LOGINHi guys....I’ve been seeing the comments wondering if the story has ended, and I just had to come in here and say, absolutely not. Not even close.We are far from done with this story, I promise you that.I just took a tiny breather to reset, clear my head, and come back stronger because you guys chapters that hit, not rushed ones that don’t do the story justice.I owe you nothing but my best work.I’ll be back very soon, and we’re going right back into consistent updates. No disappearing acts, no leaving you hanging like that again.Thank you for your patience, your loyalty, and your engagement. I'll see you soon, besties!🤍
BETTYThe rest of the way, I go over the plan in my head one more time, repeating each step until it feels real, solid, possible.Accept Rhys’s help. But only until we find our own place. Take on more work to keep Grace in that worldly expensive school because she needs at least one part of her life to be stable.Build a new life. Find peace, and lastly, find a new way to be happy.My fingers loosen slightly around the steering wheel as I repeat it in my mind, until I pull up outside the building with Rhys’s club and convince myself I can do this.The building rises in front of me, sleek and dark against the brightening morning sky, the large sign still dim now that the club has closed for the night.The street is quiet, but is that kind of quiet that comes after chaos, when the city is catching its breath before starting all over again.Rhys is already outside waiting for us, and the mere sight of him makes something in my chest ease.He stands near the curb with his hands entwined b
BETTYAs the estate gates begin to disappear behind me, my chest finally caves in, and my fingers tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles ache beneath the strain.I try to keep my eyes forward, force them there, but every few seconds they betray me, drifting upward toward the rearview mirror where I can still see it. Everything we are leaving behind.The black iron gates. The winding driveway. The endless stretch of green, and the roof of the only home Grace has ever known.A sharp breath catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. Hard. Because we are not just leaving the walls and rooms behind.I am leaving Harriette’s voice calling for breakfast in the garden. Grace’s laughter bouncing through those endless halls. Movie nights in the guest house. And I had somehow started building without realizing it.I blink hard and drag my eyes back to the road before the tears threatening behind them spill over.This isn’t how I thought the morning would go.I left the guest house
NATHANIELGrace is still in her pajamas, and the sight of her alone nearly brings me to my knees.Her tiny pink shirt is twisted from sleep, one shoulder slipping free beneath the mess of dark curls flattened on one side of her head and springing wildly on the other.Betty guides her carefully down each step.Her eyes are swollen with sleep, her lashes clumped together, her cheeks pink and warm from the bed she has clearly been pulled from too soon.The confusion etched across her little face is so pure, so innocent, that something inside my chest tightens with such brutal force I have to part my lips and force air into lungs that suddenly refuse to work.She rubs at one eye with the back of her hand and blinks blearily into the morning light spilling through the windows, looking around the foyer as though trying to understand why everyone is awake, and why the house feels wrong.Finally, she sees me. Then Harriette. And I watch her little brows pull together, the confusion deepening.
NATHANIELThe silence stretching between us is alive.My mother stands opposite Harriette, one hand still pressed against her cheek, her fingers trembling over the angry red imprint left by Harriette’s palm, her face flushed with outrage and disbelief as she slowly turns toward me, her eyes widening with expectation I know too well.She wants me to intervene. She wants me to say something. She wants me to do what I have always done and take her side.But all I can think, standing here in the middle of this wreckage, is that she should have known better.Everyone in this house knows better than to speak Betty’s name with venom in front of Harriette.And if I am being honest with myself, if I peel back the layers of anger and grief clawing through my chest, there is a part of me that feels something dangerously close to satisfaction.It is twisted. Ugly. Not something I would have recognized as mine a few months ago. But it is there.A bitter, shameful sort of relief that someone, final
NATHANIELI am on the floor in front of the main entrance door, my back pressed against the wood, one knee bent, the other stretched out in front of me, my head tipped back as I stare at nothing.I am too lost inside my own head.Buried beneath the weight of everything that happened only hours ago, consumed by the sound of her voice repeating itself in vicious circles inside my skull, I haven’t noticed that the darkness in the room has begun to soften.The first streaks of pale morning light slip through the heavy curtains in thin golden lines, stretching slowly across the polished floorboards until they brush against the toe of my shoe, and that is when the realization settles in my chest like a blade.I have sat here the entire fucking night.My head falls back against the door behind me with a dull thud as I drag both hands over my face, the roughness of my palms scraping against skin that feels too tight, too hot, too foreign.I have not slept. Haven’t even tried, because every si
NATHANIELIt doesn’t take a genius to understand what just happened.Betty doesn’t raise her voice or panic. She goes very still, very focused, just like people do when something has gone wrong, and they are yet know how bad it is.The worker leans in, says something brief, and the change in her is
BETTYSomeone is calling my name from the bar while two servers argue over tray placement near the entrance.The lighting technician is asking if we’re committing to warm gold or neutral white, and the DJ wants confirmation on whether the sound check can start early.All of it is colliding at once
NATHANIEL.It has been almost three weeks since Betty and I made a deal, and in that time, she has become a ghost inside her own house.She’s been doing everything possible to avoid crossing paths with me. Moving through the estate with the kind of precision that suggests planning rather than coinc
NATHANIELThe divorce papers are clenched in my hand, my grip tight enough that the edges bite into my skin.She should be packing by now, or at least doing something with her newfound freedom.Instead, the bed is neatly made, smoothed down to perfection, the pillows aligned, her clothes still hang







