Chapter 2

CRYSTAL BURGESS POV:

"Anywhere but here." The words had tumbled out, heavy with a despair I hadn' t known I possessed. My father looked at me, his usual CEO composure crumbling under the weight of my raw plea.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen me like this. Just weeks before, I had stood in this very living room, sobbing into his expensive couch after Garrick left. Then Jorden. Each time, my father had picked up the pieces, threatened lawsuits, hinted at ruining reputations. Each time, I' d cried until I was hoarse, clinging to him like a lifeline.

But this time, it was different. Andrea Harmon had moved into Garrick' s old apartment downtown, a quiet, subtle transition. Yet, my former partners never came back. It was a silence louder than any argument. No apologies. No explanations. Just... gone.

I remembered Garrick' s eyes, cold and distant, when he told me I was too much. Jorden' s, burning with a strange mix of anger and regret, as he accused me of being a burden. They weren't just leaving; they were judging me.

They' d left me with a new kind of emptiness, one that echoed with their accusations. "You're a user, Crystal," Garrick had said, his voice flat. "You just take." Jorden, always more volatile, had yelled, "You're a spoiled brat! You almost got Andrea kicked out of the co-op with your drama!"

"Do you even know how to survive without your father or us?" Connor had asked, his voice soft but still a punch to the gut. "What will you do when everyone leaves you?"

Their words were hammers, shattering the last vestiges of my self-worth. They had looked at me with open disgust, their faces twisted in regret that they had ever loved me. It was a shame so profound it made my bones ache.

I remembered holding onto Connor that night, after Jorden had walked out. I had cried until my throat was raw, until my vision went dark and the world turned to static. When I woke up, the bed beside me was empty. My final anchor had slipped away.

My father sighed now, the sound heavy, filling the penthouse silence. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just watched me, his gaze full of a love that felt suffocatingly familiar.

"My sweet Crystal," he murmured, pulling me into a hug. His embrace was tight, desperate. "I never wanted you to feel this way. Never wanted anyone to hurt you." He smoothed my hair, his hands trembling slightly. "I won't let you be wronged again."

He held me at arm's length, his eyes still red-rimmed. "You have three days. Think about it. Really think. If you still want this... this path... then I'll make the arrangements."

I nodded, numb. Three days. It felt like a lifetime, or perhaps, no time at all.

I walked out of my father' s study, the grand hallway feeling impossibly long. My head throbbed, my knees ached, and my heart felt like a hollow drum.

And then I saw him. Connor. Waiting.

He stood near the elevator, his phone in his hand. Tucked under his arm was a small, worn children's book, its spine bent. It was the book Andrea's son loved. A fresh wave of nausea washed over me.

When he saw me, his face, usually so expressive, smoothed into a practiced smile. He quickly tucked the book behind his back, as if I hadn't already seen it.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, refusing to break. I walked past him, my gaze fixed straight ahead, as if he were simply another piece of furniture in my father's opulent apartment.

"Crystal? Where are you going?" His voice was light, casual, as if we hadn't just been through a war.

I didn't turn around. I couldn' t. If I did, I knew I' d fall apart completely.

I heard his footsteps behind me, then they stopped. I glanced back, just for a second. He was standing there, a few yards away, still clutching that book. He held it so carefully, so protectively, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

My breath hitched. The tremor started deep inside my chest.

"You bastard!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat, raw and ragged. "How could you? How could you all do this to me?" The sound echoed in the polished hallway.

Around us, the few staff members who were usually invisible now cast curious, pitying glances. My face burned. My humiliation was complete.

Connor just lifted his eyes, his gaze distant. The last rays of the setting sun stretched his silhouette long and thin against the marble floor, making him seem impossibly far away.

A strange panic seized me. A fear I couldn't name. It was the realization that this was truly it. The end.

I stomped my foot, biting back a fresh wave of tears. No. Not like this. Not if I could help it. I wheeled around, forcing my trembling legs to walk back towards him. I needed an answer. I needed something.

He saw me coming, and his smile faltered. "Crystal," he said, his voice losing its forced lightness. "I can't come home with you anymore."

Then he turned. Without another word, he walked away, towards the other wing of the building where Andrea's temporary apartment was. He just walked away, and I was left standing there, alone, with the echoes of his words ringing in my ears.