Chapter 4

Colette's eyes instantly welled with tears.

"Talia, how could you?"

Rhett rushed to protect the woman he cherished, and his son pointed at me and started yelling.

"You're a bad lady! Don't you dare pick on my mom!

"This house belongs to my dad. You're just the housekeeper. Why should my mom have to pay you?"

Rhett held the boy with one arm, eyeing me warily.

"Talia, you can be as mad as you want, but leave the kid out of it."

I smiled and crouched down.

"Because I'm the owner of this home, and your mother isn't.

"And you're just his illegitimate kid. A bastard."

The next second, a slap landed on my face.

Smack!

Rhett had slapped me.

In seven years, it was the first time he'd ever hit me, and it was so hard my head spun.

"Talia! In front of a child? That's way over the line!"

He sneered and shook out his hand.

For a moment, I couldn't hear anything. All I could feel was the burning sting on my cheek.

"Take the money and go."

I looked at the endless string of zeros on the transfer notification and suddenly laughed.

Money used to be the thing that held us back the most. Now it had become the tool he used to get rid of me.

"Go."

He was getting impatient, urging me again and again.

I went into the bedroom and packed my things quickly.

I even took the stack of wedding invitations I'd handwritten myself.

When I stood at the door, Rhett didn't so much as glance at me.

In the back seat of the cab, I pulled out the invitations and tore them to shreds while the driver stared at me in shock.

"Could you get rid of these for me? Here's an extra seventy bucks for your trouble."

I smiled, swallowing the sob rising in my throat.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Rhett.

He'd sent me a location pin for a run-down old walk-up across town.

"This is where we'll live after the wedding.

"Colette's rent comes out of the money I gave you. Don't go making trouble for them again."

The luxury apartment for Colette, the crumbling walk-up for me.

I replied calmly, "I'll go see the place."

Soon after, I got in touch with a realtor in that old neighborhood.

"Hi, I need to sell a unit fast. List it fifteen thousand under market. The sooner the better."

The realtor agreed right away. "I'll set up showings right now."

The next day, I was still resting at the hotel when I got an urgent call from the studio.

On the other end, my assistant, Jenna, was crying helplessly.

"Talia, what do we do? Mr. Calder's selling off the studio!"

"What?"

"It's true! He says it's punishment for you bullying a child!

"Talia, we've worked on this for over a year. Is it all just going down the drain?"

Only then did I notice that Rhett had called me more than a dozen times and sent me over a hundred messages.

Yesterday, Colette's son had eaten the honey-glazed ribs, come down with a bad case of diarrhea, and ended up in the hospital.

Rhett was convinced I'd done something to the food to get back at the two of them.

I called him back.

On the other end of the line, Rhett was seething.

"It was you, wasn't it? Didn't I warn you not to touch the kid?

"Talia, didn't that slap teach you anything?

"If you still want the wedding and your studio, you'd better get to the hospital today and apologize to both of them."

I said calmly, "Don't worry. The invitations have already gone out. And I'm keeping the studio."

Then I blocked him.

He'd played me with his montage lies, so I'd be more than happy to return the favor.

I took a cab to the studio, called in ten workers, and had them smash the place to pieces.

It was Rhett's investment anyway. I had no reason to treasure it.

I'd already booked my flight. I was leaving this city for good.

Jenna looked completely lost. "Talia, are you sure you can let it go?"

I looked at the wreckage in front of me without a flicker of emotion.

"I can walk away from a man I loved for seven years. What's one studio?

"The world's a big place. I can open a shop anywhere."

That night, I boarded a plane out of New York.

The moment I stepped out of the airport in Charleston, my phone froze from the flood of messages.