Chapter 2

Iris Marsh POV:

My hands shook so violently I thought my phone would fly out of them. A cold tremor ran through my entire body, a stark contrast to the burning rage that consumed me. Never in my life had I imagined I'd be sending such desperate, accusatory messages to a complete stranger. Never had I thought I'd be reduced to this.

Then, a new message popped up from Jayda. Not a picture this time, just text.

"Come to the Sky Tower penthouse. Apartment 32B. If you're brave enough."

My jaw clenched. Brave enough? This wasn't about bravery. This was about a betrayal so deep it felt like my insides were being torn out. I didn't think. I just acted. I threw on the first clothes I could find, my hands fumbling with the buttons. My headache was a distant throb now, overshadowed by a furious, almost manic energy.

I hailed a cab on the street, the cold morning air a sharp slap to my face. My mind raced, a jumble of raw emotions. What would I say? What would I do? Confront them? Scream? Cry? A part of me just wanted answers, to rip off the bandage of uncertainty, no matter how much it hurt. Another part, a terrified, shrinking part, just wanted to go back to bed and pretend none of this was real. But the images of Bennett, so tender with her, so dismissive of me, spurred me on.

The cab pulled up to the gleaming, glass edifice of the Sky Tower. It was one of the most exclusive buildings in the city, the kind of place Bennett used to talk about buying "someday." A bitter laugh escaped me. Looks like his "someday" came, just not with me.

I stepped into the luxurious lobby, my cheap clothes feeling out of place against the polished marble and hushed opulence. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst. Which floor? Jayda had said 32B.

The elevator ride up felt endless. Each floor was another turn of the knife. When the doors finally slid open on the 32nd floor, I took a shaky breath and stepped out. The hallway was silent, carpeted, almost eerily still. I found 32B. The door was slightly ajar.

Through the crack, I saw him. Bennett. He was sitting on a plush sofa, laughing. His arm was around her. Jayda. She was even more stunning in person, with an effortless grace and a sparkle in her eyes that I felt had long since died in mine. Her skin glowed with youth and confidence. She looked at him with an adoration that mirrored my own past devotion.

They were so natural together, so comfortable. A punch to my gut. The laughter, the easy intimacy, the way he leaned into her. It was all a mirror of what we once had, distorted and defiled.

My vision blurred with fresh tears and a blinding rage. I pushed the door open the rest of the way, a raw, guttural cry tearing from my throat.

"Bennett!"

Their laughter died. Their smiles froze. Bennett's head snapped toward me, his eyes widening in shock, then narrowing in something akin to anger. Jayda's expression morphed from surprise to a sly, knowing smirk.

"Iris? What are you doing here?" Bennett's voice was sharp, accusatory, completely devoid of the warmth I' d just seen him lavish on her.

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Jayda. "You! You sent those pictures, didn't you, you manipulative little-"

Before I could finish, Bennett was on his feet, moving with a speed I hadn' t seen from him in years. He stepped in front of Jayda, shielding her, his body a solid wall between us.

"Iris, stop it! What is wrong with you?" He pushed me back, not gently, his hand firm on my shoulder. It was just enough to throw me off balance.

My heart twisted. He was protecting her. Her. Not me. The woman he'd promised to love, honor, and cherish. The woman who had sacrificed everything for him.

"What's wrong with me?" I choked out, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "What's wrong with you? You've been gone for days, and I find you here, playing house with her?"

Bennett's face hardened. "You're being hysterical. This isn't what it looks like. You're paranoid."

Paranoid. That word, always his go-to when he wanted to dismiss my feelings. It echoed in my ears, a cruel mockery.

Jayda peeked out from behind him, her eyes wide and innocent, but a flicker of triumph danced in their depths. She tucked herself closer to Bennett, leaning against his back.

In that moment, everything became crystal clear. The gaslighting, the dismissiveness, the outright lies. The way he looked at me, not with love, but with annoyance. And the way she looked at me, with a smug satisfaction.

The fight drained out of me, replaced by a profound, chilling emptiness. What was I even doing here? Begging a man who didn't want me, who clearly despised me, to choose me?

I stopped struggling. My shoulders slumped. All the anger, the pain, the frantic energy, simply evaporated. There was nothing left but a hollow ache.

I looked at Bennett, truly looked at him. The man I had loved, the man I had built my life around, was gone. This cold, defensive stranger was not him. Or perhaps, this was always him, and I had just been too blind to see it.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice raw. "Keep her."

I turned, my back to them, and walked out of the apartment. Each step was heavy, but with a strange, new resolve. I didn't look back. I couldn't. The elevator doors closed, sealing me in a cold, metallic box.

As it descended, a memory, sharp and vivid, cut through the haze of my despair. My mother, on my wedding day, warning me, "Iris, only marry a man who would never let go of your hand, no matter what." Bennett had let go. And I realized, with a crushing certainty, that I was utterly alone.