Chapter 5 There's No Turning Back

Abby's POV

I shrugged, trying for a nonchalance I didn't feel. "Let's just say I'm your stalker and I happen to know everything." I even managed a wink, praying he couldn't see the dizzying effect he was having on me.

His lips, which were unfairly sexy, curved into a slow, knowing smile. "I'll come and find you tomorrow, Ms. Sinclair. Have a good night."

He leaned in, and I froze, my heart hammering. He didn't kiss my lips, but my cheek, his own surprisingly warm against my cold skin. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "Just so you know... you'll have to get used to my kisses when we get married."

His tone was laced with sarcasm, but it still sent a shiver straight down my spine. A joke... but jokes like that always mean something.

I took an involuntary step back, my fingers flying to the spot on my cheek he'd touched. I just watched him go, his long, confident strides eating up the pavement until he disappeared into his car.

The second he was gone, the panic hit me. Abby! What have you just done?! Are you really marrying Matteo Romano?! My mind was screaming.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, the cold night air stinging my lungs. "Yes," I whispered to myself, the word a vow. "I am marrying him. There's no turning back."

Steeling myself, I turned and went back inside. I walked up the grand staircase, my new resolve feeling like a thin sheet of ice. As I reached the landing, I saw the head maid stepping out of my bedroom.

My eyes widened.

My things. My suitcases, my designer bags, my childhood memory box—all of it was piled in the hallway. It wasn't just a pile; it was an insult. They'd been tossed out. Treated like trash.

A cold fury, sharper than my earlier panic, swept through me.

"What is happening here?!" I snapped, my voice echoing in the suddenly silent hallway.

My father, George, appeared at the top of the stairs, my stepmother Josefina glued to his side. Her eyes darted from me to the pile of my belongings, a smug, satisfied smirk on her face.

"You're going to marry Nicholas anyway," she said with fake sweetness. "So what's the matter? You're leaving."

"I... just canceled the engagement a minute ago. There's no wedding. No marriage."

I turned my gaze to the head maid, who was wringing her hands nervously. "Divina," I said, my voice clear and firm, "Please put all of my things back in my room. Immediately."

"Yes, right away, Miss," Divina said, bowing her head in relief and signaling the other staff.

My father's face was turning a blotchy red. "When are you going to stop this childishness, Abby?!" he growled.

I was already in my doorway. I glanced back at him, my hand on the doorknob, and began to slowly push the door closed.

"When I'm finally married to Matteo Romano," I said, just loud enough for them to hear. "You know, the Anderson's enemy."

I shut the door, the solid click of the lock cutting off their stunned, spluttering faces. I didn't wait to hear their reply. I was done arguing with them for one night—for one lifetime.

Gosh, I'm so tired. The thought was a bone-deep ache. I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the door and let out a long, shaky sigh.

I spoke to the silence of my room, to the 25-year-old soul trapped inside this 20-year-old body.

"Now that you're back, Abby," I whispered, "you're going to rewrite your story."

***

The next morning, I woke up not to an alarm, but to the bright, clear sun.

A slow smile spread across my lips before I was even fully awake. I stretched, my arms reaching for the ceiling, my back and shoulders letting out a series of satisfying pops.

Good, I thought, a giddy, powerful rush surging through me. I'm alive.

I took a deep, cleansing breath, pulling open the grand windows and stepping onto the balcony. The morning air was crisp. Down in the garden, Mr. Sullivan was already directing the staff. He was the Hayes family butler—my mother's family butler. His loyalty had always been to her memory, which meant, by extension, he was the only person in this entire estate who truly, unequivocally, listened to me.

I smiled and waved. He paused, his formal expression softening, and gave me a discreet, supportive wave back.

An ally.

I turned to go back inside when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. My heart gave a little jump when I saw the name. Lia. My best friend.

I snatched it up. "Lia?"

"YOU GLORIOUS, CRAZY BITCH, YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!" she shrieked, and I had to pull the phone an inch from my ear. "He's already making his move! It's everywhere!"

A real, genuine laugh bubbled up from my chest. This was Lia. She had been campaigning for me to break up with Nicholas for years. Of course, she was ecstatic.

"And?" I asked, yawning softly as I settled onto the edge of my bed, still smiling.

"And?! Abby, he's feeding his side of the story to every media company that will listen! The front pages, the gossip sites—it's all about you!"

I leaned back, glancing at my reflection in the vanity mirror. "Well, I know. That was kind of the point."

There was a beat of silence on her end, and then her voice dropped from excited to practical. "Okay, but what about your reputation? You know he's painting you as the villain, right?"