Chapter 9

Julianne expected Demetrius to kiss Cayla then, to seal his lie with a show of affection. He was predictable that way.

But he didn't. He just held her, his expression unreadable.

Cayla, sensing his hesitation, pushed the issue. "If you love me, kiss me!" she demanded, her voice rising again.

Demetrius leaned in and gave her a brief, almost clinical kiss on the lips before pulling away. It was a gesture of appeasement, not passion.

Cayla didn't seem to notice. She threw her arms around his neck, triumphant.

Julianne smiled, a small, humorless smile. She turned and walked away, melting back into the crowd.

That night, she booked a one-way, first-class ticket to London.

The airline called the next morning to confirm her flight details. Demetrius, who had just returned to the penthouse, overheard the conversation.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, a frown creasing his brow.

"Just a short trip," she said, her voice breezy. She didn't bother to explain. Let him believe what he wanted.

He looked around the living room, noticing for the first time the empty spaces on the shelves, the bare walls where some of his early paintings had hung. "Where's my stuff?"

"I sent some things to storage. To make room for wedding gifts," she lied easily.

He seemed to accept this, his ego soothed. He probably thought she was redecorating to please him.

He left again, off to play the part of the dutiful fiancé to Cayla. He was gone for the next two days. Julianne used the time to finalize everything. Her new passport arrived. Her affairs were in order.

On the morning of what was supposed to be their wedding, she drove to the cemetery. She stood before Craig's grave, the polished granite cool beneath her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Craig," she whispered to the silent stone. "I tried to replace you. It was a mistake. I'm letting you go now. I'm letting me go."

Her phone rang. It was Demetrius.

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice strained.

"I'm visiting a friend," she said, telling him the name of the cemetery.

"Stay there. I'll come get you. We need to go over the plan for today," he said, his voice full of false conspiracy. He was laying the groundwork for his grand betrayal at the altar.

"Alright," she said, her voice calm.

When he arrived, she was waiting for him by the gate. He didn't ask who she was visiting. He was too wrapped up in his own drama.

He drove her back to the penthouse. At the door, he hesitated. "Julianne..." he began, as if he wanted to say something important.

"See you at the church," she said, cutting him off. She went inside and closed the door on his confused face.

Inside, she took out her phone and recorded a short video. She was dressed simply, her face bare of makeup.

"Demetrius," she said, looking directly into the camera. "I know you were planning to leave me at the altar today. A grand gesture to reclaim your freedom. I decided to save you the trouble. I'm leaving you first. Goodbye."

She told the staff she needed to run an errand and would meet the bridal car at the church. She waited until she was alone.

At noon, the gleaming white Rolls-Royce arrived to take her to her wedding. She walked out, not in a wedding gown, but in a simple travel suit, carrying a small suitcase.

She handed the driver a small digital camera.

"Give this to the wedding planner," she instructed. "Tell him to play it on the big screen at exactly 12:30. It's a surprise for the groom."

She watched the car drive away, a tiny speck in the bustling New York traffic. Then she got into a waiting town car and headed for JFK.

On the way to the airport, she deleted his number. She deleted his photos. She erased every digital trace of him from her life.

As the plane took off, she looked down at the sprawling city one last time.

"Goodbye, New York," she whispered.

"Goodbye, Demetrius."

A smile touched her lips. It was the first real smile in four years.