But he would never hear it.
The adrenaline crashed. Low blood sugar flared, and the room spun. I swayed, nearly collapsing, but Bonnie caught me just in time.
That night, the company fired Valerie on the spot and demanded $20,000 in damages for the work delay.
I dragged my exhausted body back to the villa, packed the very last of my belongings, and walked out the door.
I left the key on the table.
At the airport, while waiting to board, I opened my blocked list and pulled Matthew out. My feed instantly refreshed. Several new travel videos popped up on his Moments.
He had accompanied Julia Fox across three different countries.
Although the videos only showed him, the background audio told the real story. A gentle female voice was always there, speaking to him softly.
He called her Julia. She called him Matthew.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
That night, when he was drunk and mumbled, *"Let's be together, my love..."* I had thought he was speaking to me. But the tone, the inflection—he had been projecting *her* onto me the entire time.
For five years, he hadn't called me by a pet name. Not once.
It turned out I had been the fool all along.
A bitter, self-deprecating smile twisted my lips. I typed two words:
*Let's break up.*
I sent it. Then I deleted the account permanently.
Almost immediately, my phone began to vibrate.
An unfamiliar number. He was calling. Since I had blocked his main number, he was using another line.
I didn't answer.
The phone buzzed again. And again. Text messages flooded in, frantic and disjointed.
*"Audrey Henson, who gave you permission to break up?"*
*"Where are you? I'm coming to find you."*
*"Why aren't you replying? Are you throwing a tantrum?"*
*"Just wait for me at home, obediently. I can explain everything!"*
*"...Why did your boss say you're going abroad? Are you at the airport?"*
*"Audrey, don't move. Wait for me. Please, just wait a little longer—I'm almost there."*
I took a deep breath, my finger hovering over the screen.
*Block.*
The intercom crackled overhead, announcing my flight. I picked up my small carry-on and walked toward the gate. Once seated, I switched my phone to airplane mode.
I would never receive another message from him.
I stared out the window at the white clouds and blue sky, silently bidding farewell to the city that had held me captive for twenty-five years.
*Goodbye, Matthew James. I never want to see you again.*