My Funeral, His Destruction Stage

lle

ready decided my fate. He knew what was coming. He probably orchestrated it. He wanted a divorce, and he wanted it clean, with me out of the picture.

for him. Not anymore. Not aft

n silence of the room. It was surprisingly steady, cold. "It concerns only C

rother, spat, his voice laced with venom. "A

flicker of something, perhaps regret, in her eyes. "Adelle, darling, don' t be like this. We only want what'

shed aside by my grandfather for a younger, more 'suitable' wife when her he

er continued, her voice pleading no

ted architect, abandoning his wife and legitimate daughter for his secret mistre

id! He loves Fernanda. Everyone knows it. Just let him go. It' s better for everyone. Especially for y

ll the confirmation I needed. A final, crushing betrayal

freezing heart. The air outside was colder than I remembered, a biting wind that mi

y asked, her small voice m

he years of meek compliance, of desperate longing for crumbs of affection, dissolved. I was done being the victim. Done being the

my pocket. A text m

of yourself. Come back

laugh escaped me. He still thought he could control

I typed, my fingers flying with a newfound speed, a delicious

neous. Don' t be ridiculous.

tional turmoil. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of color. A new kind of strength, cold and unyielding, was taking

. Just one floor below him. I would be a constant, chilling reminder of his discarded past, a ghost in

er. Carter stood in the hallwa