Chapter 6

"Just temporarily, Vivi."

I looked past him.

Chloe was still sitting on my couch, her injured ankle resting on a cushion. She had the same apologetic smile on her face, but there was something else in her eyes. Something far too close to satisfaction.

"Sorry, Vivian. It's just my ankle. I wouldn't ask if I had another choice."

I looked back at Nathaniel.

He was waiting for me to agree.

He'd already left me alone on the roadside. He'd spent the day with Chloe, missed our family dinner, and barely bothered to explain himself.

Now he wanted to give her our bedroom, too.

I felt something inside me go very still.

"You've already given up our bedroom for her," I said quietly. "Why stop there? Why don't you give me up to her, too?"

His face changed.

"Vivi, that's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about, Nathaniel?"

"I would never—"

He stopped, as though the right words had suddenly become impossible to find.

I waited.

For five years, I'd been the one to finish his sentences for him. I'd taken his careless remarks and turned them into something kinder. I'd accepted half-hearted apologies and convinced myself that he meant more than he said.

I had spent so long protecting him from the consequences of his own choices that he'd begun to believe I would always be there to do it.

I was done.

"Forget it," I said.

I went upstairs.

My bedroom looked exactly as I'd left it that morning. His watch lay on the dresser. My books were stacked beside the bed. Our wedding photograph stood on the nightstand, the two of us smiling at the camera as though we had all the time in the world to be happy.

I picked up the photograph.

For a second, I considered smashing it.

Instead, I turned it facedown.

Then I took my coat and the bag I'd packed two weeks ago, the night I'd first found the diary. I'd never fully unpacked it. Some part of me must have known that I would eventually need to leave.

I zipped the bag and carried it downstairs.

Nathaniel was waiting near the living room.

"Vivi, where are you going?"

"Out."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're exhausted. We can talk about this tomorrow."

I looked at him.

He still didn't understand.

Even now, after everything he'd done, he thought I was throwing a tantrum. He thought I'd cool off, come back upstairs, and let him explain why Chloe needed yet another thing that belonged to me.

"I don't want to talk tomorrow," I said. "I don't want to talk tonight, either."

"Vivian."

I walked past him.

Neither he nor Chloe tried to stop me.

The front door closed behind me with a soft click.

I stood on the porch for a moment, gripping the handle of my bag.

Somewhere inside that house, Nathaniel would probably return to the couch. Chloe would say something to make him laugh, and soon enough, the evening would continue as though I had never been there.

I had once believed that if I walked away, he would follow me.

I had imagined him catching my hand, apologizing, and finally admitting that he'd taken me for granted.

But he didn't come after me.

Not even when I reached the end of the driveway.

I let out a bitter laugh.

What a fool I'd been.

---

By the time I reached the main road, it was nearly midnight.

I hadn't decided where to go. I only knew I couldn't spend another night under the same roof as Nathaniel and Chloe.

The streets were quiet, and the shopfronts were dark. My phone battery was almost dead, and I didn't have the energy to search for a hotel or explain my situation to anyone.

I kept walking.

My feet hurt. My shoulders ached from carrying the bag, and the day's exhaustion seemed to settle into every muscle in my body.

I hadn't eaten since the hospital cafeteria at noon. Even then, I'd barely managed a few bites.

At first, I thought the dizziness was simply hunger.

I slowed down and leaned against a wall, waiting for the feeling to pass.

It didn't.

The discomfort only grew worse.

I needed to sit down.

The pavement was cold beneath my hands. I drew my knees toward my chest and rested my forehead against them, trying to steady my breathing.

I had endured so much that day.

The diary. The roadside. Grandma's sudden hospitalization. Nathaniel asking me to surrender my own bedroom to the woman he'd been secretly spoiling.

I'd swallowed every hurt because there had always been something more urgent to deal with.

I let the phone fall into my lap.

Headlights appeared at the end of the street.

A car approached slowly, its beams sweeping over the sidewalk before stopping beside me.

I tried to lift my head.

The driver's door opened.

Footsteps approached, measured and unhurried, until a shadow fell across the pavement in front of me.

"Hey."

A man's voice cut through the haze.

"Can you hear me?"

I blinked, struggling to focus.

He crouched in front of me, his expression changing the moment he saw my face.

"You shouldn't be out here alone."

Something about his voice stirred a distant memory.

The hospital.

A corridor. A brief encounter. A pair of eyes I'd noticed without understanding why.

I forced myself to look up.

His face slowly came into focus.

Mr. Gray. 

I frowned. Why did I keep running into him these past few days? It couldn't be just a coincidence, could it?

Before I could ask him what he was doing here, he studied my face as if he were confirming something he'd spent years searching for.

"How did you find me here?"

He didn't flinch. "I had him follow at a distance. When you didn't stop walking, I came myself."

That should have frightened me. A man I had met once, for thirty seconds, had followed me across the city in the dark.

"Why are you following me?" some part of me had already stopped trusting the things that should frighten me.

Then he spoke again.

"I've been looking for you for a long time."

He paused, his gaze fixed on mine.

"Vivian Mercer, You are the heir to the Mercer family."