Genevieve POV
The gala continued behind the glass doors, a muted fishbowl of wealth and deceit. I could see them-the clinking glasses, the forced smiles-but I no longer felt like I belonged to the same species.
I paused for a moment, watching Ignatz through the pane. He was laughing at something a business partner said. It was the same laugh he used when I handed him the business plan for Foley Tech's expansion five years ago.
The memory clawed its way to the surface.
"This is brilliant, Gen," he had said then, holding my binder with a look of awe. "But... if we put your name on it, people will think it's just nepotism. Let me present it. For us."
I had nodded, eager to help him rise. Eager to be the wind beneath his wings.
Tonight, on the massive LED screens around the ballroom, they were displaying the blueprints for the "Eden Project"-a sustainable housing initiative.
"Designed by the visionary Everleigh and Ignatz Turner," the screen read.
I had drawn those lines. I had calculated the load-bearing walls at 3:00 AM while Ignatz slept. I had solved the ventilation issue while Everleigh was at a spa in Bali.
He hadn't just stolen it. He had surgically removed my contribution and grafted it onto her, just like he gave her my dignity.
Ignatz stepped away from the crowd and walked toward the terrace doors where I stood. He looked flushed, happy. He pushed the door open, letting out a blast of warm air and jazz music.
"You brought the keys?" he asked, not looking at me, checking his watch.
"I gave them to your assistant," I said.
He nodded, distracted. "Good. Listen, Gen. About earlier... I know you're upset. But once Everleigh's movie wraps, things will settle down. I was thinking... I can buy you a condo uptown. You wouldn't have to work. You could just be... available."
He was offering to make me his mistress. A kept woman. A dirty little secret.
"Available," I repeated, the word tasting like ash.
"Yeah. You know I care about you. I just can't have you in the spotlight right now."
He reached for my pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He turned back to the room, preparing to go back on stage to put the ring on Everleigh's finger.
"I won't sacrifice anymore, Ignatz," I said.
He barely heard me. "What? Look, go home. Get some sleep. You look terrible."
He went back inside. Meredith intercepted him, shooting a glare at me through the glass before yanking the velvet curtains shut.
I was dismissed.
"My time is short," I whispered. I could feel the cramping returning, a physical reminder of the loss he refused to acknowledge.
I returned to the apartment for the last time.
It was freezing. I didn't turn on the heat.
I gathered everything Ignatz had ever given me. The cheap silver bracelet from our first year. The dried roses from a Valentine's Day three years ago. The framed photo of us where he was looking at the camera and I was looking at him.
I threw them into the metal trash can in the kitchen.
I struck a match.
The fire caught quickly on the dry petals. I watched the flames curl the edges of the photo. I watched his smiling face melt and bubble until it was nothing but black, twisted plastic.
I sat at the wobbly table and opened my leather-bound diary. I picked up a pen.
Entry 1,825.
I loved a man who didn't exist. I built a castle on quicksand. Today, he asked me to be his dirty secret. Today, he celebrated while our baby is gone.
I wrote until my hand cramped. I poured five years of silence onto the pages.
My child, I wrote at the end. Mommy is sorry. Mommy loved the wrong person. I couldn't protect you from his ambition.
I closed the book. I left it on the center of the table.
Underneath my pillow, I placed the crumpled ultrasound photo and the discharge papers from the hospital. The diagnosis: Spontaneous abortion due to extreme physical stress and trauma.
I pulled out my phone one last time. I sent two encrypted messages. One to my father, Arlington. One to Kaleb, my father's protégé and the only man in that world who had ever looked at me with kindness.
Goodbye.
I left the phone on the counter.
I picked up my single suitcase. I walked out of the apartment, leaving the door unlocked.
The snow had deepened. I walked toward the train station, my footsteps heavy but steady. Behind me, the city celebrated the engagement of the year. Ahead of me, there was only the dark, cold unknown.
And for the first time in five years, I could breathe.
