Ellie POV

I retreated to Montauk to heal.

The salt air was supposed to be a balm for wounds, both visible and invisible. I rented a small cottage far away from the glittering Hamptons crowd, spending my days limping along the beach with my cane, trying to remember who I was before I became Marcus Thorne's doormat.

I didn't expect him to find me.

I was walking near the cliffs, the wind tearing at my coat, when a black Range Rover slowed to a halt beside me. Marcus stepped out.

He looked tired. Haggard, even.

Good.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. I didn't stop walking.

"We need to talk, Ellie. You can't just disappear."

"I signed the papers, Marcus. There is nothing to talk about."

He grabbed my arm.

I flinched.

He let go instantly, looking guilty for a fleeting second.

"Izzy is worried about you," he said.

I laughed. It was a bitter sound that was snatched away by the gale. "Izzy is worried I might actually survive."

"Don't be like that. She feels terrible about the elevator."

I stared at him. He actually believed it. He was so deep in her web he couldn't see the spider eating him alive.

"Go home, Marcus. Go to your girlfriend."

Just then, another car pulled up. A red convertible.

Izzy.

She emerged, looking like she was dressed for a Vogue shoot, not a windy cliffside in October.

"Marcus!" she called out. "I brought you coffee."

She ran over, hooking her arm through his possessively. She looked at me with mock concern. "Oh, Ellie. You look... rough. That cane. Poor thing."

I gripped the handle of my cane until my knuckles turned white. "Leave me alone."

I turned to walk away, closer to the edge of the trail where the lake gathered dark and deep below. The ground was muddy from last night's rain.

Izzy followed me.

"Ellie, wait. We just want to make sure you're stable. You know, mentally."

She stepped closer. Too close.

Marcus was looking at his phone, distracted.

Izzy leaned in. Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

"You're making this difficult. Just die already."

She shoved me.

It wasn't a hard shove, but the ground was slick, and my bad leg gave way. I stumbled back, my arms windmilling uselessly.

Izzy screamed. Not a scream of fear, but a performance.

She threw herself to the ground. "Marcus! She hit me!"

Marcus’s head snapped up. He saw Izzy on the ground. He saw me standing over her, trying to regain my balance.

He didn't ask questions. He saw red.

He lunged at me.

He didn't mean to push me off the edge. I knew that, logically. He meant to shove me away from his precious Izzy.

But he shoved hard.

My cane slipped in the mud. I fell backward. The sky spun violently above me.

I hit the water hard.

The cold was a shock to my system. It paralyzed me. My heavy coat instantly became an anchor, dragging me down. My injured leg was useless.

I thrashed, gasping for air, swallowing freezing lake water.

I surfaced, coughing. "Marcus!"

He was standing on the edge of the bank. He wasn't reaching for me. He was helping Izzy up, checking her for invisible injuries.

"Help!" I screamed.

He looked at me. His eyes were cold.

"Stay away from her, Ellie!" he shouted. "You're insane!"

He wasn't coming.

I went under again. The water was dark and murky. My lungs burned.

I thought about fighting. I thought about swimming. But my body was so tired.

I saw a red cloud in the water. My blood. I must have hit a rock.

I floated there, suspended in the cold silence.

This is it, I thought. This is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with my husband watching me drown to protect the woman who pushed me.

I kicked one last time, breaking the surface.

Marcus was walking Izzy back to the car.

He stopped and looked back.

"You best kill this heart of yours, Ellie," he shouted over the wind. "Or I won't let you go."

He turned his back.

I sank.

The darkness welcomed me. It was kinder than he ever was.

Ellie POV

I didn't die.

I woke up retching, coughing up river water, my body sprawled on the muddy bank. Someone was pounding on my chest.

"Breathe! Dammit, Ellie, breathe!"

It wasn't Marcus.

It was Julian.

He was soaked to the bone, his expensive suit ruined, the fabric clinging to his skin. His hair was plastered to his forehead. When I opened my eyes, he slumped back, letting out a ragged sob.

"Oh God," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I thought I was too late."

I rolled onto my side, vomiting more lake water. My whole body shook violently, convulsing with the aftershocks of drowning.

Behind Julian, I heard shouting.

"You pushed her!" Julian roared, surging to his feet and turning toward the trail.

Marcus was there. He looked stunned. He hadn't left yet. He had watched me go under, and he had hesitated.

