Chapter 5 No.5

The night of the engagement party was cold and clear.

Elizebeth stood in her room, looking at the dress laid out on her bed. It was a deep emerald green, Jaylah's signature color. A deliberate choice, marking Elizebeth as property of the new regime.

She put it on. The silk was cold against her skin.

Downstairs, the house was thrumming with music and conversation. Floyd found her at the top of the stairs, looking impossibly handsome. He held out his arm.

"They're about to announce it," he said. A command, not an invitation.

She placed her hand on his arm. His touch was firm, proprietary. They descended the grand staircase into a sea of faces. Elizebeth was just a prop. The tragic, yet graceful, former fiancée.

She saw Jaylah across the room, radiant in a white gown. She raised her champagne glass in a silent, victorious toast to Elizebeth.

Later, seeking a moment of quiet, she slipped out onto the terrace.

She wasn't alone for long.

"Thinking of jumping?"

The voice was low, amused. She turned. A man she didn't recognize was standing in the shadows. He was tall, with dark hair and startlingly intelligent eyes. She realized with a jolt that she'd seen him before, in her past life. Keenan Costa. A graduate student who had attended a few of Floyd's university fundraisers.

"No," she said. "Just getting some air."

"Good," he said, stepping into the light. "It's a long way down." He smiled, a kind, easy smile. "I'm Keenan Costa. I think we've met before."

Before she could respond, Floyd called her name, his voice sharp and annoyed.

"Elizebeth! There you are. We're cutting the cake."

He came out onto the terrace, his eyes immediately landing on Keenan. A flicker of possessive anger crossed his face. He didn't remember Keenan. He was just a stranger, talking to his... what was she, exactly?

Elizebeth overheard two women gossiping near the door. "He's so good to her, isn't he? Still keeping her around. I heard he's setting her up with a trust fund. Making sure she's taken care of for life."

Her future. A gilded cage. That was his final judgment on her worth.

Just then, Jaylah joined them, slipping her arm through Floyd's. Floyd pulled his arm away from Elizebeth and wrapped it firmly around Jaylah's waist. A public transfer of ownership.

The sight of it, under the cold, indifferent stars, didn't hurt anymore. It clarified.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the terrace, carrying the first drops of a cold rain. Jaylah shivered dramatically.

"Let's get you out of the cold," Floyd said to Jaylah, guiding her inside. He glanced back at Elizebeth, an afterthought. "Elizebeth, come inside. You'll get sick."

She didn't move. She tilted her face up to the sky, letting the cold rain fall on her skin. It felt real. It felt clean.

"No," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm fine right here."

She watched him hesitate, torn between the performance of concern for her and his duty to his new fiancée. Jaylah tugged his arm, and he let himself be led away.

Elizebeth stood alone in the rain, a small, solitary figure. She was no longer his to protect. The rain was washing away the last remnants of the girl who had lived in his shadow.

I don't need your shelter, she thought. I can stand in my own storm.