Chapter 7
Genevieve POV
The dead silence following the click of the disconnected line was the loudest sound I had ever heard.
Everleigh dropped the act instantly. The fake crying ceased as if she’d flipped a switch.
She looked at the phone clutched in my hand, then up at me.
"You're going to regret that," she whispered.
"Get out," I said.
She grabbed her purse. "Gladly. This place smells like failure."
She stepped gingerly over the broken vase and the scattered cash, slamming the door behind her with a finality that rattled the frame.
I stood there for a long time.
Until my legs gave out.
I sank to the floor, amidst the shards of cheap ceramic and the dirty money.
I didn't cry.
I was past crying.
I felt a strange, cold clarity settle over me.
It was over.
The hope that my father would wake up, that he would finally see me, that he would choose me... it was a cancer. And I had just cut it out.
I looked at the window.
Snow was falling.
Thick, heavy flakes that covered the grime of the city in pristine white.
I stood up.
I put on my coat.
I grabbed the velvet box with the sapphire necklace—the bribe he had given me in the alley.
I walked out.
I didn't wait for a bus. I walked.
Five miles of pavement and ice to the Foley estate.
The cold bit through my thin coat, numbing my skin, matching the hollow numbness in my chest.
When I arrived at the gates, they were open.
Cars were streaming in. Bentleys. Rolls Royces. A river of polished steel and arrogance.
The engagement party.
I slipped through the side gate, the invisible entrance the staff used.
I knew the shadows of this house better than anyone.
I stood by the edge of the rose garden, hidden by the gnarled trunk of a large oak tree.
The house was glowing.
Golden light spilled from every window, mocking the dark.
I could hear the music. A string quartet playing Vivaldi.
I saw them through the French doors of the ballroom.
My father stood on a raised platform.
His arm was around Everleigh.
She was wearing a white dress, looking like a virgin sacrifice who had learned to hold the knife herself.
My cousin stood on the other side, looking bored and rich.
My father raised a glass.
I couldn't hear the words, but I saw the adoration in the room.
The applause rippled like a wave.
He kissed Everleigh on the forehead.
A fatherly kiss.
The kiss he used to give me before he realized I had a mind of my own.
He had replaced me.
Not just as an heir. But as a daughter.
I looked down at the velvet box in my hand.
I walked to the garden wall, where the snow was deepest.
I dug a small hole with my frozen fingers, clawing at the hard earth.
I dropped the box in.
I didn't just bury a necklace.
I buried Gen Foley.
I covered it with snow and patted it down.
"Goodbye, Papa," I whispered.
The wind snatched the words away.
Inside, the music swelled.
I turned my back on the light, on the warmth, on the lies.
I walked back into the dark.
I returned to the basement apartment.
It was empty.
Ignatz wasn't there.
I looked at the calendar.
Two days until the launch.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
My feet were blue from the cold.
But I felt lighter.
I had no father. I had no family.
I only had myself.
And for the first time in my life, that had to be enough.
You may also like
