Chapter 4

I took a cab back to my apartment alone.

I slumped against the seat, closed my eyes, and forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. Over time, the suffocating ache in my chest and the relentless ringing in my ears finally started to recede.

When the cab pulled up to the curb, the driver lifted my suitcase out and offered to take it to the elevator.

I shook my head.

Cradling my broken laptop in my left arm and dragging my suitcase with my right hand, I made my way inside.

The first thing I did was go to the study and check the drawer for my backup drive. It was still there, tucked away in the back. I let out a quiet breath of relief, then went to the bedside table for my medication.

Just as I lifted the bottle, I heard the front door unlock.

Raymond stood at the entrance, wearing a grim expression. "So you actually came home."

I ignored him, slipping the backup drive into my suitcase's inner compartment.

"Get out."

He didn't budge. His eyes landed on the pill bottle in my hand, and he crossed the room to snatch it from me.

"Grace, are you done with this yet? I promised I'd replace your laptop and make Maddie apologize. How much longer are you going to shut us out like this?"

I reached for the bottle. "Give it back."

He raised it above my head and shot back, "Maddie is down there crying her eyes out, and you couldn't care less. When did you become this heartless?"

"Since the day you started treating my life like a game to bet on," I said coldly.

He hissed, "Don't twist this into something it's not. It's just a competition, a broken laptop, and a canceled trip. Are you really going to let that erase everything we have?"

I looked at him and said flatly, "Raymond, let's break up."

He paused, then let out a laugh that was more shock than humor. "Break up? You're threatening me with that?"

"I'm not threatening you."

I was too worn out to argue. I seized my suitcase and reached for the medication, but Raymond sidestepped me and took it before I could.

"Fine. If you need time to cool down, I'll give it to you."

He backed away, heading for the door.

A sudden panic seized me.

"Raymond. What are you doing?"

He swung the security door shut with a click, and I heard the deadbolt slide into place. I rushed forward and twisted the handle, but it didn't budge.

Raymond's voice came through the door. "Maddie and I are making one last bet. Stay in there for four hours, and maybe you'll realize how unreasonable you've been today."

I slammed my fist against the door. "Open the door."

"I'm taking your medication with me," he said coldly. "Otherwise, you'll just use your condition to manipulate me again. When you're ready to talk like an adult, give me a call."

His footsteps faded into the distance, and a moment later, the elevator doors closed with a soft chime.

Silence settled over the entire apartment.

I stood in the entryway, bracing myself against the door with one hand. My breathing suddenly became shallow.

I couldn't stop thinking about the cramped entryway, the door that wouldn't open, and the medicine I couldn't get to.

Those three things layered over each other until it felt like a vise had closed around my ribs, squeezing tighter and tighter until I couldn't breathe.

I scoured every drawer I could reach, but my emergency supply was nowhere to be found.

Everything inside my backpack had been thrown into chaos when it hit the floor at the airport, and my phone had slipped through a rip in the lining.

My hands trembled as I pulled it out. I tried the fingerprint reader again and again, but it failed to unlock every time.

A notification from Madelyn lit up the screen.

"Grace, calm down. Raymond's only doing this because he cares about you."

I stared at it and felt a strange emptiness. They actually believed that locking me in my own home was an act of care.

My pulse raced, and the edges of my vision started to blur.

Just before I lost consciousness, I stumbled into the entryway shelf. A heavy brass ornament fell, and I grabbed it. With what little strength I had left, I hurled it at the floor-to-ceiling window.

The glass exploded with a deafening crash. Shards scattered across the room, and several of them cut deep into my forearm. Blood began to pour from the wounds.

My phone screen lit up again with a message from Raymond. The lock screen preview read, "It's only four hours. Stop playing the victim."