Anger boiled up inside me, mixing with the heartbreak like I might explode. I was furious at him. Furious at Vera. But most of all, at myself. How had I been so stupid? So naive? I’d wasted years clinging to this illusion of a mate bond, believing in something that no longer existed between us.
The truth hit me hard. I turned and ran to my room, my heart pounding, and my vision blurred with tears. Every step felt like I was breaking a little more. I couldn’t keep pretending anymore.
When I got to my room, I grabbed my phone with a shaking hand and called the only person who would still care about me.
“Dad,” I sobbed as soon as he picked up, my voice trembling. “I’ve had enough. I’m coming home.”
There was silence on the other end, but I knew he could hear the pain in my voice. He’d been waiting for this, hoping I’d see the truth before it was too late.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Come home. I’ll be waiting.”
I hung up the phone with my father, my chest still tight from our conversation. Telling him I was coming home had been the hardest thing I’ve said in a while, but I knew it was the right choice. I was done with this life, done with Darius. The pain, the rejection, the betrayal—it was time to leave it all behind.
The door to my room creaked open, and Darius stepped in. My heart skipped a beat, not from excitement but from pure unease. He glanced at the phone in my hand, suspicion etched across his face.
"Who were you talking to?" His voice was low, almost accusing.
I forced a smile, slipping into the familiar act I’d perfected over the years. “My dad,” I said, casually. “He just called to check on me. Nothing important.” I paused, looking at him expectantly. “Did you need something?”
Darius didn’t answer. Instead, he crossed the room in a few strides and pulled me toward him. The suddenness of his touch made my skin crawl. I stiffened as he leaned in, trying to kiss me. I dodged, turning my head just in time.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered quickly, stepping back. “I’m not feeling well tonight.”
He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Clara reported back to me.”
My pulse quickened, and my nerves went haywire.
Clara—what did she tell him? Did he know? The thought of him finding out about the miscarriage made my stomach twist. He didn’t deserve to know. He didn’t deserve that truth.
“What did she say?” I asked, feigning calm, though my heart pounded in my chest.