If he couldn’t meet her heart with even a shred of mercy, then she would not beg for his warmth again. She would meet his coldness with her own.
Her heels echoed like thunderclaps in a cavernous silence against the polished floors as she walked away with a grace that betrayed the storm inside her. Her spine straight, her posture composed but inside, she was shattering. Every step was heavy with sorrow, her lungs aching with unshed tears. A thousand emotions wrestled within her, each louder than the last. She could feel it. Regret swelling in her lungs, mingling with something that almost felt like relief. An awful, terrible kind of relief.
Because now, at least, she knew.
She had fallen for the wrong man. He was cruel. Calculated. A master of veiled daggers and polite venom. And still,