"She attacked Izzy!" Marcus yelled back, but his voice wavered. "She's unstable, Julian!"

Julian didn't waste breath talking. He moved.

He crossed the distance between them in three long strides and punched Marcus in the jaw.

It was a brutal, sickening sound, bone cracking against bone. Marcus stumbled back, blood spurting from his lip.

"You left her to die!" Julian screamed. He hit him again. "You son of a bitch!"

Marcus fought back. They rolled in the mud, trading blows. It was primal. It was ugly.

"Stop!" I rasped. My throat felt like it was full of shattered glass. "Stop it!"

Julian had Marcus pinned. His fist was raised for another strike. He looked back at me. He saw my terror.

Slowly, he dropped his hand. He stood up, breathing hard, and walked back to me. He picked me up as if I weighed nothing.

Marcus scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth.

"Take her," he spat, his eyes wild. "I don't care. Just keep her away from Izzy. Izzy is my line in the sand, Julian. Anyone who crosses her gets destroyed."

I shivered uncontrollably in Julian's arms.

I looked at Marcus. He was a stranger. The man I had loved was nothing but a hallucination. This man—this cruel, paranoid, blinded man—was reality.

"You're pathetic," Julian said, his voice cold as ice. "You shattered a diamond to protect a piece of cheap glass."

"She's a burden!" Marcus shouted, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She's been dragging me down for years with her neediness. I'm done!"

I closed my eyes. Every word was a bullet.

Julian carried me to his car. He placed me in the passenger seat and wrapped a dry blanket around me.

He leaned in, his forehead touching mine. "I've got you," he whispered. "I promise."

He walked around to the driver's side.

Marcus was standing by his Rover, watching us. He looked... lost. For a second, the anger faded, replaced by confusion.

"Wait," I said.

I rolled down the window.

My voice was weak, but it didn't tremble.

"Marcus."

He looked at me.

"We are done, Marcus. I won't bother you again. You can have her. You deserve each other."

I rolled the window up.

Julian started the car. As we drove away, I watched Marcus in the side mirror. He stood alone in the mud, the gray sky pressing down on him.

He looked small.

I turned my head and looked at the road ahead. The rain was stopping. A thin sliver of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the wet asphalt.

I was battered. I was bruised. I was bleeding.

But I was alive.

And for the first time in a long time, the road ahead didn't lead back to him. It led somewhere new.

It led to me.

Ellie POV

Maine offered a specific kind of silence. It was the kind of quiet that didn't ask anything of me.

I sat on the porch of the rental cottage, a thick wool blanket draped around my shoulders. The ocean was a slate gray, battering the rocks below. It looked angry, but from here, it was just a picture behind glass.

The sliding door hissed open. Julian stepped out, balancing two mugs of coffee. Steam rose from them, ghosting into the cold air.

He didn't say anything at first. He just handed me a mug and perched on the railing opposite me.

"How are the ribs?" he asked.

"Better," I said. "The bruising is fading to yellow."

"And the head?"

"Still attached."

He smiled. It was a small, guarded thing. Julian had been hovering like a sentinel for the last week. He had driven me here, stocked the fridge, and seemingly taken a leave of absence from his own life just to make sure I didn't drown in mine.

"You don't have to stay, Julian," I said, blowing on my coffee. "I'm not going to walk into the ocean."

"I know," he said. "I'm staying because the coffee here is better than in the city."

"Liar."

He took a sip. "Okay. I'm staying because I don't trust you not to starve yourself."

I looked down at the dark liquid in my cup. I had lost weight. My rings—if I were still wearing them—would have slipped right off my knuckle.

"I'm eating," I said.

"Toast doesn't count as a meal, Ellie."

We sat in silence for a while. It wasn't uncomfortable. Julian was the only person who didn't look at me with pity. He looked at me with expectation. He expected me to survive this.

My phone buzzed on the small wooden table between us, vibrating like an angry hornet.

I stared at it. I had changed my number, but Chloe had it. She was the leak in my submarine, letting the water of my old life drip in.

"It's Chloe," I said.

"You don't have to answer," Julian said.

I picked it up. If I didn't answer, she would call the local police. Chloe's love was a battering ram.

"Hey," I said.

"Ellie!" Chloe’s voice was breathless. "Are you sitting down?"

"I am."

"Don't freak out. Okay? Promise me you won't freak out."

"Chloe, just say it."

"It's Marcus. And Izzy."

