Chapter 4 No.4

He hesitated. His thumb hovered over the decline button. For a second, I thought he might actually choose me.

Then he swiped green.

"Serena?" His voice was tight.

I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the towel tighter around myself. I watched him.

"Julian!" Her voice was shrill, loud enough for me to hear. "The paparazzi are inside the hotel! They're in the lobby, trying to get to the elevators. I can't leave my room! I'm scared, Julian, I can't breathe!"

Julian's posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders turned into protective alertness. "Did you call hotel security?"

"They're trying to clear them out, but it's a zoo! Please, come back. You're the only one who can handle them. Please, Julian." Sobs racked her voice.

Julian looked at me. He looked at my bandaged leg, then at the torn papers on the bed. He was torn. I could see the calculation in his eyes-Evelyn is here, she's safe, she's just angry. Serena is trapped.

"I'll be there," he said.

He hung up.

"Harrison is downstairs," he said to me, not meeting my eyes. "He'll stay with you. I'll send a doctor. I just... I need to handle this. She's fragile, Evelyn. You're strong. You've always been the strong one."

I stood up. My legs were shaking, but I forced them to hold me.

"Go," I said. "But know this: if you walk out that door, you don't come back."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He walked over to me, intending to kiss my forehead-a reflex, a habit.

As he leaned in, the smell hit me again. That cloying, sweet gardenia scent clinging to his lapel. It mixed with the smell of my own burnt hair and the antiseptic.

It was the smell of betrayal.

My hand moved before my brain registered the decision.

Smack.

The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

My palm stung. Julian's head snapped to the side. He froze, his hand coming up to touch his cheek. He looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. I had never raised a voice to him, let alone a hand.

"You disgust me," I whispered.

Julian's shock turned into a cold fury. He straightened his jacket. "We will discuss your behavior when I return. When you are less... hysterical."

He turned on his heel and walked out.

I listened to his footsteps fade. I listened to the front door slam. I listened to the silence rushing back in to fill the void he left.

I didn't cry. I was done crying.

I moved with mechanical precision. I dressed in the jeans and t-shirt I had packed. I put on a pair of sneakers, wincing as I tied the laces.

I walked into the massive walk-in closet. It was filled with thousands of dollars of clothes he had bought me. I grabbed armfuls of them-Chanel, Dior, Prada-and threw them onto the floor. I kicked a pair of Louboutins across the room.

I took only what was mine. My laptop. My hard drive. My passport.

I walked out to the foyer. On the marble console table, there was a crystal bowl where we kept keys.

I twisted the diamond ring off my finger. The 'Vance Rose,' a five-carat pink diamond that weighed down my hand like a shackle. It left a pale indentation on my skin, a ghost of a marriage.

I dropped the ring into the bowl. Clink.

I took the elevator down. The doorman, Ralph, looked surprised to see me with a suitcase at 11 PM.

"Mrs. Vance? Do you need the car?"

"No, Ralph."

"But... sir just left. Did you miss him?"

I pushed through the revolving doors into the cool night air. A black Uber was waiting at the curb.

"I didn't miss him, Ralph," I said over my shoulder. "I finally escaped him."

I got into the car. "Brooklyn," I told the driver.

As the car pulled away, I didn't look back at the Vance Tower piercing the sky. I looked forward, into the dark, unknown city.