Chapter 4

Cora' s words hung in the air, sharp and clear. Haven looked from the portrait-a Keegan she' d never known, full of unguarded love-to the real Keegan standing beside Cora, his expression soft with nostalgia.

She remembered all the times he had turned away from her in bed, the calculated distance he maintained even in their most intimate moments. She remembered his cool, dismissive words after their first night together.

It was so simple. Love versus its absence. Fire versus ice. The difference was stark, absolute, and it had taken her seven years to finally see it.

The air in the gallery felt thin. She needed to get out.

"I need some air," she mumbled, turning away.

She found a deserted hallway and leaned against the wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths. When she finally felt calm enough to return, Keegan was gone. Cora was standing by the portrait, a smug smile on her face.

"He went to get me a coffee," Cora said, her voice dripping with condescension. "He' s so good to me."

She stepped closer to Haven. "You know, he only feels gratitude for you, Haven. A sense of obligation. But he loves me. He' s always loved me. Even when I left him, he stayed loyal. What makes you think you ever stood a chance?"

Haven looked at Cora' s perfectly made-up face, her feigned sympathy. She felt a strange sense of peace. The fight was over. She had lost before it even began.

"You' re right," Haven said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Our relationship was a transaction. He' s all yours. His future has nothing to do with me anymore."

She turned to leave.

Cora' s face twisted in fury. The calm acceptance was not the reaction she' d wanted. She wanted tears, a scene.

"You bitch!" Cora shrieked, and shoved Haven with all her might.

Haven stumbled backward, crashing into the display stand holding the portrait of Keegan. Her shoulder hit the sharp corner of the frame. A searing pain shot through her, and she crumpled to the floor, her arm scraping against the shattered glass. Blood welled from a deep gash on her forearm.

Through a haze of pain, she looked up. Keegan was running toward them, his face a mask of panic. He ran right past her. He went straight to Cora, gathering her into his arms.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" he asked frantically, checking her for injuries she didn't have.

Cora burst into tears, pointing a trembling finger at Haven. "She... she destroyed my work! She pushed me first!"

Keegan' s gaze fell on Haven, his eyes turning to ice. The concern was gone, replaced by cold, sharp anger.

"Apologize to her," he demanded.

Haven stared at him, blood dripping from her arm onto the pristine white floor. He hadn't even asked if she was hurt. He saw her on the ground, bleeding, and his first instinct was to defend the woman who had pushed her.

There was nothing left to say. There was no point in explaining.

Slowly, she got to her feet. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder and the blood streaming down her arm, she walked over to the ruined portrait. With a strange, cold detachment, she ripped the photograph from its broken frame. Then, she began to tear it into pieces.

Cora gasped. Keegan stared, his face contorted in disbelief.

"Haven, have you lost your mind?" he yelled, lunging forward to stop her.

She sidestepped him easily. She pulled a checkbook from her purse, scribbled a number with six zeros, and tore it out. She tossed it at Cora' s feet.

"I' ve bought it," she said, her voice ringing with finality. "It' s mine now. I can do whatever I want with it. And I don' t apologize for damaging my own property."

She turned and walked away, her back straight, her head held high.

"Haven Parks!" Keegan' s voice roared behind her, filled with a rage she had never heard from him before. "You think money can buy everything? You can' t just throw cash around and trample on people' s genuine feelings!"

His words hit her like a physical blow. Genuine feelings. He thought Cora' s manufactured drama was genuine. He thought her seven years of devotion was something to be trampled on.

Her composure finally cracked. A strangled sob escaped her lips. She didn't look back. She kept walking, out of the gallery, out of his life.

She stumbled out into the blinding afternoon sun, her vision blurred by tears. The pain in her heart was so immense, so all-consuming, that she didn' t see the car speeding around the corner.

There was a screech of tires, a terrifying impact, and then, nothing but darkness.

She was floating in a dark, silent space. She heard a distant voice, a nurse, asking if she had any family they could call. Even in the fog, one name came to her lips instinctively.

Keegan.

She heard the nurse making the call. She heard it ring, once, twice, three times. It was picked up, then immediately disconnected. The nurse tried again. Disconnected.

A cold dread seeped into Haven' s bones.

The third time, a woman' s voice answered, annoyed. "He' s busy. Who is this?"

It was Cora.

The nurse explained the situation. "Ma' am, Haven Parks has been in a serious accident. We need consent for emergency surgery."

There was a muffled sound, and then Keegan' s voice, impatient and cold, came on the line. Haven' s heart, which she thought had stopped feeling anything, shattered into a million pieces.

"I' m comforting my girlfriend," he said, his voice sharp with irritation. "Whatever happens to her is not my concern."

The line went dead.

A profound, bottomless silence filled the emergency room. The nurse looked at Haven with pity.

A tear slid from the corner of Haven' s eye and traced a path through the grime and blood on her cheek.

A clipboard was pushed into her trembling hand. A pen was placed between her fingers.

"You' ll have to sign for yourself, honey," the nurse said gently.

With the last of her strength, Haven scrawled her name on the consent form, signing her own life into the hands of strangers. The man she had loved for a decade had just disowned her on what could have been her deathbed.