Days blurred into weeks. Coleton was gone. Truly gone this time. No frantic calls, no desperate pleas, just an empty silence that was more comforting than anything he could have offered. I had been discharged from the hospital, my concussion healing, my body slowly mending. The physical wounds were fading, but the deeper ones, the ones he had inflicted, were still raw.
Then, Beatrix called. Her voice, usually sharp and businesslike, held a note of triumph. "Clarissa," she said, "the divorce is finalized. Everything went through. Faster than we expected, actually."
A quiet hum of satisfaction filled my chest. It was over. Really over. I opened my laptop, changed my flight to an earlier one, a one-way ticket Home. I needed to pick up a few things from Coleton' s penthouse. Legally, I was still Clarissa Stephenson, at least until the paperwork fully cleared, and I still had my key.
I taxied to the sleek, glass-encased building that had once been my home. The doorman, accustomed to my presence, nodded respectfully. The elevator whisked me up to the penthouse, a place that now felt alien, cold.
As I approached the master bedroom, a new sound, one that sent a jolt of ice through me, echoed from within. Laughter. High-pitched and familiar, mingling with Coleton's deeper rumble. Annis. She was here.
A strange, detached curiosity pulled me forward. I pushed the door open just enough to peek inside.
They were in bed. Tangled together. Annis, her head thrown back in laughter, her hand tracing the line of Coleton's jaw. His eyes, usually so serious, were alight with a playful spark I hadn't seen in years. It was a scene of intimate, careless joy. A scene that should have ripped my heart out.
Annis caught my eye. Her laughter died. A triumphant smirk spread across her face as she deliberately arched her back, pressing closer to Coleton. Her gaze was challenging, victorious.
But there was no pain. No surge of jealousy. Just a vast, echoing emptiness. It was the confirmation I didn't know I needed, the final nail in the coffin of a dead love.
I turned away, my movements slow and deliberate. I walked to the guest room, pulling out the small, sturdy suitcase I had packed weeks ago. I gathered my remaining documents, my passport, my most cherished photos. As I wheeled the suitcase out, it snagged on the thick Persian rug, sending a small ceramic lamp crashing to the floor. The sharp crack echoed through the silent apartment.
Coleton's head snapped up. His eyes, now wide with alarm, found mine. His face, seconds ago flushed with pleasure, drained of all color. He scrambled out of bed, fumbling for a sheet to cover himself.
"Clarissa? What-- what are you doing here?" he stammered, his voice laced with panic. "It's not what it looks like!"
He was trying to cover himself, trying to deny the undeniable. It was almost comical.
I didn't turn back. I just kept walking towards the elevator. "It's exactly what it looks like, Coleton," I said, my voice calm, almost detached. "And it's fine. Really."
He ran after me, pulling on a pair of shorts, his hair disheveled. "Clarissa, wait! Please. She-she just showed up. I was trying to tell her to leave. I swear." He grabbed my arm, his grip desperate. "She's just... going through a hard time. I was just being a friend."
I stopped at the elevator doors, which thankfully were already opening. I turned to him, a faint, almost pitying smile on my face. "I believe you, Coleton."
His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths. "You do?"
"Of course," I said, stepping into the elevator. "Why wouldn't I? She's clearly the one you're meant to be with. You should marry her. Immediately."
His jaw dropped. "Clarissa… what are you saying?"
"I'm saying," I began, pressing the lobby button, "she's helped you see the truth, hasn't she? That I was never the right one. That she is." I stepped further into the elevator car, the doors beginning to close. "Consider it my parting gift. My way of clearing the path for your true happiness."
He looked utterly bewildered, then a slow, confused smile spread across his face. "You mean… you're doing this for me? For us? So I can finally be happy with Annis?"
"Exactly," I said, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Go celebrate, Coleton. Have a wonderful life."
"Wait!对了!" he shouted, rushing forward. "Don't go yet! Annis and I can make you dinner. We can celebrate together! You can join us!" He actually looked pleased, relieved even.
The doors were almost closed. I let out a soft laugh. "I have a flight to catch, Coleton. But thank you for the offer. I hope you enjoy your dinner." I needed to retrieve one final document, a copy of the prenup he' d signed all those years ago. It was in his study, tucked away in an old financial file. I had to play this carefully. "Actually," I said, pressing the 'open door' button, "I changed my mind. I'll join you. Perhaps a celebratory toast is in order."
He beamed, relief washing over his face. "Wonderful! See? We can still be friends! Annis will be thrilled." He turned and practically skipped back to the bedroom.
Within minutes, the rich aroma of garlic and tomatoes wafted from the kitchen. Coleton, his shirt now on, was bustling around, humming a cheerful tune. Annis, now also dressed, was setting the table, placing two wine glasses and one water goblet.
"Clarissa, you must try Coleton's pasta," Annis cooed, her eyes darting to me with a triumphant gleam. "He's an amazing chef when he wants to be. He used to make it for me all the time."
Coleton, the man who claimed he couldn't even boil water, who always insisted we eat out or order in, was indeed a master in the kitchen. Another lie, another piece of the facade crumbling around me. He poured himself and Annis generous glasses of wine, a bottle of expensive champagne chilling in an ice bucket. He handed me the water.
The table was set romantically, dim lights, soft music. It felt surreal, like I was watching a movie about someone else's life. I was a spectator in my own heartbreak.
"To new beginnings!" Annis chirped, clinking her glass with Coleton's. She then turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "And to Clarissa, for being so understanding!"
I raised my water glass, my smile fixed. "To understanding," I echoed, the word dripping with sarcasm. They didn't notice. Or didn't care.
Coleton, fueled by the wine and his perceived victory, became increasingly jovial. He and Annis reminisced about their high school days, their inside jokes, their shared history. He laughed louder, held her hand tighter.
"You know, Coleton," Annis said, her voice soft and teasing, "you always said if we weren't together by the time we were thirty, you'd come back for me. Remember that?"
Coleton, his eyes glazed with alcohol, squeezed her hand. He looked at her, his gaze full of a love I had never truly received. A genuine, unguarded love. "I meant it, Annis," he slurred, "I always meant it."
The clink of my fork against the ceramic plate was the only sound in the room. I stood up, pushing my chair back with a scrape.
Coleton looked up, his eyes unfocused. "Clarissa? Where are you going?"
I looked at him, at Annis. A wave of profound disgust washed over me. His words, his actions, his very presence, made my skin crawl. "I just realized," I said, my voice steady, "I lost my appetite."
I pushed past him, ignoring his drunken attempts to grab my arm. "Clarissa, wait! We can talk! You don't have to go!"
"No," I said, my voice hard, "I don't."
I walked into his study. My eyes immediately found the file. I pulled out the original prenup, the one that guaranteed my financial freedom. I placed it squarely on his desk, right on top of his laptop. Let him find it there.
Then I walked to the balcony, where I knew he kept a hidden emergency escape ladder. I had learned to use it years ago, a silly precaution I'd put in place when I first realized how trapped I felt. It was time to use it.
I climbed down, my hands scraped, my heart pounding, but free. I hailed a cab, speeding away from the gilded cage, from the lies, from the broken promises. My plane awaited. I was finally leaving, this time for good.
