I forced myself out of bed that night. I found every piece of our so-called life together — the wedding album we never finished, the love notes he used to scribble when he still needed to convince me he cared, the designer dresses he gifted me after every scandal. All of it.
I dragged the box to the garden, the cold air biting at my bruised skin. One by one, I dropped the memories onto a pile. When the match flared, I didn’t flinch. I watched the flames eat the lace, the letters, the lies. Sparks rose into the sky like tiny ghosts, each one carrying a piece of the girl who once thought she was loved.
I whispered to the fire, “Few more days. Just a few more.”
Back inside, I lay on the cold sheets, heart pounding as my phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a single message from my father: Everything is ready. Noah will pick you up soon. It’s time to disappear.
I read it twice, my chest tightening in a strange, sharp way — part fear, part hope. Free. It didn’t feel real yet, but it was coming.
I pressed the phone to my chest and let out a shaky breath. I pictured Noah’s steady eyes, his warm voice telling me I was his. I pictured the way I’d walk out of this prison with nothing but a suitcase and my name finally wiped clean.
No more wife. No more daughter. Just Lauren — whoever that might be.
The next morning, they forced me to stand at the dining table, drawing up guest lists, talking about catering like nothing had happened. Nadia stood at Xander’s side, her hand resting on his arm like she’d never left it.
When our eyes met, she smirked — that little tilt of her lips that said, You’re still here. And you’re still nothing.
But inside, I felt it like a heartbeat under my ribs: Not for long.
Tomorrow, I'll be gone.
The morning of my mother’s birthday dawned clear and cold. I sat in my vanity, pretending to fuss with my hair. I could hear Nadia’s high laugh echoing down the hallway
One more hour, I told myself. Just let them leave.
The door slammed open behind me. Nadia stood there in her silk robe. Her eyes flicked to my chest and then she lunged. I didn’t even have time to flinch before her fingers closed around the thin silver chain my father had given me when I turned sixteen.
“Give that back!” I shouted, grabbing at her wrist, but her other hand was already fisted in my hair, yanking me backward until I cried out.