Chapter 2

I sat on the living room couch. On the coffee table in front of me was a pot of freshly brewed coffee. The rich aroma curled up through the air.

The doorbell rang. I didn't move. A few seconds later, the door opened with a key. Emerson and Olivia came in, one after the other.

They were both tanned, their faces showing the weariness of travel, and a hint of intimacy they couldn't quite hide. Olivia's hand was still instinctively holding onto Emerson's arm.

When she saw me, she let go as if she'd been shocked. Things got a little awkward.

Emerson set his suitcase aside, rubbed his hands together, and came up to me. He hesitated, avoiding my gaze. "Violet, we're back."

I looked up at him and gave a small smile. "Yeah, I see."

My calmness seemed to surprise them. They probably thought I'd break down, cry, throw a fit, and demand answers. But they never expected me to be this calm. I was so calm, it was as if I were looking at two strangers.

Olivia was the first to crack. She walked over with an ingratiating smile, trying to put her hand on my shoulder. I leaned away, dodging her touch. Her hand hung awkwardly in the air, and her smile froze on her face.

"Violet, please don't be like this. We—" Olivia tried to explain, but I didn't give her the chance.

I looked at Emerson. "Did you two have fun? These past twelve days?"

Emerson's face flushed bright red. "Violet, let me explain. The signal was terrible out there, and then some unexpected stuff happened, so that's why we were late." His excuse sounded flimsy.

I smiled, "Really? I saw you posting on social media all the time. Doesn't look like you had any trouble with the signal."

Emerson's face drained of color.

Olivia stepped in front of Emerson, acting like she was ready to take the fall for everything. She put her hand on my shoulder, and this time, I didn't move away.

She said, "Violet, don't blame Emerson. It's all my fault. I was the one who dragged him along and wouldn't let him come back. Relax, I brought your man back safe and sound."

She said it so boldly, like she'd borrowed something and was now returning it. As if I should be grateful she handed him back to me, like he was some loaned property.

I looked at her and finally laughed out loud, so hard I almost cried. They both stared at me, completely lost, exchanging confused glances.

I finally stopped laughing, then reached into the coffee table drawer and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a massive ring.

Emerson had bought it at an auction not long ago, planning to use it for his proposal. It cost him nearly 1 million dollars.

I picked up the ring and spun it between my fingers. The diamond's glare was so sharp, it felt like it cut right through Emerson and Olivia, stinging them more than their eyes.

Then I grabbed Olivia's hand. With both of them staring at me in shock, I dropped the cold ring right into her warm palm, making sure she felt every ounce of its weight.

"Sorry, I'm not in the business of taking back trash," I said quietly, but my words hit them loud and clear.

Olivia's hand trembled, and the ring almost slipped to the floor. She snapped her head up, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "Violet, what do you mean?"

Emerson finally snapped out of it and rushed over, trying to grab my hand. "Violet, are you crazy? Do you know what you're saying?"

I shook off his hand and stood up. I was taller than Olivia, looking down at her. "Isn't it obvious? Since you love picking up my leftovers so much, you can have him, too, no charge. May you two have a long, happy life together."

With that, I turned my back on them and walked straight to the door, grabbing the suitcase I'd packed earlier.

Just then, a shrill scream rang out behind them. Helen had shown up at some point and was now standing in the doorway, having heard every word of our conversation.

She stormed in. "Violet, you bitch. How dare you do this to my son? Who do you think you are? Marrying into the Goodman family is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

"You want to break up? Fine. But you'd better hand back every penny of that 150 thousand and this house, right now."

Her face was twisted with rage. Emerson and Olivia were both stunned, clearly not expecting Helen to show up out of nowhere.

I looked at Helen, who was practically fuming, and smiled. "Helen, don't get worked up. I've already got everything ready when it comes to the money."

I pulled a document out of my bag and slapped it down on the coffee table. "Here's every single bill from the last three years, everything Emerson spent, everything he used, and every debt I covered for him. Total? 400 thousand dollars.

"And this house? The down payment was 1 million dollars. My parents put in 600 thousand dollars, I put in 25 thousand dollars, and Emerson only put in 15 thousand dollars.

"The 300 thousand dollars renovation? I paid for all of it. I've got copies of every single transfer. See you in court."

Helen's yelling stopped dead. She stared at the document, her face draining of color until she looked completely pale.

Emerson rushed over, grabbed the document, and flipped through it in a panic. His hands started shaking uncontrollably. Olivia stood there, completely stunned.

I grabbed my suitcase, headed for the door, and gave them one last look. The three of them were like characters in a ridiculous farce.

I said, real quiet, "Oh, almost forgot to mention. Those cozy pics you took in Jelasburg? I already sent them to all our friends. Don't mention it."

With that, I swung the door open and walked out without a backward glance. Behind me, Helen was screaming her lungs out.

