Chapter 98
I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye–not in the way they expected.
I had one last stop before catching my flight. One final loose thread to cut, clean and merciless. Closure wasn’t always kind–it could be sharp, cold, and silent. And that’s exactly what I intended it to be.
Audrey 8
She was still staying at the hospital “for recovery.” But I had my doubts. How much of her pain was real and how much was performance? Knowing her, probably seventy percent fiction, thirty percent strategy. She’d always been good at bending truth just enough to make it sob.
I walked through the hallway, the tap of my heels echoing like a countdown. Each step reminded me how close I was to being free. My fingers curled tightly around the bouquet I carried–wrapped in sleek black paper, the roses inside as dark as ink.
Black roses.
Fitting, I thought.
A flower that meant farewell. And death. Not of a person–no. Of ties, of illusions, of everything I once thought we were.
When I reached her door, it was cracked open just enough for me to see inside.
And what I saw confirmed everything.
Audrey wasn’t curled up in bed, resting as the doting brothers had claimed. She wasn’t hooked to an IV or grimacing in pain. No.
She was standing by the mirror, humming softly, arms swaying gently to music only she could hear. Her hospital gown had slipped off one shoulder. She was barefoot, graceful, smiling.
Dancing.2
I let myself smirk before knocking once and pushing the door open.
She spun around, startled, and her expression soured the moment she saw me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, voice sharp but clearly startled.
I stepped inside, calm and quiet. “Just dropping off some flowers.“>
I held the bouquet out to her. The black roses practically gleamed in the soft hospital light.”
“I heard you were in pain. But… you seem to be enjoying yourself.“}
Her eyes flicked down to the bouquet and narrowed. “Black roses? Really?“>
“I thought they matched the occasion,” I said with a shrug. “And your performance.”
Her mouth curled in disdain. “You’re insane.”
“No,” I said, stepping closer. “Just observant. I used to think I was the one who needed attention. But it was never me, was it? It was always you.”)
She crossed her arms, the robe slipping a bit further down her shoulder. “So what? They love me. You can’t handle that.”
There it was. Her truth. Simple, smug, cruel.}
“You’re jealous,” she said.
“Maybe I was,” I replied, not even flinching. “But not anymore. I’m not here to fight. I’m here to say goodbye.“}]
Her brow twitched. “Goodbye?“}
“You can have them,” I said flatly. “Jared. Jackson. All of it. I’ve moved on. I have someone else.“}]
She laughed–loud, shrill, mean. The kind of laugh that used to dig its claws into my insecurities.
“Wait… Don’t tell me you’re actually getting married,” she cackled. “You?“}
Her voice dripped with venom. “Who the hell would want to marry you? You’re not even elegant. You’re cold. You’re difficult. You’re selfish. Who the hell would sign up for that? You’re not wife material, Maureen. You’re a burden.“}
I smiled. It was small. Measured. But it burned.
“Maybe I am,” I said. “But at least I’m still an heiress. At least I still have a name. A legacy. A family that didn’t adopt me out of pity. A family that wanted me.”
Her face paled.
“And just so we’re clear,” I continued, stepping even closer until she could smell the perfume I wore, “everything you have right now–this hospital, their attention, your whole life–is because I brought you in. I saved you. From bullies. From the system. From being forgotten. And you repaid me by trying to become me.“}
She opened her mouth to reply, but I was done with her words.
I dropped the bouquet in her lap.
“Get well soon,” I said coolly, and turned to walk away.”
Right on cue, the sobs began. High–pitched and broken. Designed for sympathy. She was always good at that–turning her tears into shields, her cries into weapons.
But I didn’t look back.
I walked out of her room and into the hallway, ready to leave it all behind. Ready to breathe air that didn’t reek of betrayal
But of course, I didn’t make it far
20
2:13 PM d
Footsteps thundered down the corridor, fast and angry Jackson and Jared.
Clockwork.
“Maureen!” Jackson barked as he grabbed my arm. “What the hell did you say to her?”
“Why is she crying like that?” Jared added, breathless and accusatory. His eyes darted toward the room behind me, then to the bouquet. “And what’s with the flowers? Black roses? Are you picking a fight with us?”
I stared at them. Their faces–angry, confused, defensive. Always ready to protect Audrey. Always ready to turn me into the villain
Again.
I peeled Jackson’s hand off my arm slowly.
“No,” I said. My voice was calm. Cold. Quiet.
Then I gave them a smile.W
The kind of smile that said I wasn’t the same girl they used to know
“I’m wishing you all dead.”}
