Under the weight of dozens of shocked stares, I turned and walked away. No hesitation. No regrets.
My first act in this new life was supposed to be severing my engagement to Caleb Hawthorne at his high-profile inauguration party.
But I couldn't get into the ballroom. I would have to find another opportunity.
Back at the Hawthorne estate, I took off the blue dress I had specifically chosen to match the color of Caleb's eyes.
Everyone in New York’s high society knew I was Caleb Hawthorne’s pathetic little shadow.
When it came to anything concerning Caleb, I was always the first to notice, the first to give without expecting anything in return.
I obsessed over every tiny detail of his life, all in the desperate hope he might spare me a single glance.
Caleb had complained more than once about how tiring it was to manage the group, saying he wanted to go to the mountains in Aspen to ski and relax.
So, coordinating with his schedule, I secretly arranged the entire ski trip to Aspen, including the top-tier resort.
He’d once mentioned the snow there was the purest, the best for clearing his head.
But in my past life, Caleb never went to Aspen with me at all.
He chose to go on vacation with Sloane to an island in the South of France.
I was ordered to stay behind and sort through old family documents.
That night, I slipped on a ladder in the archives and broke my leg.
I spent two months in a private hospital room. When he returned, he just complained that I smelled of medicine.
That feeling—of your life plunging into hell while the man you're supposed to marry looks at you with utter disgust—I would never experience it again.
Getting away from Caleb Hawthorne was the first step.
I packed quickly, taking only my ID and a few changes of clothes, ready to head downstairs.
The door burst open and Caleb stormed in, still in his black tailored suit and reeking of whiskey.
Seeing me with a suitcase, he sneered. He moved with startling speed, lunging forward to snatch the suitcase from my hand and hurl it against the wall.
The crash echoed through the room. The suitcase cracked open. Clothes scattered everywhere.
I frowned. "Caleb, what are you doing?"
"Emily, I should be asking what you're doing!"
"What are you, twelve? Still running away from home?"
"What's next? A hunger strike? Or hurting yourself to threaten me?"
Caleb's breathing was ragged, his golden eyes filled with disgust as he hurled accusations at me.
"Emily, you're not a child anymore. Stop thinking you can manipulate me into accepting you by threatening to leave!"
I stared at my shattered luggage on the floor. The last ripple of emotion in my heart stilled.
"Who told you I was threatening you?"
People like him and Sloane—the hypocrite and the sadist—were doing just fine.
I had been lucky enough to get a second chance at life. Why should I waste any more of it on them?
Caleb snorted. He said nothing, but his eyes were full of contempt, as if convinced I couldn't live without him.
Sloane, who had followed him in, wore a white dress, looking every bit the innocent little flower.
"Emily, if you wanted to go to the party, you could have just talked to Caleb nicely. You two have an engagement; he wouldn't have really kept you out."
"Running away like this is fine once. But twice is just being theatrical."
Sloane's words were laced with insinuation, mocking the foolish things I'd done in the past to get his attention.
Caleb's gaze grew even more disgusted. It even carried a murderous glint.
A bitter memory surfaced.
I suddenly remembered something.
After Caleb and Sloane got together, his attitude toward me changed completely.
It was as if I were something filthy.
In anger, I had once pleaded with my adoptive mother, Eleanor, begging her to help me dissolve the painful engagement.
Sloane twisted this into me cursing their love.
From then on, Caleb hated me, ignored me, and refused to communicate with me by phone.
Sloane's little clique isolated me, bullying me during equestrian lessons, and he turned a blind eye to it all.
I met Caleb's gaze, my voice steady. "You're overthinking it. I'm not threatening you. I'm packing because I'm moving to the cottage on Long Island and applying for a transfer to the West Coast branch."
Caleb grunted, as if I were making up a clumsy excuse to save face.
Sloane tugged on Caleb's sleeve, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.
"Caleb, perhaps we should let Emily stay. She’ll be all alone out there. What if something were to happen?"
Caleb's brow furrowed as he weighed the pros and cons. After all, his parents, Richard and Eleanor, still cared about whether I lived or died.
I refused again. "No, thank you. I've already filled out the application."
A muscle in Caleb's handsome jaw tightened. He let out a derisive laugh. "You hear that? She wants to go get herself killed."
"Stop this nonsense, Emily. You're so naive you wouldn't last three days out there."
Sloane sighed, stepped forward, and pretended to take my arm intimately.
Where Caleb couldn't see, her sharp nails dug into my flesh.
A sharp pain shot through me. I instinctively shoved Sloane away.
She staggered back a few steps and crumpled to the floor, staring up at me with a wounded expression.
"Emily, you… I was just trying to show you some concern…"
