(Violets pov)
I didn’t look back when I left the room.
Let him assume what he wanted.
Let him believe I’d done it for Ronan—because it was easier that way, wasn’t it? Easier than explaining that I was doing it to protect myself. To preserve the last fragile thread of pride I had left.
Lucian thought I still loved Ronan.
He hadn’t said it outright, but I saw it in the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, in the way his lips pressed into a line that begged for restraint. His jaw had gone tight. His hands clenched at his sides like he’d rather crush something than speak.
But I didn’t explain.
I didn’t owe him an explanation.
Let him think I was a woman pining after her husband—because that version of me didn’t scare him.
The truth might.
And so I left
