Chapter 3

I stayed in the manor study past midnight, shoving the last of my financial ledgers into a cardboard box. The heavy oak doors slammed open. Arthur stood in the frame. His tailored suit was wrinkled, his hair plastered to his forehead with cold sweat.

He stormed toward the mahogany desk, tearing frantically through the drawers. "Where are the bearer bonds? The shipping manifests!" He slammed a drawer shut and pointed a shaking finger at me. "You froze the joint accounts! You vindictive bitch, you're ruining me!"

I gripped the edge of the desk. "You ruined yourself the second you put my crown on your whore's head."

A third scale ripped free from my ribs. I doubled over. The tearing sensation dragged a jagged breath from my lungs. The heat flared, burned through my veins, and died. I straightened up. I looked at the man sweating in front of me. The memory of his hands shaking as he unbuttoned my dress on our wedding night vanished. The phantom warmth of his skin evaporated.

He was just a sweaty, desperate stranger in a ruined suit.

The air in the study dropped ten degrees. The crushing pressure of the ocean trench flooded the room. The shadows in the corners lengthened, creeping up the walls like dark water.

Arthur choked on a breath. He stumbled back, clutching his throat as the invisible weight bore down on his chest.

"Mr. Arthur," I said. My voice echoed, layered with the unnatural, vibrating resonance of the deep. "This is no longer your home."

I flicked my wrist. Every crystal decanter, every glass ornament, and the grand chandelier above us exploded. A shower of sharp glass rained down on the Persian rug.

Arthur screamed, shielding his face. He scrambled out of the study and collapsed in the grand hallway. I walked past the debris, my heels crunching on broken glass.

He scrambled forward and grabbed my ankle. "Elara, wait! Please!" He yanked a crumpled photograph from his breast pocket. His hands shook violently as he held it up. It was a picture of us, smiling on a sunlit deck. "Look at us. Elara, remember who we are! We built this together. You can't just throw it away!"

I stared at the glossy paper. I stared at the girl with the bright eyes and the flushed cheeks. I felt absolutely nothing.

"I don't know the woman in this photo," I said, kicking my foot free. "That's not me."

I stepped over his kneeling body and walked up the grand staircase. His pathetic sobs echoed off the marble walls, mingling with the relentless ringing of his cell phone.

I locked the master bedroom door behind me. A fourth scale tore loose. The pain was a brief, sharp sting. Our honeymoon—the taste of cheap wine in that coastal tavern, the sunburn on his shoulders—wiped clean.

I exhaled. A massive, suffocating weight lifted off my spine. I walked to the balcony doors and threw them open. The storm had passed. The ocean shimmered under the moonlight, vast and untamed. The salt air filled my lungs, calling me home. I packed my final suitcase.

Downstairs, Arthur’s phone kept ringing. Through the floorboards, his frantic voice bled into the night.

"What do you mean they pulled the funding? All of them?" A loud crash followed, something heavy smashing against a wall. "You can't freeze the operational accounts! I have ships at sea! Hello? Hello!" The phone rang again. "The bank? Tell them to wait! My staff? Let them quit! I am the Duke of..." His voice cracked into a hysterical sob.

Dawn broke gray and sharp. The heavy diesel engine of the moving truck rattled the manor’s driveway.

I sat in the back of my hired town car. The driver put the car in gear. Arthur sprinted out of the front doors. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale and unshaven. He threw himself in front of the moving truck, waving his arms frantically.

"Elara!" he screamed, his voice raw. "Stop the cars! You can't leave me!"

I rolled down the tinted window. The morning air was crisp. I looked him dead in the eyes.

"Get out of the way," I said. "You're blocking the road."

I rolled the window up. The driver honked. Arthur flinched, stepping back as the heavy tires rolled past him. I didn't look back.

The tires crunched against the gravel driveway of the cliffside villa. I stepped out of the car. The crashing waves thundered directly below the terrace. The deep sea hummed in my blood, welcoming me back.

A fifth scale snapped off. The sharp pinch radiated through my chest and vanished. Ten years of screaming matches. Ten years of tearful apologies. Ten years of compromising my boundaries to keep the peace. All of it erased. The heavy chains of human attachment shattered completely.

I walked to the edge of the terrace and gripped the stone railing. The wind whipped my hair. I breathed in the raw, freezing sea spray.

"This is where I belong," I said.