The drive to the Baxter estate felt like a funeral procession.
The silence inside the Harding family's Bentley was thick and heavy. Eleanor, sitting beside Avery in the back, made one last attempt.
"Avery, please, think about this. Dominic is a brilliant man. He will lead Baxter Dynamics into the future. This alliance..."
"Is over, Mom," Avery said, her voice quiet but firm. She kept her eyes fixed on the manicured landscapes flashing past the window. Her calmness was a stone wall her mother's words couldn't penetrate.
In the front passenger seat, Charles watched his daughter in the rearview mirror. He saw the set of her jaw, the unwavering steel in her eyes. This wasn't a whim. It was a verdict. A flicker of unease, mixed with a strange sense of pride, stirred within him.
The car crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway in front of the imposing Baxter mansion. It looked more like a museum than a home, cold and grand and utterly without warmth. The Baxter's butler, a man as stiff as the statues lining the entrance, greeted them with a curt nod.
They were led into the main drawing room. Genevieve and Richard Baxter, Dominic's parents, were seated on a brocade sofa, their expressions polite but radiating a distinct chill.
"Eleanor, Charles. You're late," Genevieve said, her voice smooth as silk but with an edge of steel. She rose gracefully, a queen in her own castle.
"Genevieve, Richard. A pleasure," Avery said, her tone perfectly modulated, meeting their condescending gazes without flinching. The Avery of the past would have been stammering apologies, desperate for their approval. This Avery simply existed, unapologetically.
And then, he appeared.
Dominic descended the grand staircase, a dark prince in a perfectly tailored suit. His face was a mask of cold indifference.
His eyes met Avery's across the room.
For a heartbeat, the air left her lungs. A primal fear, born from a lifetime of pain, seized her. But she forced it down, locking it away. She held his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.
His eyes, the color of a winter storm, swept over her. There was no recognition, no flicker of memory. Just a blank, dismissive coldness. He was looking at a business arrangement, not a person.
He didn't remember.
The relief was so profound it almost made her dizzy. The irony was a bitter pill. The worst night of her life was a complete blank to him.
He joined his parents on the sofa, his long legs crossed, the picture of bored arrogance. His attention was fixed on something in his hand. He was rubbing his thumb over it, a repetitive, unconscious gesture.
Avery's gaze was drawn to it. Her blood ran cold.
It was her rose quartz bracelet.
Her heart didn't just skip a beat; it felt like it stopped entirely. It lay there, in his large hand, the soft pink stone a stark contrast to his predatory stillness. Why did he have it? What, if anything, did he remember?
She tore her eyes away, forcing her focus back to the stilted conversation, but her mind was screaming. She had to get it back. It was a gift from her mother. It was the only piece of physical evidence linking her to that hotel room.
Dinner was an exercise in tension. The clinking of silverware on porcelain was deafening in the silence. Charles was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to broach the subject. Dominic hadn't said a word, had barely even glanced in her direction.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, and the icy facade of his expression cracked. A subtle warmth, a softening around his eyes, transformed his face.
He stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to take the call. He kept his voice low, but the tone was unmistakable. It was gentle. Protective.
Avery could catch only fragments. "... don't worry ... I'm here ... just get some rest."
It was Seraphina. Of course, it was. History was unfolding exactly as it should.
The tenderness in his voice, a sound she had never once heard directed at her, should have hurt. Instead, it was a relief. It was a confirmation. He had his new obsession. Her exit would be that much easier.
He hung up the phone, and the mask of indifference snapped back into place.
He turned back to the table. "Something has come up. I need to leave."
He didn't offer an apology. He didn't acknowledge his fiancée or her family. His dismissal was absolute.
Genevieve and Richard's faces tightened, but they said nothing. This was their son, the heir, and his whims were law.
Dominic walked towards the door, passing right by Avery's chair without a glance. The rose quartz bracelet, still clutched in his hand, swung gently with his movement. A silent, glittering mockery.
His blatant disrespect was the final nail in the coffin. It was all the justification her parents needed.
After the sound of his car engine faded into the night, Charles cleared his throat. He looked directly at Richard and Genevieve, his expression formal and resolute.
"Richard, Genevieve," he began, his voice steady. "On behalf of the Harding family, we would like to formally request the dissolution of Avery and Dominic's engagement."
