Chapter 4

Karina:

The house was quiet as I zipped up the last bag and set it on the bed. My hands hovered over the suitcase, trembling slightly. Four years. That’s how long I had lived here, pouring myself into a life that, in hindsight, was nothing more than an illusion.

I glanced around the room, my gaze skimming over the photos on the dresser—most of them were of me. There weren’t many of us together, and those that did exist seemed hollow now, like props in a play I’d been cast in without knowing the script.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, exhaling deeply. My eyes drifted to the corner of the room where a single rose sat on a lone vase. He had bought that for me when he returned late from his office three days ago, claiming he had to work late. That was always his excuse. “For us,” he’d say, as if I should be grateful for the breadcrumbs of attention he occasionally threw my way. But now I knew better. Now I knew the truth.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand broke the silence. I picked it up, glancing at the name on the screen. It was Alyssa, my best friend and the only person who’d warned me from the beginning that Ethan wasn’t who I thought he was.

“You done packing?” she asked when I answered.

“Almost,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “Just sitting here, trying to… process.”

She let out a scoff. “Process what? The fact that he’s a lying, manipulative jerk? Karina, he kept you hidden like some sort of backup plan while he pined for his ex. You deserve so much better.”

“I know,” I whispered, though the words felt heavy in my throat. “It’s just… I wanted to believe him, you know? I wanted to believe that he loved me. That he cared.”

“Love doesn’t look like that,” Alyssa said firmly. “Love isn’t keeping you a secret or making excuses. It’s showing up, Karina. And Ethan never showed up.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. She was right, of course. Ethan had always had an excuse. Always too busy, too distracted. No dinners out, no spontaneous adventures. He had kept me tucked away in this house, telling me it was for our privacy, for our future. But now I realized it wasn’t about privacy—it was about Katherine.

The name made my stomach churn. Katherine. His first love. The one who had gone abroad for a prestigious university and left Ethan behind. He hadn’t told me about her at first, but I’d pieced it together over the years—little comments, old photos tucked in drawers, and the way his face would light up whenever someone mentioned her name. It all made sense now.

“Karina?” Alyssa’s voice pulled me back.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let him twist this around. When he comes back and finds out you’re gone, he’ll try. Guys like him always do. He’ll act like he’s the victim, like you’re overreacting. Don’t fall for it.”

“I won’t.” I tried to sound confident, but my voice wavered. “I’m done, Alyssa. I mean it.”

She sighed, softening. “Good. And when you’re ready, we’ll have a girls’ night. You’re free now, Karina. This is the start of something better.”

After we hung up, I stood and walked over to the dresser, picking up one of the few photos of Ethan and me. I stared at it for a moment before slipping it out of the frame.

And then I tore it up and threw it into the trash…just like he had done to our relationship in a matter of seconds.

The quiet of the room felt suffocating as if the walls were closing in on me. I turned to the bedside table where the ring sat, gleaming mockingly in the dim light. That stupid inscription—*Kitty*. It used to make me smile, thinking it was his endearing nickname for me. Now, it felt like a mark of ownership, a scar I was desperate to erase.

I picked it up one last time, rolling the cold band between my fingers. The weight of it seemed heavier than ever, dragging me down with memories of all the times Ethan had called me *Kitty* with a smirk like I was his little pet, his plaything to keep in a cage. My stomach churned. Without a second thought, I dropped it into the drawer, shut it with a decisive click, and stepped away.

My suitcase felt lighter in my grip as I walked out of the room, down the wide staircase, and through the foyer of the mansion I’d called home for four years. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. The house wasn’t home anymore; it was a mausoleum of false promises and wasted love.

The crisp evening air hit me as I stepped outside, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe. The wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, the tall hedges framing them like sentinels guarding a life I no longer wanted. I dragged my suitcase over the gravel driveway and stopped just outside the gates, leaning against the stone pillar as I pulled out my phone to text my mom.

**“I’m outside. Let me know when you’re close.”**

Her reply came almost instantly. **“Almost there. Stay put.”**

I sighed and shoved the phone back into my pocket, crossing my arms against the chill. The sky was jet black, lined with a array of dazzling stars. Cars occasionally passed on the road, their headlights briefly illuminating the shadows around me. I wished one of them was my mom’s old rover, but I knew she’d be taking her time—always careful, always cautious. 

A faint hum of an engine pulled my attention as it drove in my direction, but this car wasn’t her. It was sleek, black, and looked more like a Porsche than a rover. The vehicle slowed as it approached, and my heart sank when it turned into the driveway, stopping just inside the gates. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a face I hadn’t seen in years.

Michael Hudson.