My hand tightened around the phone. I felt a phantom pain in my ankle, right where the elevator debris had pinned me.

"What about them?" I asked. My voice sounded flat, even to my own ears.

"They're engaged," Chloe said. "It's all over Page Six. It's... Ellie, it's disgusting."

I looked out at the ocean. Engaged. Of course. It had been less than a month since the elevator accident. Less than a month since he left me bleeding on the floor to carry her out.

"Tell me," I said.

"You don't want to know the details."

"Tell me."

Chloe sighed. "It was huge. He rented out the botanical gardens in Brooklyn. You know, the one with the rare orchids?"

I knew it. I had begged Marcus to go there with me for our first anniversary. He said he hated humidity.

"He filled the place with white lilies," Chloe continued. "And he hired a private cellist to play that song... the one she likes."

*Clair de Lune*. Izzy loved *Clair de Lune*.

"And the ring?" I asked.

Chloe hesitated. "It’s a yellow diamond. Massive. And... he gave her a Chanel bag. A vintage one. Apparently, it was a 'just because' gift before the proposal."

I closed my eyes.

Rare orchids. Private concerts. Vintage Chanel.

It wasn't just a proposal. It was a performance.

I remembered the bet. The nine times. Izzy had set the terms, and Marcus had followed the script perfectly. Every time he chose her, he was putting a coin in her slot machine. And now, she had hit the jackpot.

He didn't just leave me. He erased me.

I was the intermission. I was the commercial break between the episodes of the Izzy and Marcus show.

"Ellie?" Chloe asked. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have told you."

"No. I needed to hear it."

There was a pause on the line. I could hear the traffic of New York in the background. It sounded like a different planet.

"There's one more thing," Chloe said. Her voice dropped an octave.

"What?"

"The NYU Alumni Gala is this weekend."

I laughed. It was a dry, cracking sound. "So? I'm not going."

"Everyone is going to be there, Ellie. Marcus. Izzy. They're going to parade around like royalty."

"Good for them."

"If you don't go," Chloe said, her voice hardening, "they win. They get to tell the story. They get to say you're crazy, that you ran away, that you're broken."

"I am broken, Chloe."

"No. You're injured. There's a difference."

I looked at Julian. He was watching me closely, his gray eyes unreadable. He knew who I was talking to. He knew what was happening.

"They sent an invite to your old email," Chloe said. "I forwarded it to your new one. Just... think about it."

I hung up.

The silence of Maine suddenly felt heavy. It felt like hiding.

"Bad news?" Julian asked.

"They're engaged," I said.

He didn't look surprised. He nodded slowly. "Fast work."

"He bought her orchids," I said. "He hates flowers."

"He hates flowers for *you*," Julian corrected.

The words stung, but they were true. Marcus didn't lack the capacity for romance. He just lacked the desire to waste it on me.

I felt a strange sensation in my chest. It wasn't heartbreak. It was anger. A cold, hard knot of anger.

I had spent three years trying to be the perfect wife. I had made myself small so he would have more room. I had swallowed my pride until I choked on it.

And for what? To be the villain in their love story?

I opened my email on my phone. There it was. The invitation. Gold script on a cream background.

*You are cordially invited...*

It was at the Pierre Hotel. The same place where Izzy had staged her fall. The scene of the crime.

I looked at Julian.

"Chloe wants me to go to the Alumni Gala this weekend," I said.

Julian set his coffee down. "Do you want to go?"

"No," I said immediately.

"Then don't."

"But if I don't go," I said, staring at the screen, "I'm just the ex-wife who disappeared. I'm the cautionary tale."

"Does it matter what they think?"

"Yes," I whispered. "It matters to me."

I didn't want to hide in Maine forever. I didn't want to be the victim. I wanted to look them in the eye. I wanted to see the happiness Marcus had bought with my misery.

I wanted to make sure it was real. Because if it was real, then I could finally, truly, let go.

I stood up. The blanket fell from my shoulders.

"I'm going," I said.

Julian looked at me. He didn't try to talk me out of it. He didn't tell me it was a bad idea, even though we both knew it probably was.

"Okay," he said.

He stood up and walked over to me. He reached out and fixed the collar of my sweater.

"If you're going," he said, "you're not going alone."

I looked down at the invitation in my hand. My grip tightened until the edges of the phone dug into my palm.

This wasn't a party. It was a funeral for my past. And I intended to be the best-dressed mourner there.

I tapped 'Accept'.