echoing louder than the last as I knelt down to pick it up, my fingers brushing against its cool surface.
“What have I done?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself, my voice barely a whisper against the silence.
I was no longer just Kennedy Hathaway; I was someone who had crossed lines and broken rules in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I murmured to my reflection, watching as my lips formed the words. The girl staring back looked lost—eyes wide and questioning, searching for answers in a life that felt like quicksand beneath her feet. Every decision leading up to this moment spiraled through my mind like an endless reel of film—each choice a frame filled with uncertainty and regret.
What did freedom even mean if I couldn’t recognize myself? Was this what I really wanted, or was this just another cage?
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to stave off the pounding headache that threatened to engulf me. All those moments of rebellion—the whiskey at the bar, flirting with danger—had only led me deeper into chaos.
And it was my fault.
I made those choices because they felt good, because I thought I was getting back at Gary.
Now, I realized how childish I truly was.
My phone buzzed again on the counter, but this time I ignored it. It didn’t matter who was trying to reach me or what they wanted. All that mattered was this moment—the realization that I stood on a precipice between who I'd been and who I'd become.
And right now? I had no idea which side would win out in the end.
Chapter 8
Nick
I stepped into the penthouse.
The door clicked shut behind me like a trigger being pulled.
Silence. Thick. Heavy.
Like the space was holding its breath.
Adrenaline still burned under my skin—raw, sharp, and laced with her.
Her voice. Her defiance. The way she looked at me like I was sin wrapped in safety.
Delgado watching. And she still chose me.
Yeah. That did something to me.
I scanned the room.
Her phone was on the couch, screen lighting up with missed calls and panicked texts like it was begging someone to save her.
Too late.
Her shoes—tossed like an afterthought—lay by the door.
She’d come in fast. Fumbled out of them like her head was spinning. And I’d left her on the couch. Needed to keep my decision until she chose me completely.
I moved through the place slow, controlled, blood still pounding in my ears.
