Jayme Barnes POV:
I stared down at the briefcase.
It was filled with rows of neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills. Crisp. Cold. Impersonal.
It was enough money to buy a house. It was enough money to buy a new identity.
But it wasn't enough to buy my silence.
And it certainly wasn't enough to buy my forgiveness.
"You think this fixes it?" I asked.
My voice was quiet. It was the heavy, suffocating silence before a hurricane.
Autry looked at me. He looked like a man trying to defuse a bomb with a sledgehammer.
"It secures your future, Jayme. It gives you a life away from the crossfire."
"My life was in the crossfire because you put it there," I countered.
I reached up to my neck.
My fingers found the cool metal of the silver star necklace. He had given it to me when I was eighteen. He had fastened it around my neck and told me I was his North Star.
Now, against my skin, it felt like a noose.
I unclasped it.
The chain slid through my fingers like water draining away.
I held it out to him.
"Take it," I said.
Autry stared at the silver star in my palm. He didn't move.
"Jayme, don't."
"Take it, Mr. Villarreal. Or I drop it in the dirt."
He flinched at the formal address as if I had slapped him.
He reached out slowly and took the necklace. His fingers brushed mine. His skin was burning hot. Mine was ice cold.
"We are strangers now," I said.
I turned around and walked away from the villa, leaving the money and the man behind.
I didn't go back to the hotel.
Instead, I walked up the winding path to the old temple garden on the hill.
It was a public spot, but at night, it was deserted. A ghost town of memories.
We used to come here when I was nineteen. Before the engagement. Before Cassie.
There was a wooden railing overlooking the city lights. Years ago, Autry had carved a knot into the wood. A lover's knot.
It didn't have initials. It was just a symbol of something that couldn't be untied.
I needed to see it one last time. I needed to see the lie carved in wood.
I reached the railing. I ran my hand along the rough timber, searching for the carving in the dark.
"Looking for this?"
The voice was high and sharp.
I froze.
Cassie stepped out from the shadows of a cypress tree. She was holding a flashlight.
The beam cut through the darkness and landed on the railing.
There was a fresh carving right next to where the old knot used to be.
It was a heart. Crude and jagged.
Inside the heart were the letters A & C.
And the old knot?
It had been sanded down. It was just a smooth, blank scar on the wood.
"He brought me here yesterday," Cassie said, smiling. "He told me about this place. He said he wanted to make new memories."
She walked toward me. She looked like a porcelain doll that had been dropped and glued back together wrong.
"You're pathetic, Jayme. Scrounging for scraps of a man who only saw you as a charity case."
"He offered me two million dollars to leave," I said, my voice steady.
Cassie's smile faltered for a second. Then it widened.
"Hush money," she said. "He's paying you to take out the trash. Himself."
She raised her left hand.
A diamond the size of a grape glittered in the flashlight beam.
"He designed it himself," she bragged. "We're setting the date for June. It's going to be the wedding of the decade."
Something inside me snapped.
It wasn't a loud snap. It was the sound of a final tether breaking.
I didn't think.
I stepped forward and slapped her.
It was a solid connection. My palm stung from the impact.
Cassie's head snapped to the side. She stumbled back, dropping the flashlight. It rolled on the ground, the beam spinning wildly across the grass.
"You bitch!" she shrieked.
"That was for the rose garden," I said.
"Jayme!"
Autry's voice roared from the path.
He had followed me.
He ran into the light, chest heaving. He saw Cassie holding her cheek. He saw me standing there, my hand still raised.
"She hit me!" Cassie cried, throwing herself at Autry. "She's crazy, Autry! She attacked me!"
Autry looked at me. His eyes were wide with shock. He had never seen me raise a hand in violence.
"Jayme," he warned, his tone low.
I looked down at the railing. I saw a loose piece of wood where the old knot used to be. A splinter of the past.
I ripped it off.
It made a loud cracking sound in the quiet night.
I held the piece of wood up.
"You sanded it down," I said to Autry.
"It was rotting," he said.
"Everything about us is rotting."
I snapped the wood in half.
Crack.
I threw the pieces at his feet. They landed on his polished shoes.
"The Omertà is broken," I said. "I owe you nothing. Not silence. Not loyalty. Not love."
I walked past them.
Autry reached for my arm.
"Don't touch me," I hissed.
He froze.
I walked down the hill, leaving the Don and his future wife alone in the dark.
