“Ryan, say it again. Are you really claiming I took those pictures myself?”
Of course, he didn’t dare.
He looked away, trying to sound firm.
“Enough, Sophia. Stop dragging this out. It’s getting pathetic.”
Pathetic?
I staggered back, then laughed bitterly. Like a madwoman, I grabbed his collar, demanding he admit the truth.
In the struggle, Emily suddenly shrieked and fell to the floor.
“Sophia, why did you push me?”
“When did I—”
Before I could finish, a burning pain struck my face.
Ryan had slapped me.
“Enough! Sophia, will you ever stop?!”
I froze.
So did Ryan, staring at his own hand as if in shock.
“Sophia, I didn’t mean to—”
But he stopped short. Because I had ripped off the family heirloom pendant from my neck—the birthday gift he gave me ten years ago—and hurled it to the floor.
I had treasured it, never once taking it off.
Now it lay shattered in two.
“Ryan, I’m done. This ends here.”
I turned and walked away, my face drained of all strength.
Faintly, I heard Emily asking if he wanted to chase after me.
Ryan said no.
“It’s her fault. She’ll come back begging soon enough. No point wasting time on someone who doesn’t matter.”
But Ryan was wrong.
This time, I would never return.
When I got home, my parents called.
They asked about the photos online, and I had no choice but to tell them everything about the past seven years with Ryan.
My father was furious, ready to storm to the Carter family to demand justice, but I stopped him.
