Chapter 2

Sylvie's POV

My life was a quiet, methodical countdown for three days. No tears, no fights. I was a ghost in my own home, packing a single bag while he remained oblivious.

On Friday evening, I pushed open the door and walked straight into the inferno.

The living room was a war zone. The air, thick with a haze of cigar smoke, vibrated with blaring hip-hop. Empty liquor bottles were strewn across the carpet like fallen soldiers. Everett's 'bros' were sprawled across the sofas.

And in the center of it all, straddling Everett’s lap, was Thea.

She was wearing my silk slip. The one for our honeymoon.

She held my favorite mug, laughing as she tipped liquor into Everett’s open mouth.

"Whoop, there she is!" Jack called out, giving a loud, obnoxious whistle. "The hostess has arrived!"

The music dipped. Everett’s eyes met mine and he flinched, the busted look flashing before he masked it. He patted Thea’s waist. "Okay, get up."

She just wriggled against him, locking her arms around his neck. "Sylvie! You're home! Whoops. We decided to get the party started early. I saw this in your closet—just had to borrow it. You don't mind, right?"

Her mouth formed an apology, but her eyes screamed victory.

"Thea, seriously, get off," Everett mumbled, but his hands stayed on her waist, a protective habit.

I stood frozen in the entryway, my body rigid. My voice cut through the noise, low and cold.

"Take it off."

The room went dead silent.

Thea blinked, her playful expression dissolving into theatrical hurt. Her lower lip trembled. "Sylvie, don't be like that. It's just a slip. I thought it was pretty... We're all friends here."

"For Christ's sake, Sylvie," Everett snapped, his brow furrowed. "It's a piece of clothing. If she likes it that much, she can have it. I'll buy you a new one."

"I said," I repeated, stepping into the room, my eyes burning into Thea, "take it off. Now."

"That's MINE. Take it off, or I swear to God I'm calling the cops and telling them you stole it."

"Stole it? Are you out of your mind?!" Jack jumped to his feet, stabbing a finger in my direction. "It was a joke! God, no wonder Everett says you're no fun. You're too damn uptight to ever fit in with us!"

"Why would I want to fit in with trash like you?"

I shot back, then turned my glare on Everett. "This is the last time I'm saying it. Get her out of my clothes, and get these people out of my apartment."

"Your apartment?" Thea let out a sharp, piercing laugh.

She slid off Everett’s lap, snatched a document from the coffee table, and waved it like a trophy. "Oh, Sylvie. I think you're a little confused. This place? It's mine now."

My blood ran cold. I ripped the paper from her hand. A title transfer. This multi-million dollar apartment—our home, the one I poured my soul into designing—was now legally hers.

"Everett. What. Is. This?" I held up the paper, my voice shaking.

Panic finally flooded his face. He scrambled up, reaching for me. "Sylvie, baby, listen. It's not what it looks like. Thea's in debt, deep. This is just on paper, for the bank! It's temporary, I swear!"

"But you said it was my birthday present..." Thea whined.

"SHUT UP!" Everett roared, silencing her with a venomous glare.

He turned back to me, his voice dropping into that pathetic, pleading tone. "Babe, please. Don't be mad. Think about it! We can finally get that house with the garden you wanted. This is an upgrade for us!"

Looking at his face, so full of cheap excuses, I felt sick. An upgrade. Right. There would always be another fire to put out, another reason she came first.

"See, Everett? I told you she'd freak out," Thea goaded from the sidelines. "Just forget it. Let the loan sharks get me. I wouldn't want to ruin your relationship."

"I told you to shut up!" he roared at her, finally losing his cool. He turned back to me, desperate. "Sylvie, I swear, I only love you. To me, Thea's just... she's like a little sister. I can't just let her go down in flames!"

I laughed. A raw, bitter sound tore from my throat. I was so tired. Done with the excuses, done with the game.

"Don't bother."

I swung my arm and slapped the papers across his face. The sharp edge sliced his forehead. A thin bead of blood welled up.

"Ow! What the hell, Sylvie!" he yelped, clutching his head, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Keep the apartment."

I spun around, strode into our bedroom, and grabbed the black suitcase I'd already packed.

"Everett, we're done," I said, my voice clear and final. "The wedding is off."

I walked straight to the door, not looking back.

"Sylvie! You don't get to walk away from me!" he screamed, his voice cracking with rage and panic. "Over an apartment and a stupid joke? If you walk out that door, you stay out! You hear me? DON'T COME BACK!"

I didn't even slow down.

The building door hissed open and the cool night air washed over my skin. I took a deep breath.

Clean.

I was free.