Chapter 8

My leg was broken.

I woke up in the hospital to find Rowan sitting at my bedside. He was gripping my hand, heavy dark circles shadowing his eyes.

My heart ached at the sight of him.

He stirred, his lashes fluttering as he woke and immediately checked on me. "Clara, how do you feel?"

My leg was encased in a heavy, immobile cast. I forced a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Rowan."

He frowned. The sadness in his eyes, accented by the small mole near his lash line, made him look almost heartbreakingly pitiful.

I let out a soft laugh and reached over to pat his head. "It really doesn't hurt anymore."

"What about Julian?"

Rowan's expression immediately darkened. "You're actually still thinking about that monster after what he did to you?"

When I didn't answer, he let out a bitter scoff. "He's at a checkup with his girlfriend."

His gaze softened, turning desperate. "Clara, just forget him. Come with me. I promise I'll protect you."

He hooked his pinky finger around mine, swinging our hands gently.

Meeting his pleading gaze, I gave a small nod. "Okay."

A bright smile broke across his face, and he picked up an apple, diligently peeling it for me.

Guilt gnawed at my chest.

*I'm sorry, Rowan,* I thought. *I lied.*

On that starless night, I had already decided to finally break my chains.

I told Rowan that I wanted to see the ocean one last time.

He wheeled me down to the coastline. The salty wind caught the hem of my white skirt, lifting it in the breeze. Before us, the dark water stretched out endlessly, while the heavy gray sky above hinted at an approaching storm.

I gazed calmly out at the rolling waves. "Rowan, the butterfly can never cross the ocean. That story was always meant to be a tragedy."

At another family dinner, Julian had Mrs. Jenkins set a separate table just for me.

Without my presence, the main dining table was lively and full of warmth. Chloe rested a hand on her pregnant belly, shooting me a provocative glance.

"Julian, the baby's kicking," she cooed. "I think it wants some of that shrimp bisque."

Julian, who had been unusually quiet all evening, dutifully served her a bowl.

"Since Chloe is pregnant, we should move up the wedding," Mr. Sterling declared.

Julian looked sullen. "Dad, let's wait a bit."

Mother shot a sharp glance in my direction. "You might be able to wait, but her belly certainly can't."

I picked up a piece of tofu from my solitary table, watching its surface gleam under the dining room lights. I ate it slowly, set down my fork, and offered a silent smile.

Julian's sins, my endless pain—all of it had been swept under the rug as if it meant absolutely nothing.

But my heart no longer hurt.

Suddenly, Chloe clutched her stomach and let out a sharp groan of pain.

Julian shot up from his chair, frantically reaching for his phone, but instead, he violently spat a mouthful of blood onto the table.

"Dad..." he gasped out. But Mr. Sterling and Mother had already collapsed to the floor, violently vomiting blood.

Mrs. Jenkins let out a piercing scream, scrambling alongside Mr. Higgins to dial 911.

I loomed over them, splashing the hot bisque onto their faces and watching their skin scald.

"Mr. Sterling, Mother," I murmured, "what a shame. It looks like this will be our last family dinner."

Julian’s eyes fluttered as he stared up at me, desperately struggling to speak through the blood.

I watched them writhe on the floor like maggots, laughing so hard that tears finally spilled down my cheeks. Their blood mingled on the floor, spreading out into a vivid, grotesque painting.

The sight reminded me of a painting Rowan had once made for me. He had tried to hide it out of shyness, but I had caught a glimpse of it—a girl in a white dress, sleeping peacefully on a golden beach beneath the warm sunlight.

A sudden, sharp pain hit my chest, and I coughed up my own mouthful of blood before collapsing.

As my eyes slowly fluttered shut, a final thought drifted through my mind.

*I guess I'll never get to see that warm sun again.*