---- Chapter 8 Julian stormed into the estate later that evening, his face a thundercloud. He found Ember in the library, calmly reading a book. "Did you have to do that?" he demanded, his voice tight with fury. "Did you have to involve my father? Now Jeanette is locked in her room for a week, and Estelle is a nervous wreck!" Ember slowly closed her book. "Are you here to scold me, Julian? For your sister assaulting me and your mistress engineering the whole thing?" He flinched. "Estelle is my friend. Just my friend!" "What kind of friend, Julian?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "The kind you kiss in a hospital room? The kind you abandon your fiancée for? The kind you bring into our home?" He was stunned into silence. He hadn't realized she knew. "She' s.. she' s just a friend," he repeated lamely. Ember laughed, a short, humorless sound. "You have no right to be angry with me." He sighed, the anger draining out of him, replaced by a weary frustration. He tried to soften his approach, reaching out to ---- tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She recoiled from his touch. "Don't," she said. "Ember, please," he pleaded. "Don' t do this. Don' t make things difficult. | promise, I' Il send Estelle away after the wedding. Just... don' t hurt her again. Please." He was still protecting Estelle. Even now. Ember looked down, hiding the utter contempt in her eyes. "Fine." He left, satisfied. She heard him go to Estelle' s room. She heard their low, murmuring voices, and then, silence. Later, her phone buzzed. It was a photo from an unknown number. Estelle, wearing Ember' s wedding dress, posing seductively in front of a mirror. Julian was in the background, his expression soft as he looked at her. The caption was simple: "Doesn't it suit me better?" Ember stared at the photo. She felt a distant pang of sadness for the beautiful dress, a custom Vera Wang she had dreamed of since she was a little girl. But for the people in the photo, she felt nothing. The love was gone. The hurt was gone. All that was left was the cold, hard certainty of her decision to leave. ---- The morning of the wedding arrived, a perfect, sunny day. The irony was not lost on her. She sat in the back of the limousine, her white dress a pristine shroud. Estelle, as her bridesmaid, sat beside her, radiating smug triumph. They were halfway to the venue when Estelle suddenly clutched her stomach. "Oh! The pain!" she moaned, her face pale. "I think... | think it's my appendix!" Julian, sitting in the front passenger seat, immediately ordered the driver to pull over. He was out of the car in a flash, yanking open the back door. "Stel! What' s wrong?" he asked, all his attention focused on her. "| don' t know!" she wailed. "It hurts so much! But... but we can' t be late for the wedding! Go on without me!" "Don't be ridiculous," Julian said firmly. "I' m taking you to the hospital. The wedding can wait." He turned to Ember, his face impatient. "Get out of the car, Ember. I Il send it back for you after | get Estelle to the ER." He was leaving her. On the side of the highway. On their wedding day. For a fake stomach ache. It was the final, ultimate betrayal. A public humiliation designed by Estelle and executed by Julian. But as she looked at his frantic, worried face, she didn' t feel ---- pain. She felt a profound sense of relief. He was giving her the perfect escape. She stepped out of the car, her gown rustling around her. She looked at him one last time. "| won' t be waiting for you, Julian." He was too busy fussing over Estelle to hear her. "What was that?" he asked distractedly. She just smiled a small, secret smile and closed the car door. The limousine sped away, leaving her standing on the shoulder of the highway in a cloud of dust and exhaust. She watched it disappear, and for the first time in four years, she felt truly free. She hailed a passing taxi, hiked up her expensive wedding gown, and got in. "The airport, please," she said. "And step on it." She took out her phone and made one last call to Carlo Copeland. "It's done. He left me. Keep your promise." "| will," the old man's voice replied. "Goodbye, Ember. Be well." She hung up, pulled the SIM card from her phone, and snapped it in two. She tossed the pieces out the window. As the plane took off, soaring into the endless blue sky, she ---- looked down at the city shrinking below. She was leaving behind a life of pain and betrayal. She was flying toward a future that was entirely her own. Julian Copeland, she thought, goodbye. And good riddance.