Margarita had no idea that Wade and Casey hadn’t truly left the cemetery.
Their car sat idle at the foot of the mountain, the engine silent, the atmosphere heavy with something unspoken.
Wade’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles turning pale. He had tried to start the car several times, but his foot refused to press the accelerator.
"Wade..."
Casey's voice was soft, careful, like a whisper meant to soothe a wounded beast. She reached over, her fingers resting lightly on the back of his hand.
Wade flinched, but he didn’t pull away.
"I know," Casey murmured. "You haven’t completely let go of Sister Margarita."
Her words cut like a slow, dull knife, peeling away the layers of denial he had built around himself.
Wade’s face stiffened. His voice, cold and sharp, snapped back, "That’s impossible."
Casey didn’t argue. She only sighed, her fingers intertwining with his in quiet patience.
"I don’t mind," she said gently. "It’s hard to forget someone you once loved deeply… I understand. I don’t expect you to love me right away. I don’t even expect you to completely erase her from your heart."
Her voice was steady, unwavering. "But I do know one thing—you won’t keep loving the woman who took your sister away. You just need time, and I’m willing to wait. Five years, ten years… however long it takes. As long as you give me a chance to walk into your heart."
Wade’s breath hitched. His gaze drifted toward the rain-streaked window, where the sky hung heavily, pressing down on the world like an impending storm.
And then, unbidden, Margarita’s face surfaced in his mind.
The face he had loved once. The face he had sworn to hate.
Six years. He had told himself he despised her. That he could forget her.
But every night, when the world was quiet, his dreams betrayed him.
He dreamed of their childhood, of her bright laughter, of the way she used to lean in close and whisper, "Wade, we’ll be together forever."
He had told himself she only made a mistake. That she hadn’t meant to kill his sister.
On his days off, he would find himself at the prison gates, watching from a distance, never daring to approach.
And on the day she was released, when the world expected him to rejoice in his hatred—his heart had surged with something else.
Relief.
Joy.
He had told himself he was keeping her close for revenge. But deep down, he knew the truth. He had been afraid. Afraid she wouldn’t survive on her own.
And he hated himself for it.
For still caring.
For betraying his dead sister.
For betraying his grieving parents.
For betraying Casey, who had always been by his side.
"Casey..." His voice came out hoarse. His fingers trembled as he clutched her hand. "I’m sorry."
Casey’s eyes shimmered, unshed tears glistening. "No need to apologize, Wade. As long as you’re willing to give me a chance… I’ll wait."
Wade said nothing. He inhaled deeply, started the car—this time, he pressed the accelerator.
---
Margarita was found hours later.
Curled up in the cemetery’s shadows, her body as cold as death.
Wade’s assistant lifted her into the car, brought her back to the villa. Someone changed her into warm clothes, wrapped her in a thick blanket, and pushed her wheelchair into the living room.
Wade stood before her, a stack of photos and letters in his hands.
Their photos. Her love letters. The rings they once bought together.
His voice was eerily light. "Margarita, these… shouldn’t exist anymore."
Then, without hesitation, he tossed them into the fireplace.
The flames devoured their past—charred paper curling into ash, memories dissolving into smoke.
Margarita watched, silent. But inside, it felt as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her heart, squeezing, crushing—until the pain was unbearable.
Their childhood. Their love. The years she had spent loving him.
All burned away in an instant.
Wade pulled out his phone, his fingers moving across the screen with practiced ease.
Then, he tossed it onto the table in front of her.
"Margarita." His voice was quiet, almost indifferent.
"After Casey and I get married, you can leave. Leave this city—go as far away from me as possible. From now on, we will never see each other again."
He paused, his tone tightening.
"Only this way… can I control myself. If I see you again, I’ll want to kill you—to avenge my sister."
Margarita lowered her gaze to the phone screen. The string of numbers glowed coldly in the dim light—enough to bury her at sea a dozen times over.
Her throat tightened, an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest. If she spoke now, she feared the sobs would escape.
After a long silence, she curled her lips into a smile—one that was more painful than crying.
"I didn't expect Mr. Roe to still be such a law-abiding man... Thank you for not killing me."
Wade's expression darkened. The corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smirk—mocking his own hesitation, his own weakness.
"Take the money. Get out of my sight. Go as far as you can."
Without another word, he turned and strode away. His back was rigid, his steps unwavering—cold, final.
Behind him, the flames in the brazier crackled and danced, their light flickering against his sharp profile. But no fire could burn away the darkness in his eyes.
Margarita clutched the phone, her fingers digging into its surface as she watched him disappear into the night.
A gust of wind carried her whisper into the void.
"Wade… goodbye."
