Chapter 204
He looked around for something else to destroy. His eyes landed on the desk.
Sitting there, in a place of honor she had cleared for it months ago, was a model airplane — hand-carved balsa wood, delicate and beautiful, with the words To my Star painted on the wing. She had spent weeks making it for Effie.
Kaiden grabbed it.
“No,” she whispered. “Kaiden, please. That’s for your sister.”
He held it up, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Effie is stupid. She doesn’t need toys.”
He threw it — not dropped it, but hurled it with force against the hardwood floor.
𝘚𝘩𝘢𝗿𝗲 yo𝘶𝗋 𝘧𝖺𝘃𝗈𝗋𝘪t𝗲𝘴 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘮 𝘨a𝘭𝗻𝗈𝘃e𝘭𝗌.с𝘰m
Crack.
The sound was sickening. The delicate wings snapped. The fuselage splintered into pieces.
She stared at the wreckage.
Something inside her chest mirrored that sound. Not a snap — a quiet, final disintegration. The last thread of obligation. The last memory of his small hand in hers. The last hope that he might yet be saved from his parents’ influence.
Gone.
Kaiden stomped on the pieces. “Stupid! Ugly!”
She stood up slowly. The room was silent except for his ragged breathing and the sound of wood crunching under his sneaker.
She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry.
She looked at him — really looked at him. She saw the shape of his eyes, Belle’s eyes. She saw the curl of his lip, Grayson’s lip.
“You are just like them,” she said. Her voice was stripped of all feeling. It was dead.
Kaiden stopped stomping. He stared at her, thrown by her lack of reaction. He had expected screaming. He had expected pleading.
He didn’t know what to do with ice.
She knelt and reached under the desk to retrieve the fallen sketchbook. She clutched it and the others to her chest.
She walked to the pile of splinters that had been a labor of love, and stepped over them.
“Tell your father,” she said, without looking back, “that this was the last time he will underestimate me.”
She walked out of the study. She passed Kaiden, who had flattened himself against the wall, sensing a shift in the atmosphere he couldn’t name.
She walked into the elevator.
As the doors closed, she heard it begin — a wail rising from the apartment. Fake, theatrical, designed to summon sympathy.
She leaned her head against the cool metal wall. The elevator descended.
Her vision began to tunnel. Black spots bloomed at the edges. The fever, reignited by the stress and the pain, was consuming her from the inside.
Just get to the car, she told herself. Just get to the car.
The doors opened. She stumbled into the lobby. Ralph said something, but his voice reached her as though through water.
She pushed through the doors into the rain.
She made it to the car. She wrenched the door open and collapsed into the driver’s seat. She tried to fit the key into the ignition. Her hand wouldn’t obey. It fell to her lap.
The darkness rushed in from all sides.
Effie, she thought.
And then, nothing.
“Isolde!”
.