Chapter 2

The moment she hung up with Jaden, a new clarity settled over Charlotte. The pain was still there, a dull ache in her bones and a fire in her broken hand, but the fog of her obsession had lifted.

First, she dealt with the physical damage. She drove herself to the emergency room, had her hand set in a cast, and got her bruises treated. She ignored the pitying looks from the nurses.

Then, she went home and began to erase him.

She spent the entire night purging the penthouse of every trace of Bryant Barnes. Every framed photo of them was taken down, the glass smashed, the images torn to shreds. Every gift he' d ever given her-indifferent, obligatory presents for birthdays and holidays-was thrown into trash bags.

The custom-made suits in his closet, the expensive colognes on his dresser, the books on his nightstand-all of it went. She worked with a methodical fury, a grim satisfaction growing with every item she discarded. By dawn, the apartment was sterile, half-empty, a hollow space that finally reflected the truth of their relationship.

Bryant returned the next morning, expecting to deal with another one of her "episodes." He walked in and stopped short, his eyes taking in the barren living room.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.

"I'm cleaning," Charlotte said, her voice calm. She was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, her casted hand resting on her lap.

"You're still pouting about yesterday?" he scoffed. "I told you I'd handle Kalia. You don't need to throw a tantrum."

"This isn't a tantrum," she replied, not looking at him. "I'm just getting rid of things I don't need anymore."

He narrowed his eyes, studying her. He assumed it was a new tactic, another desperate gambit to get his attention. He was so used to her fighting for him, he couldn't recognize that she had finally stopped.

"Your threats don't work on me, Charlotte. I don't care if you throw out all my things," he said coldly.

She finally turned to look at him, a faint, curious smile on her lips. Now that the love was gone, she felt a strange sense of detachment. "I have one question for you, Bryant."

He waited, annoyed.

"Why did you agree to this engagement? The real reason."

"I already told you," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Our families. It was a good business decision."

"A business decision," she repeated softly. A pawn. That's all she had ever been to him. The realization didn't even hurt anymore. It was just a fact, cold and hard.

She took a deep breath, the words forming on her tongue. The engagement is off.

But before she could speak, his phone rang.

His expression, which had been a mask of irritation, instantly softened. The change was so abrupt, so complete, it was like watching a different person emerge.

"Kalia," he murmured into the phone, his voice a low, gentle caress. "Are you okay? Did you sleep well?"

He listened for a moment, his back to Charlotte. "Don't worry, I'll be right there."

He walked past her into the living room, heading for a small antique box on the mantelpiece. He opened it and took out a pearl necklace. It was a gift Kalia had admired, one he had bought for her and left here.

He had come back for Kalia's necklace. Not for her.

The last, microscopic shred of doubt vanished. It was over. Truly, finally over.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, followed by a single, silent tear that traced a path down her bruised cheek.

She rested, then prepared for the annual Sterling Gala that evening. It was one of the biggest events on the New York social calendar. She chose a stunning, backless black gown, a dress that screamed confidence and defiance.

At the gala, the scene she expected was waiting for her. Bryant was there, and Kalia was clinging to his arm, looking radiant in a diamond necklace that Charlotte knew cost more than a small car.

Her heart gave a familiar, painful tremor, but she forced it down. It was just a reflex, the phantom limb of a love long dead.

Bryant doted on Kalia openly. He fetched her champagne, adjusted her shawl when she shivered, and laughed at her jokes, his eyes full of a light he never, ever showed Charlotte.

The whispers followed her as she moved through the crowd.

"Look at him, he doesn't even try to hide it anymore."

"Poor Charlotte. She's a joke. Everyone knows he's just using her for the family name."

"I heard she's losing it. A friend of a friend said she had a complete breakdown last week. I give it six months before she ends up in a sanatorium."

The words floated around her, sharp and cruel. In the past, they would have cut her to the bone. Tonight, they felt distant, like noise from another room.

I'm not going to go crazy, she thought, a cold resolve hardening within her. I'm going to get even.

She would end the engagement. She would sever all ties. She would make him see what he had thrown away.

Needing a moment of quiet, she slipped out onto one of the grand balconies overlooking the city lights.

A moment later, a voice dripped poison behind her. "Still have the nerve to show your face after I had you beat?"

It was Kalia.

"I thought you'd be at home, crying into your pillow," Kalia sneered, stepping closer. "But I guess you're used to the humiliation by now."

"Bryant only keeps you around for your family's name," Kalia continued, her voice a vicious whisper. "He told me so himself. He finds you boring. Predictable."

Charlotte turned to face her, her expression unreadable.

"My name is Charlotte Glover," she said, her voice steady and clear. "It was my name before I met Bryant, and it will be my name long after he's a footnote in my life. You, on the other hand, are nothing without him."

She took a step closer, her eyes locking with Kalia's.

"You're a parasite, Kalia. A pretty, grasping parasite. But parasites can't survive without a host. He will never marry you. You will never have a title, never have a name. You'll always just be the mistress, the dirty little secret."

She smiled, a slow, cold curving of her lips.

"Now tell me, which one of us is more pathetic?"