Chapter 4

Avery Bright POV:

The pain in my leg gave way to a fever that night. I tossed and turned in the guest room bed, my body aching, my mind a feverish swamp of memories. In my delirium, I thought I felt a cool hand on my forehead, heard a familiar voice murmuring my name, but it all dissolved into the haze.

When I woke, the fever had broken. Alexander was sitting in a chair by the bed, his face etched with concern. "You scared me, Avery. Your fever was dangerously high."

He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away.

"Why didn't you call me?" he chided gently. "You know I would have come home. You don't always have to be so strong."

A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped my lips. "Oh, that's rich. Coming from you." I met his gaze, my own eyes cold. "You and Kiara-a manipulative liar and a self-absorbed fool. You're perfect for each other."

A flash of panic crossed his face. Did she know? How much did she know? He quickly schooled his features back into a mask of weary patience. "Avery, please. Kiara has a severe anemic condition. She bruises easily. She didn't mean for any of this to happen."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to the low, earnest tone that used to make my heart melt. "I know I've been... distracted. Once Kiara is back on her feet, I promise, we'll have the wedding. The biggest, most beautiful wedding this city has ever seen. Just like you've always wanted."

I just stared at him. Did he really think a party was what I wanted? Did he understand me at all? Or was I just a role he needed someone to play? The perfect, supportive fiancée.

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression immediately shifting. It was her.

"Hello?" he answered, his voice dropping to a whisper. He stood up and walked towards the door. "No, no, I'm not with anyone. Just in a meeting... Yes, of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He hung up and turned back to me, a practiced, apologetic smile on his face. "Duty calls. You get some rest."

I just nodded, my face a blank mask. There was nothing left to say.

He hesitated at the door, a strange look in his eyes as he took in my pale face, the dark circles under my eyes. "I could stay," he offered, the words sounding hollow even to him. "If you really need me to."

It was a test. A final, cruel test to see if I would beg.

"Go," I said, my voice flat. "Your 'meeting' is waiting."

He seemed relieved. The flicker of guilt in his eyes was extinguished, replaced by the familiar justification. She was still the proud, difficult Avery. He was doing the right thing. He left without a backward glance.

The moment the door closed, the dam broke. I curled into a ball, pulling the blankets over my head as silent, wracking sobs shook my entire body. I cried for the boy who held my hand with scraped knuckles, for the young man who wrote me a hundred love letters, for the fiancé who named his company after me. I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes were swollen shut. I bit down on my own finger, the sharp pain a grounding force in the overwhelming sea of emotional agony. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

When the tears finally stopped, a chilling clarity took their place. I was done. Done waiting, done crying, done being his second choice.

I picked up my phone and dialed the number for Case Dyer, my so-called husband. The phone rang and rang before going to voicemail. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."

Unavailable. Of course. Just like everyone else. Just like Alexander. A bitter laugh escaped me. It seemed the universe was telling me I was completely and utterly alone.

Fine. If I was alone, I would save myself.

A manic energy seized me. I stalked into the living room and ripped our engagement photo off the wall. The image of us, smiling and happy, was a mockery. I smashed it on the floor, the sound of shattering glass a balm to my frayed nerves. I wasn't satisfied. I went through the house like a storm, gathering every photo, every memento, every gift he had ever given me.

I took the box of memories into the backyard. Shards of glass littered the floor around me, but I didn't care about the sting as I stepped on them. I found a pair of scissors and methodically began to destroy everything. I cut his face out of every photograph, leaving a jagged, empty space where he used to be. The wedding dress I wore for our first attempt, the one that cost a fortune, I shredded into ribbons.

I packed up all of his clothes, his books, his belongings, and had them sent to his office. I called a charity and told them to come take every piece of furniture he had ever picked out. I didn't want a single trace of him left in my life.

By dawn, the house was a hollow shell, echoing with the ghost of a love that had died. I showered, packed a bag with my essentials, and walked out the door without looking back.

I drove aimlessly for hours, the city lights blurring through my tear-streaked vision. I didn't need him. I didn't need anyone.

My car eventually ran low on gas, and I pulled into a gas station. Next to it was an outdoor supply store. A sign in the window advertised climbing gear and hiking equipment. A memory flickered-a trip to the mountains we had planned, one he had canceled at the last minute because Kiara was having a "panic attack."

"One day, Avery," he had promised. "We'll go."

I wasn't waiting for "one day" anymore.

I walked into the store and began filling a cart: a tent, a sleeping bag, a sturdy pair of hiking boots, a climbing harness. I was creating a new life for myself, one piece of equipment at a time.

As I was paying, my phone rang. It was Alexander. I ignored it. I was loading the gear into the back of my SUV when a car screeched to a halt beside me, blocking me in.

Alexander flung his door open, his face a mask of rage. "Where is she?" he roared.

"Where is who?" I asked calmly.

"Don't play dumb with me, Avery! Kiara is missing!" He stalked towards me, his eyes landing on the camping gear in my trunk. A dark, ugly suspicion twisted his features. "What is all this? Did you do something to her? Did you hurt her and now you're running away?"

He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me, and listen carefully," he snarled, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "Kiara is more important than you can possibly imagine. If you've done anything to her, I swear to God, Avery, I will destroy you."