Chapter 2

The ride home was silent. My father, Senator Davenport, gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. My mother stared out the window, a single tear tracing a path on her cheek.

When we got inside, Blake and Savannah were waiting in the grand foyer. They stood together, a united front. Blake's mother, Eleanor Vanderbilt, was there too, perched on a brocade armchair like a vulture.

"Chloe," Blake started, his voice full of false confidence. "We need to talk about this like adults."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, my voice even. "You ended it. It's done."

Eleanor sniffed, a sound like tearing silk.

"It's for the best. The Vanderbilts require a certain image. Savannah understands that."

Savannah stepped forward, her eyes wet with crocodile tears.

"Oh, Chloe, I never wanted to hurt you. It just happened. We fought it for so long."

I remembered all the nights she'd sat with me, urging me to order pizza. "Don't worry about the diet, you're beautiful as you are," she'd cooed. I remembered her "forgetting" to invite me to the gym, or "accidentally" scheduling my dress fittings right after a big lunch she'd insisted on.

It wasn't an accident. It was a campaign.

"You've been planning this for years," I said. It wasn't a question.

"I deserve it!" she snapped, the sweetness gone from her voice. "I worked for it. I dieted, I exercised, I studied. What did you do? You sat around feeling sorry for yourself and eating cake. Blake needs a partner, not a project."

Blake nodded, puffing out his chest. "She's right. Savannah supports my ambitions. She makes me look good."

I looked from his arrogant face to her malicious one. I felt nothing. No anger, no heartbreak. Just a profound sense of release.

"Fine," I said. "You can have him."

They stared at me, shocked. They expected a scene, tears, begging. They had a whole script planned and I refused to say my lines.

Savannah's face twisted in disbelief. "Just like that? You're giving up?"

"There's nothing to give up," I said, turning to walk up the stairs. "He was never mine to begin with. He was a contract."

"You'll regret this!" Blake shouted after me. "You'll be a lonely old maid, Chloe! A fat, lonely joke!"

My father took a step toward him, his face dark with fury, but I put a hand on his arm.

"It's not worth it, Dad," I said quietly.

I went to my room and closed the door. I didn't regret anything. I was free.