Chapter 7

Kianna bit down on the back of her hand, trying to stifle the scream building in her chest. She bit until she tasted blood.

The legal document swam before her eyes. Every humiliation, every betrayal, every cut and bruise and broken piece of her heart led to this moment. Him, asking her for one last sacrifice. One final compromise.

Her heart, which had been aching for months, finally went numb.

"No," she said. The word was quiet, but it was made of steel.

Brayden didn't look surprised. He seemed to have expected it. He sighed, a long, weary sound, and made a call.

A few minutes later, two of his assistants walked in, carrying large, heavy briefcases. They opened them on the floor.

They were filled with cash. Stacks and stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

"A million dollars," Brayden said, his voice flat. "Sign the papers, and it's yours. A small price for the inconvenience."

Kianna stared at the mountain of money. He was trying to buy her silence, to put a price tag on her pain.

More briefcases arrived. More money. Soon, the floor was covered.

"Five million," he said. "And the penthouse. The one you always liked, overlooking the park."

She remembered that penthouse. They had walked by it once, when they had nothing. "One day," he had promised, "I'll buy that for you."

"And a car," he continued, his voice droning on. "The red convertible you pointed out in that magazine."

She remembered that too. A silly fantasy. She had laughed and said she'd rather have a bicycle.

"And a job," he finished. "A senior engineering position at my company. Your own lab. Anything you want."

He was offering her everything she had ever dreamed of. Everything except the one thing she truly wanted. Him. The real him. The one she had lost.

She looked at the money, at the promises hanging in the air. She thought of their tiny apartment, the taste of cheap instant noodles, the warmth of his hand in hers.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll sign."

She took the pen. "But this is the last time," she said, looking him dead in the eye. "This is the last thing I will ever do for you."

Brayden looked at her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He didn't understand her tears. He thought he was giving her everything. In his world, this was a happy ending.

But she knew. This was the end of their story. The boy she loved was truly gone, replaced by this cold, powerful man who thought love could be bought and sold. He was a burden she no longer had to carry.

The next day, Daniel David paid her a visit. He brought her a passport, a visa, and a one-way ticket to London.

"I trust you'll be leaving soon," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "My daughter has been very upset by all this drama."

"I signed the papers," Kianna said quietly. "I'm leaving tonight."

"Good," he sniffed, turning to leave. "It's for the best."

After he left, Kianna let herself cry. Her tears fell on the plane ticket, smudging the ink before they evaporated, leaving no trace. Just like her. She would leave, and soon, it would be as if she had never existed at all.

That evening, it started to rain. A cold, miserable downpour. Brayden was supposed to pick her up. She waited. And waited.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. It was a picture. Jesse, smiling, in the passenger seat of Brayden's car. The caption read: "Sorry, Kianna! The weather is just awful, and I was so scared. Brayden insisted on taking me home first. He'll get you later!"

Kianna stared at the picture, at Jesse's triumphant smirk. She didn't bother to reply.

She walked out into the rain. She walked for hours, the cold water soaking her to the bone, until her tears ran dry and her heart was a frozen block of ice.

Why was she even sad? This wasn't a surprise. He had made his choice, over and over again. His preference was clear.

She finally made it back to the house. Through the living room window, she saw them. Brayden was sitting on the sofa, gently drying Jesse's hair with a towel. The gesture was so tender, so intimate, it stole the breath from her lungs.

She walked past them, a dripping ghost.

"Kianna!" Brayden called out, surprised. "You're soaked! I was just about to come get you."

She didn't stop. "It's okay," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "I'm used to the rain."

He started to explain, to make excuses about Jesse being scared, about the traffic, but she didn't care to listen.

She went to her room and packed. She took nothing he had given her. Just the old, worn clothes she had arrived with. She cleared her browsing history, deleted her photos, erased every digital trace of herself from his life.

She found the shattered model of his first invention in the trash. The cornerstone of their future. She held it for a moment, then let it fall back among the garbage.

She deleted her fingerprint from the security system.

Then, with a small, battered suitcase in her hand, she walked out the door and never looked back.

From now on, she would live for herself.