Chapter 9

I turned to head up the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears. I was shaking, but for the first time in my life, I felt light. The secret was out. The poison was drained.

"Wait."

The voice was barely a whisper, but it stopped me cold.

I turned back. Skylar was standing in the middle of the room, her face pale as a sheet. She was looking between Tyler and me, her eyes wide with horror.

"Don't listen to her, babe," Tyler said quickly, stepping toward her with a nervous laugh. He reached for her arm, desperation clawing at his voice. "She's lying. She's just crazy. You know how she is."

Skylar flinched away from his touch like he was radioactive.

"Did you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Did you assault her?"

"Of course not! She's making it up for attention!"

"She has a scar, Tyler," Skylar whispered. She looked at my mother, who was refusing to meet anyone's eyes, busying herself with a napkin. "And look at them. They aren't denying it happened. They are just mad she said it out loud."

"Skylar, come on—"

"Oh my god," Skylar breathed, a hand flying to her mouth. "That’s why. That’s why she wouldn't make the cake. Not because she’s difficult. Because you’re... you’re a monster."

"You’re going to believe her over me?" Tyler snapped, his nice-guy mask finally slipping to reveal the ugliness underneath. "She’s a nobody! A charity case!"

Skylar looked at him. Then she looked at the bruise blooming on my cheek where Thomas had slapped me.

"You people are sick," she hissed.

She looked down at the massive diamond ring on her finger—the ring Tyler had bragged cost three months' salary. With a violent jerk, she ripped it off.

"I’m done," she said.

She threw the ring. It hit Tyler square in the chest and bounced onto the floor with a hollow ping.

"I’m out. Don't call me. Don't come near me."

"Skylar! Wait!" Tyler scrambled after her, tripping over his own feet as she stormed out the front door and slammed it behind her.

The silence that followed was absolute.

I watched the door, a dark, warm satisfaction curling in my gut. Karma. Finally.

"Are you happy?" Thomas snarled, turning on me. His face was a mask of pure hatred. "You ruined it. You ruined everything!"

"I didn't ruin anything," I said calmly. "You did. You raised a predator and protected him. Now you deal with the consequences."

"I regret the day we took you in!" Mom screamed, her composure finally shattering. "I wish we had left you in that orphanage! You are nothing but a curse on this family!"

Her words were meant to cut me, to make me bleed one last time. But they didn't penetrate. They just bounced off the armor I had built.

"The feeling is mutual, Mom," I said.

I turned and walked up the stairs. I didn't run. I didn't cry.

I went into my room and grabbed the two suitcases I had packed the night before. I looked around the room one last time. The bed where I had cried myself to sleep. The desk I had used to barricade the door.

I left the expensive coat they had bought me for Christmas two years ago. I took only what was mine.

I dragged the bags downstairs. My parents were still in the dining room, arguing, shouting at each other, their perfect family facade crumbling into dust. They didn't even notice me leave.

I walked out the front door and closed it quietly behind me.

The morning air was crisp and cold. I dragged my suitcases down the driveway to the curb.

I stood there for a moment, looking at the house. I had no money in my pocket. I had no phone. I had nowhere to go if this didn't work.

But then, a low hum vibrated through the street.

A sleek, black limousine turned the corner. It glided silently down the road, looking like a spaceship in a neighborhood of minivans, and pulled up right in front of me.

The back window rolled down.

The driver—the older man with the emotionless eyes—stepped out and opened the back door.

"Good morning, Miss Vale," he said, his voice polite and steady. "Monsieur Aurelien sent me. He hates to be kept waiting."

I looked back at the house one last time. The curtains moved in the living room window. I saw Thomas’s face peering out, purple with confusion and rage as he saw the luxury car parked in front of his driveway.

I looked at the driver and smiled.

"I'm ready," I said.

I slid into the plush leather seat of the limousine. The door shut with a solid, expensive thud, sealing out the noise, the Vales, and the pain of the last ten years.

As the car pulled away, I didn't look back.

I was heading toward a new life.