Chapter 4

Ellie POV

My room had been stripped down to the bone.

Cardboard boxes were stacked high in the corner, leaving the walls stark and bare. The only things that remained were my suitcase and a few small wooden sculptures I had carved-fragments of a life that was being packed away.

A sharp knock broke the silence.

It was Chloe's personal assistant. She stood in the doorway, holding a cream-colored envelope in her manicured hand.

"For you," she said, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

I took it.

The invitation.

It was heavy, expensive cardstock, the kind that whispered money. Embossed gold letters caught the light:

Marcus Thorn & Chloe Vane.

And then, the photo.

It had been taken at the amusement park. The one Marcus had bought out for an entire day, just so he could take Chloe there without the crowds.

I remembered the day he took me to a park just like that. I was twelve. We had eaten cotton candy until our fingers were sticky, and we had laughed until our sides ached.

It was the only time I had ever seen him look like a human being, rather than a kingpin.

I looked down at the photo of him smiling at Chloe.

It was the exact same smile.

Pain sliced through me-sharp, visceral, and unforgiving.

Memories aren't a comfort, I realized. They are weapons.

Maria entered quietly with a tray of food.

"Miss, you need to eat."

"I can't, Maria."

She followed my gaze to the invitation lying on the bed.

"He used to buy you a gift every year," she whispered, her voice thick with nostalgia. "He would spend weeks choosing it. Now..."

Now, I was a ghost.

I picked up my phone and dialed David.

"I'm coming home, David. Soon."

"Ellie?" His voice was laced with concern. "You sound strange. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied. "I just... I need to be away from here."

I hung up before he could ask more.

For a moment, I imagined a world where Marcus Thorn had never adopted me. Where I was just a normal girl.

I picked up a small sculpture from the desk.

It was the Desert Flower. I had carved it from a block of wood when I was sixteen. It was rough, ugly even, but it was the first thing I had made that felt real.

Marcus had rejected it back then. He had simply put it in a drawer, out of sight.

I placed it carefully into a cardboard box.

The door opened without a knock.

Marcus's head of security strode in.

"Mr. Thorn wants this room cleared of all personal items that don't fit the aesthetic of the estate," he announced coldly.

He pointed a thick finger at my sculptures.

"Get rid of that junk."

Junk.

My soul was junk.

He walked over and picked up the box containing the Desert Flower. He shook it carelessly.

"Trash," he muttered.

"Don't touch that!" I yelled, stepping forward.

He ignored me.

"Once you marry that boy, Ellie, maybe you can ask the Don for some money to fund your little hobby," he sneered. "He's generous to charity cases."

Charity case.

That's all I was to them. A tax write-off. A good deed to balance out the murders.

I watched, helpless, as he tossed the box into a large black trash bag.

Something inside me died.

The hope. The lingering fantasy that Marcus secretly cared.

It was gone.

I walked out into the hallway.

Two maids were on their hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.

"The Don is so different now," one said, her voice low. "He's actually happy."

"Yeah," the other replied. "Miss Ellie was always so gloomy. A burden."

I backed into the shadows.

A burden.

I retreated to my room and locked the door behind me.

I looked at the calendar on my phone.

Three days.

I crossed out today.

I walked to the mirror.

My eyes were rimmed with red. My skin was pale.

But my jaw was set.

"Ellie," I whispered to my reflection. "You have to stand up. You are not a little girl anymore."

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.

The pain was grounding.

I looked out the window.

A new moon hung in the sky. Darkness.

It was time to disappear into it.

I thought I had cut the cord. I thought I was free.

But silence, I realized, is just the sound the world makes right before it screams.