Chapter 9 – Breaking Point
The world felt like it had shrunk overnight.
The walls of the mansion, once so vast and endless, now pressed against me like they were trying to smother me. Every creak of the stairs, every hollow echo in the marble halls, only reminded me of how empty this place really was. My father's absence haunted every corner, and now Adrian's betrayal had dug its claws into me too.
At school, the whispers hadn't stopped—they'd only multiplied. That morning, I lasted through two classes before I couldn't take it anymore. The stares, the pitying looks, the giggles behind hands. I shoved my books into my bag and walked out. The teacher didn't stop me. Nobody ever did.
By the time I reached home, the mansion loomed like a stranger. I hated it—its cold perfection, its silence, its inability to give me anything but emptiness. I stormed through the front door, slammed it shut, and went straight upstairs.
I locked myself in my room and curled into bed without even changing out of my uniform.
The photo lay on my nightstand—the one of my father standing with Adrian's uncle. I hadn't moved it since that night, though every time my eyes landed on it, something inside me twisted until I could barely breathe.
I tried to sleep. I tried to cry. I tried to feel nothing. But nothing worked.
By evening, the sky outside my window had turned bruised purple, streaked with veins of fading sunlight. The world was moving on, as if nothing had happened. And I was stuck.
When the door creaked open a little after seven, I didn't lift my head. My mother stood there, framed in the doorway, her arms crossed as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted to come in or just keep walking.
"You left school early," she said flatly.
I didn't answer.
She sighed, stepping into the room. Her perfume, sharp and expensive, filled the air. She looked immaculate as always—her hair perfectly pinned, her blazer crisp, her nails painted. Not a single detail out of place, except for the tightness around her eyes that she tried so hard to hide.
"Laurence, I can't have you skipping classes. People will talk."
I laughed bitterly, the sound breaking in my throat. "They already talk, Mom. Don't you hear it? Don't you know what they say about me? About Dad?"
Her face hardened instantly. "I don't want to hear about your father."
The words hit like a slap. I sat up, my voice rising before I could stop it. "Of course you don't! You don't want to talk about him, you don't want to look for him, you don't even want to admit he's gone! You bury yourself in your stupid spa business like that's going to fix anything, while I—" My voice cracked, but I forced the words out. "While I'm drowning, Mom. I'm drowning, and you don't even notice."
For a second, something flickered in her eyes—pain, maybe. But then it was gone, replaced by the same cold steel she always carried.
"Crying won't bring him back," she said. "Clinging to the past won't help either. You need to stop living like a victim."
That broke me. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe. I shook my head slowly, tears burning down my cheeks. "You don't get it. You never get it."
Her jaw tightened, and without another word, she turned and walked out, closing the door firmly behind her.
The silence she left behind felt heavier than any words could have.
Hours passed. Darkness swallowed my room, broken only by the faint silver glow of moonlight through the curtains. I stayed curled in bed, numb and restless at the same time.
It was close to midnight when I heard it—three soft knocks against the glass balcony door.
My body stiffened.
Slowly, I turned my head.
Adrian stood there, drenched from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, his chest rising and falling like he'd run all the way here. His eyes locked on mine through the glass, filled with something desperate and raw.
I shot up, heart slamming against my ribs. "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, no, no."
He knocked again, firmer this time. "Laurence," his muffled voice carried through.
I pressed my hands to my ears, backing away. "Go away!" I hissed, though he couldn't hear me.
But he didn't move. He just stood there in the rain, soaked to the bone, his palm flat against the glass as if he could somehow reach me through it.
Against my will, I crossed the room and unlocked the door—but only cracked it open an inch. The rain swept in instantly, cool and sharp against my face.
"What are you doing here?" My voice shook with anger and something else I didn't want to name.
"I had to see you," he said, his voice hoarse. "You won't listen at school, you won't answer my calls—I couldn't just let it end like this."
"It already ended," I snapped. "You made sure of that."
His jaw clenched, rain dripping from his lashes. "I didn't lie to hurt you. I didn't even know how deep this went until I was in it with you. Laurence, please—" He stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of the door, his fingers almost touching mine. "I need you to believe me when I say I care. Whatever happened between our families, it doesn't change what's between us."
Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. "You think it's that easy? That you can just show up in the middle of the night, dripping wet and dramatic, and I'll fall into your arms like none of this happened?"
His face twisted, pain flickering across his features. "No. I don't expect that. I just—" His voice cracked. "I can't lose you, Laurence. Not like this."
My hand trembled on the door. For a moment, I wanted to pull him in, to let him hold me, to feel the safety I used to believe his touch gave me.
But the betrayal still burned too deep.
"Leave," I whispered. My voice was broken, but it was firm. "Please, Adrian. Just leave."
He searched my face for a long, aching second. Then, slowly, he nodded. His lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. He just backed away into the rain, his figure blurring as the storm swallowed him.
When he was gone, I slid down against the door, clutching my knees to my chest, sobs tearing out of me.
I don't know how long I sat there. Maybe minutes, maybe hours.
At some point, I dragged myself up, wiping my face with trembling hands. I needed to breathe. I needed to escape the suffocating emptiness.
I found myself wandering into my father's study again. The room smelled faintly of old leather and dust, untouched since the day he vanished.
The desk was as it always was, papers neatly stacked, a pen resting on top. But something caught my eye this time.
An envelope.
It wasn't there before—I was sure of it. Pale yellow, tucked just slightly beneath the edge of the lamp. My hands shook as I reached for it.
My name was written on the front in my father's handwriting.
Laurence.
The air caught in my throat. My knees nearly buckled as I tore the envelope open with trembling fingers. Inside was a single sheet of paper, the ink smudged but still legible.
It read:
If you're reading this, it means everything has begun. Trust no one—not even the ones you think you should. Especially not the Coles. I'll explain soon. Just stay safe. For me.
The page slipped from my fingers, fluttering onto the desk.
The Coles.
Adrian's family.
My chest heaved, my mind spinning. My father's warning and Adrian's desperate confession crashed together in my head, leaving me reeling.
The truth was out there. And somehow, I was right in the center of it.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure whether Adrian was the boy who would save me…
…or the one who would destroy me.