I know she doesn’t want Whitmore. I know she thinks letting me help her is just trading one set of shackles for another. But I have to prove that it isn’t true.
If she gives me a chance, I’ll give her everything.
I call my father at 6 a.m. He answers on the second ring, his voice sharp. "This better be important."
"I have something you need to see." My voice sounds rough, edged with determination. "Evidence of embezzlement. Thaddeus Whitmore has been stealing from Edgar Beauregard for years. It’s well hidden, but it’s all traceable, because I traced it.”
There's a pause, and I can hear him breathing on the other end of the line. I can picture him sitting in his office with that expression he gets when he's deciding whether someone is useful or disposable. "And you're calling me at six in the morning to tell me this because?"
"Because it changes things." I'm standing now, pacing the length of my apartment with the phone pressed to my ear, and I can feel my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "Edgar won’t let Savannah marry someone who’s been stealing from him. He’ll call off the engagement, and Thaddeus will go to prison. He’ll lose everything. And Savannah will be free."
"Free to do what, exactly?" His tone is cold. "Free to run into your arms? Free to throw away her family's expectations because you've decided you can't live without her?"
"Free to make her own choices." The words come out harder than I intend, and I force myself to take a breath, to find some semblance of the control I used to have. "Without being forced into a marriage she doesn't want."
"And what makes you think she doesn't want it?" He's enjoying this, I can hear it in his voice—the way he's poking at the wound, testing how deep it goes. "From what I understand, she went back to Charleston. She's planning a wedding. She told you to leave. Those don't sound like the actions of a woman who's desperate to be with you."
The words hit hard, and I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep myself steady. "She's scared. Her father threatened to cut off her funding, to destroy her future. She's doing what she thinks she has to do to survive."
"Or she's doing what she wants to do, and you're too obsessed to see it." There's no sympathy in his voice. "You've become a liability, Romeo. You're making decisions based on emotion instead of strategy, and that makes you useless to me."
"I'm not useless." But even as I say it, I can hear how hollow it sounds. "I'm giving you leverage over Whitmore… over Edgar, even. I'm giving you information that could?—"
"That could what? Force them to accept you as a son-in-law? Make them grateful that a Ciresa is fucking their daughter?" He laughs, and it's a harsh, ugly sound. "You think I'm going to use this information to help you keep your little obsession? You think I'm going to risk letting a dead feud with one of the most powerful families in the South reignite because my son can't control himself around some archaeology student?"
The contempt in his voice makes my vision blur at the edges. My hands shake with rage. "She's not just some?—"
"She's exactly that. She's a distraction. A weakness. And as far as I'm concerned, Edgar Beauregard getting what he deserves is none of my business." He pauses, and when he speaks again,his voice is quieter but no less cutting. "You will end this, Romeo. Prove to me that you're still capable of putting the family first. If you can't do that, then we're going to have a very different conversation about your future." He pauses. “Besides, even if you ruin Whitmore, they’ll just find some other country-club prick to marry her off to. That’s what she’s meant for. Remember what you’re meant for, son.”
The line goes dead, and I'm left standing in my apartment with the phone still pressed to my ear, listening to the silence and feeling something crack open inside my chest.
He's not going to help. He's not going to use the information I've spent weeks gathering. He's going to let Edgar destroy Savannah's future, let Thad trap her in a marriage she doesn't want, let everything I've been fighting for slip away because he thinks I'm compromised, thinks I'm weak, thinks I'm useless.
And maybe he's right. Maybe I am all of those things when it comes to what he wants for me. Maybe she has ruined me for this life, for everything I was raised to be.
But I'm also the only person who sees what's happening to her, the only person who understands that she's drowning and everyone around her is just watching her go under. And if my father won't help, if the evidence I've gathered is worthless, if every strategic move I make is just another way of proving how far I've fallen—then I'll find another way. I'll find something, anything, that will give me the leverage I need to keep her.
Because losing her isn't an option.
—
I goto campus on Monday morning because I don't know what else to do. The alternative is sitting in my apartment and slowly losing my mind, and some part of me still believes that if I canjust see her, just talk to her, I can make her understand that we're supposed to be together.
Dr. Kouris is lecturing on Mycenaean burial practices, and I take my usual seat near the back, scanning the room for the blonde hair and careful posture that I've memorized in excruciating detail.
She's not there.
I pull out my phone and check for messages, but there's nothing. No texts, no missed calls, no explanation for why she's not here. My mind immediately goes to the worst possibilities—that Thad found out about us and hurt her, that her father dragged her back to Charleston, that something happened and she's in trouble and I'm sitting here in a fucking seminar while she needs me.
Dr. Kouris is talking, but I can't focus on any of it. I'm watching the door, waiting for Savannah to walk in late with an apologetic smile and some reasonable explanation, but the minutes tick by and she doesn't appear. The girl who sits next to her keeps glancing at the empty seat with a worried expression, and I want to grab her and demand to know where Savannah is and whether she's okay.
When the class ends, I'm the first one out the door. I text Luca as I'm walking:I need you to check on Savannah. She missed class. Something's wrong.
His response comes quickly:You sure that's a good idea? Maybe she just needed a day off.
Romeo:She doesn't take days off. Check her apartment. Make sure she's okay.
Luca:Romeo?—
