Chapter 95
Levi
The sun blazed through the curtains by the time I opened my eyes, the February sky clear and bright—a rare sight in New York this time of year. The soft, golden light poured over the room, almost too warm against the coolness of the walls. The chill still clung to the corners of the house, its bite familiar and harsh.
I groaned and glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen.
Today was going to be busy: work, then Dad, then Isabella.
I had arranged for a new car to be delivered to Isabella today. Part of me wondered if she’d even smile when she saw it—or if she’d give me one of those distant, almost vacant looks that drove me crazy in ways I didn’t want to admit.
I stood at the window, the cool morning air seeping through the cracks, biting at my skin as I looked out over the property. My house perched proudly on a low hill in Queens, bathed in that rare morning light. The grounds were secluded, and the few neighbors near enough to be nothing more than distant shapes in the landscape. Subtle security cameras covered every angle. I liked knowing who came and went.
This was my sanctuary.
My escape from the chaos of the city—and the people who thought they knew me.
I had just finished breakfast, the last dish drying on the rack, the faint scent of coffee still lingering in the air when the doorbell rang. A sharp, irritating sound that shattered the stillness. No one was supposed to come by.
A flicker of annoyance ran through me as I opened my laptop to check the security monitor.
Jenna.
There she stood, like a damn invitation to trouble. She wore a dress that left little to the imagination—so short it barely covered her thighs, plunging low enough in the front that I wondered why she bothered. Pathetic.
I wiped my hands on a towel, the fabric rough against my palms, squared my shoulders, and went to the door. I didn’t open it immediately. Instead, I stood there, watching her through the peephole, unmoved.
Finally, I cracked the door open just enough to see her face.
“Hey, let me in, will you?” she said, flashing a smile that once would’ve driven me to madness. Not anymore.
I didn’t speak. I stepped aside, letting her pass me. Her every movement was slow, deliberate, like she thought she could waltz back into my life with nothing more than a wink and a show of skin. The faint scent of her perfume hit me before she even spoke—sweet, cloying, the fragrance of something that used to mean something to me.
She had no idea how far gone I was.
I used to love the idea of her—loved how she looked on my arm, loved the status it gave me. But now? Now, she was just noise. A reminder of a mistake I’d already erased.
“Why did you come here?” I asked, my voice cutting through the thick silence of the foyer as I followed her.
This house wasn’t meant for visitors. Very few even knew it existed. And Jenna—of all people—was the last person I wanted crossing its threshold.
She turned to me, her eyes wide and falsely sweet. “I came to see how you’re doing,” she said, her voice smooth, like a blade wrapped in velvet.
I didn’t smile. I didn’t blink. I didn’t move.
“What are you trying to achieve?” I demanded, my voice low, sharp like glass. “Thought I’d kill myself if you cheated?”
The words hit like a fist, brutal but honest.
She had stopped the emails, stopped clawing at blocked numbers, stopped trying to get under my skin. Now, here she was—standing before me like a ghost I couldn’t shake.
I felt a flicker of pity—but it died before it could take root. I was done.
There was nothing about her that stirred me anymore. She was still beautiful. Undeniably. But to me, she was a shell. Her beauty was something I no longer had any interest in filling.
“I’m sorry, Levi,” she said, voice trembling. She moved closer, hands wringing in front of her like a guilty child. “I’m sorry for everything I did. I shouldn’t have—”
I held up a hand, cutting her off. Cold. Final.
“I’ve forgiven you,” I said, voice even, deadly. “We were engaged, not married. There’s nothing left for me to be angry about, Jenna.”
And there wasn’t.
I watched her closely, saw how her eyes searched mine, desperate for some flicker of hope.
She would find none.
If anything, I pitied myself—for ever thinking she could have been my wife.
“I don’t want you to break our engagement, Levi,” she said suddenly, almost pleading. “I love you. I still want to marry you.”
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