Chapter 5: The Morning After

Morning light crept through the curtains like an intruder, soft and indifferent, as if nothing monumental had happened the night before.

I lay still on Naomi’s couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the slow rhythm of my own breathing.

For a brief, fragile second, I forgot.

Then memory crashed back in.

The ballroom.

The papers.

Cassian’s voice cool, final.

I closed my eyes.

Naomi stirred from the armchair. “You’re awake.”

“So are regrets,” I murmured.

She gave a tired half-smile and stood, stretching. “I’ll make coffee. Strong. No questions asked.”

I sat up slowly, the dull ache in my abdomen still present but quieter now, like it had retreated just enough to be ignored.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine whirred. The normalcy of the sound felt wrong.

My phone buzzed on the table.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

Unknown number.

I stared at the screen, my pulse quickening.

Naomi followed my gaze. “Are you going to answer?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to hear his voice.”

The buzzing stopped.

A message appeared instead.

Cassian: We need to talk.

Three words.

No apology.

No explanation.

Just control.

I turned the phone face down.

Naomi set a mug in front of me. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“I know,” I said. And for the first time, I truly meant it.

Another message buzzed through.

Cassian: This situation doesn’t need to escalate.

Escalate.

As if my life were a hostile negotiation.

My chest tightened, anger finally bleeding through the shock.

“He divorced me like a business transaction,” I said quietly. “And now he wants to manage the fallout.”

Naomi leaned against the counter. “Then don’t let him.”

I wrapped my hands around the mug, grounding myself in the warmth.

“I’m not going back,” I said. “Not to the house. Not to him.”

Naomi nodded. “Good.”

A knock came at the door.

Both of us froze.

Naomi frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

My stomach twisted.

“I’ll get it,” she said, already moving.

I followed anyway, every nerve on edge.

Naomi opened the door and stiffened.

Margot Blackridge stood in the hallway, impeccably dressed in cream and pearls, eyes sharp and assessing. She looked as though she’d stepped straight out of a society column.

“Avelyn,” she said coolly, her gaze sliding past Naomi to land on me. “We need to talk.”

Naomi’s spine straightened. “This isn’t a good time.”

“I disagree,” Margot replied. “Family matters rarely wait for comfort.”

Family.

The word tasted bitter.

I stepped forward. “What do you want, Mrs. Blackridge?”

Margot’s lips thinned. “You left last night without explanation. The media is already asking questions.”

Of course they were.

“You embarrassed my son,” she continued. “And by extension, this family.”

I laughed softly. I couldn’t help it.

“Your son divorced me on our wedding night,” I said. “If there’s embarrassment, it isn’t mine.”

Margot’s eyes flashed. “That was a private arrangement.”

“So was my humiliation,” I shot back.

A pause.

Then Margot sighed, as if indulging a difficult child. “You will return to the house today. Appearances must be maintained.”

I felt something settle inside me solid, immovable.

“No,” I said.

Margot blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” My voice didn’t shake this time. “I’m not returning. Not now. Not ever.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You would be wise not to act impulsively. Cassian can be… generous. If you cooperate.”

Naomi stepped closer to me. “You should leave.”

Margot looked at her dismissively, then back at me. “Think carefully, Avelyn. Walking away without support is dangerous.”

I met her gaze steadily. “Staying was worse.”

For a long moment, Margot studied me, as if seeing me for the first time.

Then she turned abruptly. “Very well. You’ve made your choice.”

She left without another word.

The door closed.

My legs felt weak.

Naomi exhaled. “Well. That was horrifying.”

I sank onto the couch, my heart pounding.

“She thinks she can still control this,” I said. “Control me.”

Naomi sat beside me. “She’s about to find out she can’t.”

I nodded slowly.

Somewhere across the city, Cassian Blackridge believed this divorce was a clean break.

He was wrong.

Because this morning, for the first time since the papers were signed, I wasn’t just surviving.

I was choosing.

And that choice small and quiet as it was would change everything.