Samantha's POV
Tears slid silently down my cheeks as I looked at Ethan. His face was dark with anger, his expression unreadable, but his silence said everything.
He didn’t need to speak. I already knew what he wanted. It was for me to admit I’d stolen the ring, to make things easier for him.
Easier to keep up the illusion of Bethany’s innocence.
Easier to push me aside without guilt.
I wiped my face and stood up, swallowing the lump in my throat.
My voice came out calm, as I finally replied, “Fine. I’ll leave. I’ll be gone in three hours.”
That was the end of it. No apologies. No redemption. Just silence.
...
I left Jackson Villa behind and checked into a hotel near the coast.
As I set down my bags, my phone buzzed.
Garrett.
I picked up my phone, answered his call, and his voice came from the other end of the line.
"Sam, I’ve got everything ready. How do you want to leave?"
I looked out the window at the quiet sea. Waves rolled in and out, like a steady, moving motion.
Yet I felt nothing. No peace, no rage. Just emptiness.
"Anything works," I said quietly. "As long as I can leave."
There was a pause on the other end.
Then a soft, almost reluctant "Okay" came out of my voice.
...
Three days later, Samantha Campbell no longer existed in Summerset Bay.
Ethan only messaged me once during those days:
[How’s the wedding planning coming along?]
I didn’t respond, and he didn't bother to message me again.
That was the last thing I heard from him.
With Garrett’s help, I got a fake death certificate from a car accident.
Then I disappeared. Brooklyn Heights became my new residence. After settling into my new apartment, I erased all my social media accounts and severed every connection I had with Ethan or anyone associated with him.
As I was removing my SIM card, Ethan’s final messages came through, one after another:
[How are the wedding preparations going?]
[Have your wings grown strong enough that you think you don’t have to answer me now?]
[Bethany wants to see the wedding plan. Send it to me.]
And then, his name lit up on the screen.
He was calling.
For a moment, I hesitated. My hand stilled.
A flicker of nostalgia twisted in my chest, but it passed.
Without a word, I snapped the SIM card in half and tossed it into the trash.
...
Ethan's POV
I slammed my phone down on the desk so hard it rattled the glass.
“Tell Samantha to come see me,” I told my assistant, my voice cold enough to make her flinch. “She’s got thirty minutes. If she’s not here by then, she’ll never see me again.”
She nodded without saying a word and disappeared down the hallway.
The minutes crawled by. Five. Ten. Fifteen. I paced behind my desk, the tension in my jaw tightening with every passing second. By the time we hit thirty, I was practically vibrating.
She didn’t come.
She always came.
For over a decade, no matter what happened, no matter how badly we fought, she came back. She answered my calls. She stood by me even when I didn’t deserve it.
But love, even the deepest kind, dies if you kill it enough times.
The door creaked open.
My assistant stepped back in, breathless. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jackson. I can’t find her. No one knows where she is.”
Something in my chest twisted. I closed my eyes, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
“Forget it,” I muttered. “She’s not the type to vanish without a trace. The wedding with Bethany is still happening. Finalize the guest list. And send a message to Samantha—”
My phone rang. I cut off mid-sentence.
Garrett.
Finally, someone who’d talk sense.
I picked up without hesitation. “No need to mediate. If Samantha wants to fix this, tell her to show up in the next ten minutes.”
There was a pause.
Then Garrett’s voice came through—flat, heavy. “Mr. Jackson, Samantha was in a car accident three days ago.”
The blood drained from my face.
While still processing his news, he added, “She didn’t make it. Her body’s already been cremated."
As soon as I heard it, I couldn’t move. My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a hollow thud.
