Before anyone could react, I strode up to the stage. My heart pounded as I plugged in a USB drive and hit play. A video montage began to play on the screen, flashing memories of the two years Margot and I had spent together.
“Margot,” I announced, my voice echoing across the room, “even if you want to erase me from your life, you can’t erase the fact that we were together for two years.
“Consider this my final goodbye—I’m officially breaking up with you. From now on, we’re done. You and Steven stay out of my sight. You both make me sick.”
The crowd froze, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
Someone finally dared to ask, “Miss Kent, is it true? Did you date him for two years?”
Margot’s face drained of color. She stormed up to me, her expression twisted with rage and slapped me hard across the face.
“You picked the wrong place to pull this stunt,” she sneered, her tone full of venom.
To her, my actions were nothing more than a childish outburst of jealousy—a pathetic attempt to cling to something that no longer existed. Her slap wasn’t just physical. It was full of contempt, a reminder of how little she thought of me.
I lowered my head, swallowing my pride, as she continued her verbal assault.
“Frank, are you done embarrassing yourself yet?” she spat. “You’re pathetic!”
I felt the fight drain out of me entirely. It wasn’t just her words—it was the years of pain, humiliation, and betrayal finally catching up to me. I was exhausted. This twisted relationship had decayed beyond repair.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to leave.
But, of course, Margot wasn’t done.
“Frank,” she called after me, her voice sharp and biting. “You better think this through. Without me, you have nothing. No one will dare to help you.”
I turned back to face her, and for the first time, I saw my reflection in her eyes—a haggard, broken shell of a man who had endured far more than he should have.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. The world spun around me, and it felt like I was plunging into an endless abyss, the same kind of soul-crushing pain I had felt when my parents died.
But back then, Margot had pulled me out of that darkness.
Now, she was the one shoving me back in.
I clenched my teeth, steadying myself with my injured left hand. A wave of searing pain shot through me as blood dripped onto the floor, vivid and jarring against the polished surface.