His words, his grip, the way he's looming over me—it's all too much. Fear and anger war in my chest, and suddenly I'm frightened. I can’t flee… he’s got me literally backed into a corner, so all I can do is fight.
"I don't belong to anyone," I say, my voice shaking but firm. "I'm not your property, Thad. I'm a person. And you don't get to treat me like this."
"I'm treating you like my fiancée. Like someone who's supposed to be loyal to me. But clearly, that's too much to ask."
"Loyalty? You want to talk about loyalty? You've spent the entire evening networking, ignoring me, treating me like an accessory. You criticize what I wear, you dismiss my career, you make decisions without consulting me. And now you're angry because I danced with someone who actually sees me as a person?"
His jaw clenches so tightly that I see his lips turn white at the edges. "I see you as a person. I see you as my future wife. As the mother of my children. As?—"
"As what? As Edgar Beauregard's daughter? As a way to advance your career? Because that's all I've ever been to you, isn't it? A useful connection. A good match."
His hand moves from my arm to my throat—not squeezing, but the threat is there. The promise of what he could do if he wanted to.
"You're being hysterical."
"I'm being honest. For the first time in our entire relationship, I'm being honest." Tears are streaming down my face now, but I don't care. "I don't love you, Thad. I don't think I ever have. And I don't want to marry you."
His eyes go cold. "You don't mean that."
"I do. I absolutely do."
"You're upset. You're confused. That man has gotten into your head?—"
"No. He's made me see clearly for the first time. He's made me realize that I deserve better than this. Better than you."
Thad's hand tightens on my throat, just slightly. Just enough to make breathing difficult. Just enough to remind me that he's stronger, that he could hurt me if he wanted to.
"You're not breaking up with me," he says quietly. "Not here. Not like this. We're going to go back in there, we're going to smile and act like everything is fine. Then we're going to go home and discuss this like adults. We will talk about moving the marriage up, and you will do as you’re told if you want to continue going to school here?—"
"No."
"Savannah—"
"No. I'm done. I'm done pretending. I'm done being controlled. I'm done with all of it."
I push against his chest, and he stumbles back, surprised. I use the moment to slip past him and run down the hallway toward the exit.
I can hear him calling after me, but I don't stop. I burst through the doors into the cool night air, gasping, my heart racing, my whole body shaking.
I need to get away. I need space. I need?—
"Savannah."
I hear Romeo's voice. He must have followed me out—must have been waiting to make sure I was okay. I turn, and he's there, his face etched with concern and barely controlled rage.
"Did he hurt you?"
I can't speak. I can only shake my head, even though it's a lie. My arm aches where Thad grabbed me. My throat feels tender where his hand was a moment ago.
"Let me see."
He reaches for my arm gently, pushing up the sleeve of my dress. Even in the dim light from the building, we can both see the marks forming. Finger-shaped bruises, dark against my pale skin.
Romeo's jaw clenches. "I'm going to kill him."
"No. Please. I just—I need to get out of here. I need?—"
I don't know what I need. I just know I can't go back in there. I can't face Thad again. I can't face the stares and whispers and judgment after the very public confrontation that just happened.
