Declan rushed home clinging to his last shred of hope, only to find that every trace of Nyla had been cleared away.
That was when panic truly set in.
For four years, he had treated Nyla like a puppet, certain he controlled every string. Now she had quietly cut herself free, and it was the man holding the strings who was falling apart.
He collapsed onto the edge of the bed. Then his eyes fell on the neatly arranged items across it, and his breath caught.
Nyla had left behind every so-called "gift" he had given her over the past two years.
There was the revealing lingerie, the sheer dresses, and the toys he had used to satisfy himself while forcing her into whatever position he wanted. Now they sat arranged in front of him, the irony impossible to miss.
Nyla's POV:
When I could finall