I dragged my suitcase into the elevator. The metal doors slowly closed, shutting out the dramatic scene behind me.

The polished elevator mirror showed a face with no tears, no anger, and barely any expression at all, only a deep, unnerving calm.

I felt like I had just won a war that had lasted forever; my body was weary, but my spirit had never felt lighter.

Stepping out of the gate, the afternoon sun felt soft and warm on my skin. I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the name of a five-star hotel downtown.

The driver shot me a look in the rearview mirror, like he wanted to ask something but thought better of it. I knew what was on his mind.

A young woman with a suitcase, no expression, heading to a hotel, that was rarely the beginning of a good story. But for me, this was the start of something new.

The scenery outside the car window whizzed by. All those familiar streets and shops looked like leftovers from a bygone age, as if they belonged to a different century.

My phone started going wild. I didn't need to check to know it was Emerson, Helen, or Olivia calling. I didn't pick up, but I didn't reject the call either. I let it vibrate.

When I got to the hotel, I booked the executive suite with a panoramic view. I swiped my card and stepped inside.

Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkled with life. I set my suitcase aside, switched my phone to silent, and tossed it onto the plush bed.

Then I headed to the bathroom, filled the tub with steaming hot water, and added a few drops of essential oil. The rising steam carried a calming fragrance.

I sank into the water, letting the warmth wrap around me and wash away every last bit of exhaustion.

For the past three years, I'd been spinning nonstop, worrying about Emerson's career, smoothing things over for him, and putting on a brave face for his difficult mom.

I'd forgotten I used to be my parents' little princess. I'd forgotten I once had dreams and light in my life.

I closed my eyes, and it felt like I could almost hear the shackles I'd carried for so long cracking, inch by inch.

Half an hour later, I walked out in my bathrobe and grabbed my phone. The screen was blown up with dozens of missed calls and hundreds of unread messages.

Our group chat with hundreds of mutual friends was exploding. The photos I sent were like a bomb going off in the middle of everything. At first, everyone was freaking out and confused.

[What the hell is happening? Is this photoshopped?]

[Why is Emerson with Olivia? Where's Violet? Weren't they about to get married?]

Then people started to realize the photos were legit.

[This isn't edited, I zoomed in and there's no sign of Photoshop.]

[Olivia posted some pics on her own feed, not this super spicy one.]

The rumors started spreading like wildfire.

[Oh my god, you can't trust anyone, not your best friend. This is disgusting.]

[Didn't Olivia always claim she was single? Turns out she was waiting for her bestie's fiancé?]

[Emerson's no angel either, talking marriage with Violet while sneaking around with her best friend.]

Of course, there were a few voices trying to calm things down. Some of Emerson's buddies tried to cover for him.

[Maybe it's a misunderstanding? Don't jump to conclusions.]

[Yeah, maybe Violet agreed to it? Weren't the three of them always close?]

Seeing that, I couldn't help but laugh. Agreed? Yeah, I agreed. I agreed to let them go, and I agreed to let them walk right out of my life.

Olivia, probably fed up with all the tags, finally popped up in the group chat. [Emerson and I are totally innocent. It was a trip with friends. Some of the photos are taken at bad angles. Please don't misunderstand Violet.]

She tried to paint herself as spotless, and at the same time, tossed dirt my way, implying I was being dramatic and misreading the situation. What a saintly act. Too bad nobody bought her performance.

People immediately shot back. [Innocent? Then what about that hug in the photos?]

[Yeah, borrowing her fiancé right in front of her, taking off for twelve days, and posting those suggestive pics on social media. That's innocent?]

Olivia didn't say another word. She probably logged off.

Then Helen, using Emerson's account, dropped a long, venomous voice message in the group chat. Her tone was shrill and dripping with spite.

"Violet, you nasty piece of work. What did our family ever do to you? We bought you a house, a car, and gave you a hundred and fifty thousand. And now you're out there dragging my son's name through the mud.

"You can't even keep your own man in line, and you have the nerve to blame someone else. I see it now. You planned this all along, trying to steal what's ours. I'm not done with you."

That message was pure chaos fuel. The whole group chat froze for a second, then blew up like a bomb had gone off. Nobody expected things to go down like this.

I didn't bother replying. I knew anything I said now would be pointless. I left that chaotic mess of a group chat.

Then I opened the family group chat with my parents.

Mom: [Sweetheart, did you get to the hotel? Are you settled in?]

Dad: [Do you have enough money? If not, let me know.]

Mom: [Don't be scared. As long as your dad and I are here, nothing can bring you down.]

I stared at the screen, and for the first time, my eyes started to sting. I replied: [Dad, Mom, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.]

I set my phone down and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Night was falling, and the city lights were starting to glow. The city keeps moving, no matter whose heart breaks or whose dreams come true.

My phone lit up again. Emerson had sent me a long message, no insults, no accusations, only pages of humble apologies and desperate begging.