The room goes wrong immediately. Too big. Too hollow.
I swallow, my voice dropping despite myself. “Do we dissolve the contract?”
He looks away. Jaw flexing.
The pause is agony.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” he says finally. “Have Evelyn talk to my team.”
Something inside me cracks clean through.
And still—he doesn’t stop.
He turns and walks out before I can say anything else.
The door closes.
The penthouse goes quiet.
And so does my heart— because it finally believes what it’s been afraid of all along.
He was never going to choose me.
Chapter twenty-eight
Cam
The penthouse is quiet in a way that feels like an accusation.
I slip inside and shut the door without letting it click. My shoulders stay tight, like sound is dangerous. Like if I make too much of it, she’ll appear.
I don’t want another fight.
I don’t want a goodbye.
I don’t want to see her cry, because that would undo every decision I just made.
The lights are dim. Not off. Just low. The city glow leaks through the windows and paints everything in soft gray.
A mug sits on the counter.
Cold tea. A faint ring on the stone.
Evidence she was here.
Just enough to twist the knife deeper.
I keep my steps quiet as I cross the living room. My eyes flick to the couch out of habit.
Empty.
Good.
I head down the hall to the guest room—the one that was supposed to be temporary. The one I never let myself get comfortable in.
I pull the duffel from the closet and set it on the bed.
Then I start packing like a machine.
