Elena POV:

While I mourned, Killian showered Dallas with gifts—a new penthouse overlooking the city, a cherry-red sports car, the life I was supposed to have.

I saw the pictures online, a gallery of my stolen future that served as a stark, painful contrast to my reality.

I charged Leo’s simple casket to my credit card. I took his ashes out on a small boat and scattered them into the gray, choppy sea.

Alone.

Killian didn’t come to the funeral. He didn’t even call.

He sent an absurdly large arrangement of white lilies, a flower I’ve always despised. I threw them in the trash without a glance at the card.

He finally called three days later.

His voice was impossibly casual, as if he were asking about the weather.

"Hey. Sorry to hear about your brother."

A cold, hard knot tightened in my stomach.

"You chose a cat sanctuary over his life," I said, my voice flat.

He sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. "Elena, it was a good PR win. You have to think about the big picture."

I heard Dallas laugh in the background, a high, tinkling sound that made my skin crawl.

"Are we going ring shopping later, baby?" she cooed.

The last flickering ember of love I had for Killian died in that moment.

It just… went out.

The next day, I had my lawyer draw up the divorce papers. Killian had made me sign a prenup years ago, one that left me with next to nothing.

With a hand that didn’t shake, I signed my maiden name, Elena Ramos, and sent a picture of the document to the legal contact Josiah’s people had provided.

I just wanted to be done.

There were a few of Leo’s things left at the first, tiny apartment Killian and I had shared, back before the money and the power. I had to get them before they were lost forever.

As I approached the old building, my breath hitched in my throat. Killian’s black Maybach was parked right below our old window, a sleek predator in a forgotten part of the city.

My own feet carried me up the rickety stairs, my hand trembling as I fitted the old key I still kept on my ring into the lock.

The door creaked open, and I saw them.

Killian had Dallas pressed against the wall—the very wall where our first photo together used to hang. He was kissing her, his hands tangled in her blonde hair, with a passion I hadn't seen from him in years.

I froze, a statue carved from shadow in the hallway, unable to breathe.

"I bought the whole block," Killian murmured against her lips, his voice thick with possession. "I'm tearing it all down to build a new tower. The penthouse is yours."

He was erasing me. Erasing *us*.

He was literally tearing down our past to build a future for her.

Elena POV:

My foot caught on a loose strip of metal on the floor. The sharp clang echoed in the small apartment, and they sprang apart.

Killian turned, his eyes locking on me in the doorway. For a split second, I saw a flicker of something—concern, maybe even guilt—before it was swallowed by pure annoyance.

“Elena? What the hell are you doing here?”

Dallas stepped out from behind him, a sickly sweet smile stretched across her face. Her voice was pure performance.

“Oh, Elena. I am so, so sorry for… you know. High school. We were just kids.”

“Don't,” I bit out, the single word cutting through her act like a shard of glass.

Her face crumpled instantly. She turned and melted against Killian’s chest, her shoulders shaking with theatrical sobs.

“I was just trying to be nice.”

Killian’s arms wrapped around her protectively, his glare hardening as it landed on me.

“What is your problem? Just leave it alone.”

My mind flashed back to the high school locker room. Dallas and her friends had held me down, the cold, sharp point of a compass digging into the soft skin of my wrist as she had carved the word “Worthless” into my flesh. The scar was still there, a pale, jagged line I saw every single day.

I remembered Killian finding me crying in the library afterward. He had taken my hand, his thumb tracing the angry red mark, and had promised me, his voice a low growl, “One day, I'll ruin her for you, Elena. I swear it.”

Another beautiful, empty lie.

“Get in the car,” Killian commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Dallas chimed in, wiping away a non-existent tear. “Yes, let's all go together. We can be friends.”

She reached for my arm, her perfectly manicured nails sinking deliberately into the sensitive skin around my old scar.

Pain, sharp and familiar, shot up my arm. I flinched back on instinct, yanking away from her touch.

My recoil sent her stumbling backward. She went down with a dramatic gasp, collapsing onto the floor in a heap, and for all the world, it looked as if I had shoved her.

Elena POV:

Killian didn't hesitate. He was at Dallas’s side in an instant, his entire focus on her, effectively turning his back on me.

“Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

“I just startled her,” Dallas whimpered, her voice a masterful performance of trembling fragility. “I don't know why she's so angry.”

Killian’s fury ignited. He spun on me, his face twisting into a mask of cold rage. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’d attack her over some stupid high-school grudge?”

“She bullied me, Killian,” I tried to explain, my voice shaking. “She gave me this scar.” I thrust my wrist forward, but his gaze never left Dallas.

“That was years ago. Kids are cruel,” he dismissed, his tone laced with ice.

Dallas placed a delicate hand on his arm, a soft, manipulative gesture that only seemed to fuel his anger toward me.

My bag had fallen during the commotion, spilling its contents across the dusty floor. I dropped to my knees to scramble for the few mementos I had of Leo—a worn photograph, a small, lopsided clay bird he’d made for me in art class.

“Here, let me help,” Dallas said, her voice dripping with saccharine concern. She bent down, her fingers closing around the little clay bird.

And then she crushed it.

I watched, frozen, as the last thing Leo ever made for me crumbled into dust between her fingers.

A scream tore from my throat, a sound of pure grief and rage. I lunged at her, my vision blurred by tears.

Killian shoved me away.

Hard.

I stumbled backward, my wrist connecting with the hard edge of the doorframe with a sickening crack. Pain exploded up my arm.

He scoffed, looking down at the gray dust on the floor that had once been a bird. “It was a stupid bird, Elena. I'll buy you a hundred more.”

He didn't remember. He had completely forgotten that Leo made it for me.

That piece of clay was worth more than his entire empire, and he didn't even know it.