Not long after, another message appeared. Not from Dante this time—it was Miranda, his mother.
I had finally convinced him to follow through with the registry wedding tomorrow. Maybe that would make you stay, she wrote. If not… let me at least help you leave. After everything my son has done, let me be the one to make it right.
I stared at her words until the letters blurred. My chest tightened—not with hope, not with love, but with the bitter ache of years spent believing in a lie. Miranda was trying to mend the ruins Dante had left behind, but it was far too late.
The cake, the wedding, his sudden desperate attempts—it was all just ashes now.
Tomorrow, I would walk away. Not just from Dante. Not just from Elise. Not just from this house that had been a palace and a prison all at once. I would leave the girl I had once been—the one who had trusted promises that had turned venomous.
Tomorrow, I would leave everything behind.
My fingers trembled as I typed back. Nothing could sway me anymore. I’m sorry, but thank you…
I sat there long after pressing send, staring at the screen, waiting for the impossible. Waiting for him to appear, for footsteps that would never come. Hours crawled by. Midnight passed. Still no sign of Dante.
At dawn, my phone lit up with a message.
Elise needs me. She fractured her legs while moving things around. Don’t worry—we’ll see each other at the registry tomorrow for the wedding. I’ll make it up to you on the honeymoon.
I didn’t even realize I was laughing until I felt tears sting my cheeks. Always her, always her needs, her pain, her place beside him—while I was left with promises as fragile as glass.
That afternoon, the butler arrived at my door, carrying a white box. He placed it carefully on the table, bowed. “From Sir Dante, Madam.”
My heart stuttered. For one foolish, fleeting moment, I thought maybe—just maybe—he had remembered. That he had listened. That he had brought my true favorite because he remembered us. Because he remembered me.
I opened the box. The scent hit me immediately. Blueberry.
I froze, my throat tightening as reality set in. He hadn’t remembered me at all. Blueberries had always made me break out in hives. But Elise? She loved them. She had told him countless times how much she adored them.
I had only mentioned it once—hoping, wishing. But there I stood, staring at it, knowing the truth. The last shreds of hope inside me snapped. Whatever lingered of us, of him, shattered completely.
My phone buzzed again. Not Dante. My uncle.
“Althea,” his steady voice said, calm but resolute. “Everything is ready. I’ll be waiting at the airport. Don’t be late.”
I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath to anchor myself. My hands trembled, not from fear, but from resolve. The chains he had bound me with, the hold he had on my life—they were gone.
“Alright,” I whispered, voice steady. I looked once at the untouched cake. “I’ll be there.”
The next morning, as I readied myself, I overheard voices in the hall. The butler, whispering urgently into his phone.
“…Yes, Sir Dante plans to propose to Miss Elise later tonight. Everything is arranged. And make sure Miss Althea never finds out. After all, their wedding at the civil registry is just a show.”
A harsh, bitter laugh escaped me, echoing against the walls.
So that was it. Every vow, every promise, every touch—all lies. The registry wedding, the future he had painted for me, nothing but a performance while his heart was entirely with someone else.
A hollow ache spread in my chest. Fool—that’s what I had been. Twenty years spent on love that never existed. I should have left long before Elise came, long before betrayal hollowed me out.
But now… I wasn’t broken. I was free. When everything turns to ash, there is nothing left to fear.
I stepped out of that house—my battlefield, my prison, my graveyard—without looking back.
At the gates, a voice called after me. One of Dante’s old family friends, the kind who always hovered at gatherings, rushed forward, bewildered.
“Where are you going, Althea? Wait—are you leaving? I thought today was supposed to be your special day with Dante. That’s why he asked me to come…” His expression was a mix of shock and disbelief.
“Actually,” I said, my voice calm, though my chest ached, “it’s his special day with Elise. I am marrying someone else.”
His eyes widened. “You’re really marrying someone else? Does Dante know? Wait—what’s happening?”
At the mention of Dante, my smile faltered. The pain threatened to crush me, but I shook my head. “No. He doesn’t know.” I glanced at the time. “It’s late. I must go now. Give him my regards.”
I slid into the car, closed the door, and as it pulled away, the manor shrank behind me.
Just as we reached the gates, another car passed. For a brief second, I caught Dante’s silhouette at the wheel. He clutched something small in his hand—a faint gleam in the morning light. A ring box. A proposal, no doubt, for Elise, while I would be left behind for the third time. But I refused to look.
I turned my head away, pressing my hand to my stomach, steadying myself.
He and Elise would never be separated again… and I finally had my freedom.
