POV: Brielle
I'm halfway down the trellis when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket.
My father. Calling. Again.
I ignore it and drop the last few feet to the ground, landing hard on the grass. My suitcase thuds beside me. For a second, I just stand there in the dark garden, breathing hard, my whole body shaking.
This is real. I'm actually doing this.
I grab my suitcase and run toward the back gate, the one the gardeners use. The one nobody watches because who would ever try to escape from a mansion?
Me. That's who.
I'm almost to the gate when I hear them.
Voices. Male voices. Coming from the fountain area.
I freeze. My heart hammers against my ribs.
It's them. Thane, Cassian, and Dorian. And other men I don't recognize.
I should keep running. Get to the gate. Call a taxi. Disappear.
But something makes me stop. Maybe it's the way Thane's voice sounds different—colder than usual. Maybe it's because I need to know if what Izzy said is true.
Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment.
I move closer, staying in the shadows behind the rose hedge. Thorns catch on my dress, but I barely feel them.
"So which lucky lady gets the ring tomorrow?" one of the strangers asks. He sounds drunk. Amused. "Everyone's betting on the SaintClair princess."
My breath catches. They're betting on me. On my life. On my future.
There's a pause. A horrible, heavy silence.
Then Thane speaks, and his voice is ice: "If it weren't for my parents' pressure, I wouldn't even be entertaining this charade. Marrying Brielle is a business obligation, nothing more."
The world stops.
I actually feel it—like time freezes and I'm trapped in this one terrible moment forever.
Business obligation. Nothing more.
That's all I am to him. After everything. After all the years of friendship, of trust, of me stupidly hoping he might feel the same way I do.
I'm nothing. Just an obligation.
My hand flies to my mouth, holding back the sob threatening to escape. Tears blur my vision, but I can't look away. Can't move. Can't breathe.
"Exactly," Cassian says, and he sounds bitter. Angry, even. "We have people we actually want. She's just... the obligation we inherited from our families' friendship."
People they actually want.
Not me. Never me.
I've been so stupid. So incredibly, pathetically stupid.
All those moments I thought were special—Cassian calling me his muse, painting my portrait, looking at me like I was beautiful—they were lies. Or worse, they were just him being polite to his friend. His obligation.
The tears are falling now, silent and hot down my cheeks. I press my hand harder against my mouth because if I let the sob out, they'll hear me. They'll know I'm here, listening to them destroy me.
Then Dorian speaks.
Dorian. The gentle one. The one who held my hand when I was sick. The one I thought understood me.
His voice is quiet but firm: "I'd rather die than be forced into marriage with her. She's like a sister. The thought of anything romantic is... no. Just no."
Something inside me breaks.
Not cracks. Not bends. Breaks.
Like a mirror shattering into a thousand pieces that can never be put back together.
A sister. He sees me as a sister.
The strangers laugh—loud, cruel laughter that echoes through the garden.
"Well, someone's gotta take one for the team tomorrow," one of them jokes. "Those families won't accept anything less than an engagement."
"Maybe they should draw straws," another suggests, and they all laugh harder.
I can't take anymore. I turn and run.
Not toward the gate anymore. Back to the house. Up the servant's stairs so I don't have to see anyone. Into my room.
I lock the door and slide down against it, finally letting the sobs break free.
They tear out of me like they've been trapped inside for years. Ugly, gasping sobs that shake my whole body.
How could I be so blind? So stupid?
I thought they cared. I thought at least one of them might love me.
But they don't. They never did.
I'm just the girl their families expect them to marry. The princess in the tower they're all trying to avoid rescuing.
My phone buzzes. My father again.
Then my mother.
Then a group text from Thane: Where did you go? We're still having dessert.
I stare at the message. He has no idea. None of them do. They don't know I heard. They think I'm still the naive little princess who believes in fairy tales.
Well, that girl died tonight.
I stand up, wipe my face, and look at myself in the mirror.
My eyes are red and swollen. My makeup is ruined. I look like exactly what I am—a girl who just had her heart ripped out.
But underneath the tears, something else is building. Something hot and fierce.
Anger.
They don't get to do this. They don't get to treat me like I'm worthless and then pretend everything's fine.
I grab my suitcase—the one I already packed—and throw it on my bed. Add my laptop, my passport, the emergency credit card from my grandmother.
Fifty million dollars. Enough to disappear forever.
I write a new note, crumpling up the old one:
You wanted to be free of your obligation? Congratulations. You are.
I'm about to climb back out the window when my phone rings.
Izzy.
I almost don't answer. But she's the only real friend I have. The only person who isn't part of this nightmare.
"Hello?" My voice sounds destroyed.
"Oh my God, you heard them, didn't you?" Izzy sounds frantic. "Brielle, my cousin just told me more. Apparently Vivienne—you know, that girl who's always hanging around them?—she set the whole thing up. She got them drunk and started asking questions about the wedding, and—"
"Wait." I cut her off. "Vivienne was there?"
"Yes! She's been trying to break you guys up for years because she's obsessed with Thane. My cousin thinks she planned this whole thing to make sure you'd overhear—"
My door handle jiggles. Someone's trying to get in.
"Brielle?" Thane's voice. "Are you in there? Your parents are worried."
I freeze, phone pressed to my ear, staring at the door.
"Brielle?" Izzy whispers. "Are you okay?"
I watch the door handle turn again. Any second now, he'll get security to unlock it. They'll find me with my packed suitcase and the note. They'll stop me from leaving.
And tomorrow, one of them will propose because their families demand it. Not because they want to. Because they have to.
And I'll be trapped forever with someone who sees me as an obligation.
No. Not happening.
I make a decision in that split second—one that will change everything.
"Izzy," I whisper. "I need you to do something for me. Something crazy."
"Anything."
"I need you to cause a distraction. Right now. Get my parents away from my room. I don't care how. Just do it."
"What are you going to do?"
I grab my suitcase and head for the window. "Something I should have done a long time ago."
"Brielle!" Thane's voice is louder now. More worried. "Please open the door. Let's talk."
Talk. Right. Like talking will fix the fact that he'd rather die than marry me.
"Going," I whisper to Izzy.
I hang up, turn off my phone completely, and climb onto the window ledge.
Below me is a twenty-foot drop to the garden. Above me is a life I don't want anymore.
I hear a crash from downstairs—Izzy must have done something. Perfect.
"What was that?" Thane's voice moves away from my door. "Brielle, stay there, I'll be right back!"
I don't wait. I grab the trellis and start climbing down.
My hands shake. My vision blurs with tears. But I don't stop.
When my feet hit the ground, I run.
Past the fountain where they destroyed me. Past the rose garden where I used to dream about dancing with one of them at my wedding. Past every memory of this place that now feels like poison.
I reach the back gate, punch in the code with trembling fingers, and burst through onto the street.
A taxi is waiting—Izzy must have called it.
I throw my suitcase in and climb inside.
"Where to?" the driver asks.
I take one last look at the mansion. At the lights in the windows. At the life I'm leaving behind.
Then I see movement. A figure running toward the gate.
Thane. He found my note. He's coming after me.
"Airport," I tell the driver. "Now. And there's an extra hundred dollars if you drive fast."
The taxi pulls away just as Thane reaches the gate.
Through the back window, I see him standing there, my note crumpled in his hand, his face white with shock.
Good. Let him panic. Let them all panic.
By the time they figure out where I went, I'll be gone.
And Brielle SaintClair?
She'll be nothing but a memory.