Chapter 4

I was in the laundry room that afternoon, ironing one of Henry's shirts.

It was a pale blue button-down, the kind he wore when Madeline took him out to some "important" family dinner, pretending like I didn't exist.

The iron hissed against the cotton, smooth and rhythmic.

That sound had become the closest thing to peace I had in this house.

Until the door slammed open.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Henry's voice came sharp and loud, his sneakers stomping all over my quiet.

I didn't turn. "Ironing your shirt."

"That one?" he asked, stepping closer. "That's my favorite! Madeline got it for me."

I nodded, pressing the last corner. "Yeah, I figured. You left it crumpled on the floor."

He huffed. "Well, don't screw it up."

I was about to answer when he suddenly reached for the board, trying to grab the shirt while I was still ironing.

The iron slipped. My hand twitched. Before I could stop it, the edge of the iron caught the fabric, and in a blink, a dark, ugly burn bloomed across the chest of the shirt.

Crisp cotton turned black.

I froze.

Henry screamed, "What the heck?! So now you're taking it out on me? You're jealous, aren't you? You're mad 'cause Dad and I only care about Madeline!"

I turned away, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest.

But Henry didn’t stop.

"Well, you need to get over it! If you were nicer to me, maybe Dad would still let you stay in the house. But now..." He smirked. "Now I'm not so sure."

I let out a dry chuckle.

"You really do know how to talk like your dad."

I took a breath, set the iron upright, then calmly lifted the ruined shirt off the board.

"It's ruined," I said simply.

I walked past him, over to the trash, and dropped the shirt in..

Henry shrieked. "Are you insane?! That was from Madeline! That's the nicest thing anyone's ever given me!"

I turned to him, keeping my voice level. "It was just a shirt, Henry."

He lost it. His face turned red, fists clenched at his sides. "You did that on purpose! You're just jealous of Madeline! You always ruin everything!"

Before I could even react, he shoved me.

I stumbled backward hard; my back smacked into the hallway wall with a loud thud.

Pain exploded through my shoulder.

As I lost my balance, I felt the floor disappear from under my feet.

And I tumbled halfway down before a pair of arms caught me. Strong, steady.

Finn.

He'd come through the front door just in time to see me fall.

He grabbed me before I hit the last step, pulling me into his chest.

I was shaking, not from the fall, but from the heat of everything.

But before I could say a word, Finn's face twisted into anger, not at Henry.

At me.

He snapped. "What were you thinking, Jillian?"

"You nearly scared Henry to death!"

Henry came running down the steps behind us.

Crocodile tears already in place. "Dad, she was being crazy! She ruined my shirt on purpose, Madeline gave me that. And then she screamed at me and ran down the stairs! I tried to stop her!"

I turned to Finn, my voice trembling but cold. "He pushed me."

Finn didn't even flinch. "You must've said something to provoke him."

I laughed, dry and broken. "Of course. Because it's always my fault, isn't it?"

I smiled through the tears that wouldn't stop falling. My voice was soft.

"You know what? I'm done." I paused, breathing shakily. "You three want to be a happy little family? Go ahead. I won't stand in your way anymore."

I pulled away from his arms and stepped back, putting distance between us.

Finn frowned, taking a step forward, but I kept going.

"I'm just the outsider, right? Always have been. So I'll make it easier for everyone. I'll move out. I'm leaving."

His eyes widened. "You what?"

"You heard me." My voice didn't rise; it just trembled. "I give up. I surrender. I'm out of this... whatever this is. I won't come back. Ever. Is that what you wanted?"

Finn let out a careless laugh, like he didn't believe a word I said.

"Come on," he said, "Don't be ridiculous. Anyone on the street could tell you that Jillian, the mafia boss's wife, is hopelessly in love with me. You've heard of a princess leaving her prince in a fairy tale? No? Exactly."

"I'm not your princess, Finn."

My voice broke a little, but I held his gaze. "And you'll get to see with your own eyes, just how far I can walk away from you."

Then I turned and left.

For a second, Finn didn't move.

His fists clenched, as if trying to hold on to something already slipping through his fingers.