Chapter 4

Coralie pulled the handle of the Toyota and slid into the cramped backseat. She brought a rush of freezing air in with her.

Manny glanced at her through the rearview mirror. He saw the expensive dress, the shivering shoulders, and the pale face. He quietly reached over and cranked the heat up to the maximum.

The car doors locked automatically. The Toyota rolled out of the underground garage and merged into the chaotic, neon-lit traffic of the New York night.

Coralie slumped back against the cheap fabric of the seat. The tension drained from her muscles, leaving behind a heavy, crushing exhaustion. Her stomach felt hollow.

Suddenly, her phone screen lit up in her hand. A loud ping pierced the quiet of the car.

She looked down. It was a text message from Arnett Houston.

Stop embarrassing yourself. You never stood a chance against Hayleigh. Give it up, Coralie. Cale's heart was never yours to begin with.

The name Hayleigh hit Coralie like a physical punch to the gut. Her breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around the phone until her knuckles turned white.

Outside the window, the bright billboards of Times Square blurred into streaks of color. But Coralie didn't see them. Her mind was violently yanked back to a memory from six months ago.

It was the annual charity gala. She had spent hours getting ready, wearing a custom gown, standing proudly by Cale's side as the perfect Montgomery wife.

Then, Hayleigh Burns had walked into the ballroom. She wore a simple white dress, looking pale, fragile, and tragic.

Hayleigh had coughed softly and swayed on her feet.

Cale had dropped Coralie's hand instantly. It was a physical rejection, a reflex he couldn't control.

He had sprinted across the room. In front of hundreds of the city's elite, he caught Hayleigh in his arms, holding her like she was made of glass.

Coralie remembered standing there, frozen. She remembered the physical sensation of the whispers and the pitying stares from the society wives pricking her skin like hundreds of tiny needles.

Cale hadn't even looked back. He had carried Hayleigh out of the gala, leaving Coralie completely alone in the center of the ballroom.

The memory sliced through her chest like a razor blade.

Coralie squeezed her eyes shut. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She tilted her head back against the headrest, forcing the moisture back down. She refused to cry over him anymore.

She opened her eyes. She looked at Arnett's text. A cold, self-deprecating smile touched her lips.

Her thumbs flew across the screen.

Trash belongs in the trash can. I wish them a lifetime of misery together.

She hit send. Without missing a beat, she tapped Arnett's contact and hit 'Block Caller'.

Manny noticed her erratic breathing in the mirror. He silently grabbed a box of tissues from the passenger seat and handed one back to her.

"Thank you," Coralie whispered. She took the tissue, wiped her dry eyes, and placed her phone face down on the seat.

She stared out the window. The last remnants of her weakness and her pathetic hope burned away, leaving only a cold, hard resolve.

Soft jazz played from the car radio. Coralie's heartbeat finally slowed to a steady, powerful rhythm.

Thirty minutes later, the Toyota pulled up to the massive wrought-iron gates of the Montgomery estate in Long Island.

This was the gilded cage she had called home.

Coralie paid the fare through the app, adding a massive tip.

She opened the door and stepped out into the biting wind. Her steps were steady and firm as she walked up the long driveway.

With every step she took on the gravel, she counted down the hours until she would be free.