Chapter 2

ARIA'S POV

I reached out blindly, my fingers searching for the warmth of his skin, but all I found was cold, expensive linen.

My eyes snapped open, and for a second, I just stared at the ceiling of the hotel room, waiting for the reality of last night to settle back into my bones.

It felt like a dream, the kind you try to hold onto while you’re waking up, but the soreness between my thighs told me it was real.

We actually did it. Adrian Blackwood, the guy I’ve basically worshipped since we were kids, finally made me his.

"Adrian?" I called out, my voice sounding small and raspy in the quiet room.

No answer.

I sat up, clutching the duvet to my chest, looking around the suite.

His clothes were gone. His watch, his phone, even the half-empty water bottle that had been on the nightstand—all gone.

It was like he’d never even been here.

I tried to tell myself he just went down to get us breakfast or maybe he had an early meeting with his dad. Being the heir to the Blackwood empire didn't come with a lot of sleep, I knew that.

But even as the thought formed, it didn't sit right with me. Adrian never left without saying something. Not once. Not ever.

I grabbed my phone from the floor, my heart doing a weird little skip-hop in my chest.

I wanted to see a text. Something like, Hey beautiful, had to run, see you in an hour.

But there was nothing. No notifications. Just the wallpaper of a sunset I’d taken months ago.

I opened our chat and typed, Hey, where are you?

I hit send.

The message stayed on a single gray checkmark.

"That’s weird," I muttered to myself. "Maybe he’s in the elevator."

I waited a minute, then two. Still nothing.

I tried calling him.

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable," the robotic voice chimed in my ear.

My stomach did a slow, sickening roll. I tried again. Same result.

I hopped onto I*******m, my fingers trembling a little now.

I searched for his handle, the one I checked probably ten times a day just to see his face. User not found.

I frowned, my brain trying to find a logical excuse. Did he deactivate? Why would he do that today of all days?

I tried searching from a browser without logging in. There he was. Adrian Blackwood, looking perfect in his graduation photo from yesterday.

I logged back in and searched again. Nothing.

"He blocked me," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "He actually blocked me."

I felt like I’d been doused in ice water.

This was the guy who used to carry my books when Lydia hid my backpack. The guy who sat with me in the library for hours even though he hated studying.

He was my best friend before he was my lover.

How do you go from telling someone you’re never letting them go to erasing them before the sun is even fully up?

I didn't have time to fall apart in the hotel room. If I wasn't home soon, my father would have my head.

I scrambled into my clothes, the plain black lace from last night feeling like a mockery now.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—hair a mess, lips swollen, looking like a girl who had just been loved. What a joke.

The ride back to the Vale mansion was a blur.

I let myself in through the side door, hoping to slip upstairs unnoticed, but life has never been that kind to me.

"Look what the cat dragged in," a sharp voice called out from the dining room.

Lydia was sitting there, looking perfectly polished in a silk robe, sipping tea like she didn't spend her life making mine a living hell.

My stepmother, Veronica, was next to her, looking over a guest list for some gala. Neither of them looked happy to see me.

"You look like a mess, Aria," Veronica said without looking up. "I hope you weren't out making a spectacle of yourself. Your father is already annoyed that you missed breakfast. You know the rules of this house."

"I was just... out with friends," I lied, my voice shaking.

Lydia let out a dry, high-pitched laugh. "Friends? You mean friend. Singular. And don't worry, I saw Adrian this morning. He looked quite relieved to be rid of his little shadow."

I froze on the bottom step. "You saw him?"

"Oh, yes," Lydia said, leaning back and admiring her manicure. "He stopped by to drop off a few things before heading to the airport. He’s gone, Aria. A high-society summer tour through Europe. His parents finally talked some sense into him about the company’s image. Apparently, hanging around a charity case like you was starting to look bad for the brand."

"He wouldn't erase me without saying goodbye," I snapped, even as my phone stayed silent in my hand.

"He did more than say goodbye," Lydia smirked. "He told me he was tired of playing the hero. He said last night was just a... graduation gift. A way to close the book on his childhood pity project."

The words hit me harder than a physical blow. A pity project. Is that all I was?

I thought back to eighth grade, when he found me crying behind the gym because Lydia had told everyone my mother died because she was embarrassed of me. He’d stayed there until I stopped shaking.

Was that a pity too?

"Get upstairs and clean yourself up," Veronica snapped, finally looking at me with those cold, judgmental eyes. "We have a reputation to maintain, even if you don't. And don't bother trying to call the Blackwoods. They’ve made it very clear that Adrian is moving on to bigger and better things. You’d do well to do the same."

I didn't wait for her to finish. I ran up the stairs, my chest heaving, and slammed my bedroom door shut.

I locked it and slumped against the wood, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor.

I looked at my room. It was filled with textbooks, notebooks, and the quiet loneliness I’d lived in for years.

The only bright spot in this house had been the thought of him.

I pulled my laptop onto my lap, my hands still shaking, and opened my digital archives.

I looked at the old photos of us—two kids who didn't care about social status or corporate empires. Or so I thought.

I spent the next three hours trying every way I could think of to reach him.

Email? No response. His work office? The secretary told me he wasn't taking calls. I even tried calling his mother, but the line went dead the moment I said my name.

The realization started to sink in like a slow-acting poison. He wasn't just gone for the summer. He had scrubbed me out. For good. Forever. 

Every text, every promise, every "I love you" whispered against my skin last night—it was all gone.

I picked up one of my heavy organic chemistry books, staring at the cover without seeing it.

I had to hide it. I had to hide the heartbreak, the confusion, and the sheer terror that was starting to take root in my gut.

In this house, weakness was an invitation for more cruelty.

"You're okay," I lied to myself, hugging the textbook to my chest. "You've survived without him before. You're a genius, right? You can figure this out."

But as the silence of the room closed in on me, I realized the terrifying truth.

The boy who had always been my shield, the one person I thought would protect me from the world, had just become the person I needed protection from most.

I was alone in a house that hated me, and the only person I loved had left me in the dark.