Chapter 3

The day I was discharged, I didn't go home. I took a taxi straight to the Miles family mansion.

I found Mr. Miles in his study, a grand room filled with leather-bound books and the faint scent of old paper and guilt.

"Mr. Miles," I said, my voice steady. "I want to break off the engagement with Drake."

He looked up from his paperwork, his expression one of pure shock. "Elyse? What is this all about? Did Drake do something to upset you?"

I lowered my eyes to hide the bitterness I knew was there. "No," I lied. "It's not about him. My mother is getting out of prison soon. I want to take her and move away, start a new life somewhere else."

It was the only excuse I could think of that he would accept without question.

He studied my face for a long moment, his own etched with a familiar sadness. "I see," he said finally. "If this is what you truly want, I won't stand in your way. I'll have my assistant arrange a generous fund for you and your mother. It's the least we can do."

"Thank you," I whispered, relief washing over me.

Just then, the study door swung open. "Who's leaving?"

It was Drake. He stood in the doorway, his keys dangling from his hand, a casual smile on his face.

"I came to pick you up, Elyse. I thought we could go home together," he said.

Before his father could say anything, I quickly answered, "We were just talking about my mother. She's leaving prison soon."

Drake' s smile didn't falter. He was completely unaware that his world was about to change.

"Dad, Elyse and I will stay for dinner," he announced, putting an arm around my shoulders. I flinched at his touch.

Dinner was an agonizing affair. Drake, acting the part of the devoted fiancé, habitually placed my favorite foods on my plate. Each gesture was a painful reminder of a love I now knew was a lie. I used to think these small habits were proof of his affection. Now I saw them as the empty motions of a man fulfilling a duty.

"I have good news," Drake announced cheerfully to his father. "The venue for the wedding has been rebooked. We can finally get married next month."

I froze, my fork clattering against my plate.

Mr. Miles looked from his son to me, his brow furrowed. "Drake, that might be a problem. Elyse was just telling me she wants to call it off."

The air grew thick with tension.

Right on cue, Drake' s phone rang, shattering the heavy silence.

He glanced at the screen. It was Kalea.

Even from across the table, I could hear her weak, tearful voice. She had a fever, she said. She was all alone and scared.

Drake's hand tightened on his phone. "Where are you? I'm coming right now," he said, his voice tight with urgency.

He hung up and shot up from his chair, his previous good mood gone. "Why did you want to cancel the wedding?" he asked me, his tone distracted and impatient.

Before I could answer, he shook his head. "Never mind. We'll talk later. I have an emergency."

He rushed out of the dining room, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor in his haste.

I watched his retreating back, a familiar ache settling in my chest. He didn't love me. It was so painfully obvious.

After a polite but brief farewell to Mr. Miles, I left the mansion and went straight to the prison.

My mother looked older, more fragile than I remembered. Her hair had more grey, and her eyes, which used to be so bright, were clouded with worry.

"Elyse, my dear," she said, her voice raspy through the visitor's phone. "How are you? Are the Mileses treating you well?"

I instinctively pulled my sleeve down to cover the fresh bruises on my arm. "They're very good to me, Mom," I said, forcing a bright smile. "Everything is fine."

"And the wedding?" she asked, a sad smile on her face. "I'm so sorry I won't be there to see you walk down the aisle."

The lump in my throat felt huge. "Actually, Mom... I'm not getting married."

Her smile faded. "What? Why?"

"I'm going to take you away from here," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. "We'll go somewhere new, just the two of us. We'll start over."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a deep, heart-wrenching pain. She knew, without me saying a word, that I was hurting.

"Okay, baby," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Whatever you want. Mom will go with you."

I went back to the house Drake and I shared. It felt cold and empty, a museum of a life that was never real.

I started packing, methodically sorting through my belongings. I took only what was truly mine. The clothes, the jewelry, the car-anything the Miles family had given me, I left behind.

Drake didn't come home that night.

He didn' t come home until late the next afternoon.