Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

Of course. I already knew why. My mother had told me everything when she called me earlier.

"Oh, Emma… I didn’t know how to tell you, but Jason, Lily, and Noah… they left for Paris this morning."

Paris.

A honeymoon for Jason and Lily. A family vacation for my son—without me. A sharp, hollow ache spread through my chest, but I crushed it down.

I called again. And again. Still, no answer.

Finally, I opened my messages and began to type.

To Jason Romano

“Thank you for teaching me the most painful lesson of my life. Thank you for showing me how little I meant to you. Thank you for making it so easy to let go. Congratulations on your new family. I hope Lily makes you happier than I ever could.”

I hesitated, then added one final line.

“Goodbye, Jason.”

Then, with a steady breath, I pressed send.

That was the last message he would ever receive from me.

I made sure the flames consumed everything. The memories. The pain. The Emma Romano that had been discarded like trash.

As the fire spread, I stood outside in the shadows, watching the flames engulf the place I had once called home.

The laughter that once filled these walls was gone.

Noah used to run through those hallways, calling my name in excitement.

"Mommy! Mommy, look at me!”

He used to crawl into my lap, his small arms wrapping around my neck as he whispered, "I love you, Mommy."

But now—now he was in Lily’s arms.

Now he called her Mommy.

Now he loved her more.

A sharp, hollow ache spread through my chest, but I crushed it down. Emotions had no place in my new life.

By the time the fire department arrived, it was too late. The body inside was burned beyond recognition. And just like that—I was dead.

The next morning, the news spread like wildfire.

+++

JASON'S POV

The private jet touched down smoothly, and I rolled my shoulders, cracking my neck as I stepped off. The trip had been… good. No bullshit. No drama. Just business and pleasure.

Lily was glowing, still high off our honeymoon. Paris had suited her—designer clothes, fancy dinners, the whole fucking dream she’d always wanted. She clung to my arm like the perfect little trophy wife, soaking up every second.

Noah had been happy too. Kid didn’t hesitate to call her Mommy. Didn’t even fucking look back. And for the first time in years, I felt something close to peace.