Claire, Grant, and I huddle over coffee. The gala is today.
"Let's go through it one more time." Grant spreads a hand-drawn floor plan across the table. "The safe is in my mother's study. Second floor, east wing, behind a painting of her grandmother."
"And you're sure about the combination?" Claire studies the layout.
"Baptism date. She uses it for everything. Zero-eight-fifteen-nineteen-ninety-two." He taps the paper. "Same code for years."
"What if she changed it?" My voice shakes.
"She hasn't. Trust me." Grant's hand finds mine. "It's going to work."
Claire pulls out her notes. "Timeline. Guests arrive at six. Cocktail hour until seven-thirty. That's when I spill wine all over Mrs. Ellison. She'll lose her mind, everyone focuses on the disaster. You slip away."
"I go upstairs. East wing. Second door on the right." I trace the path. "Study, behind the desk, move the painting, open the safe."
"Ten minutes maximum." Grant's voice is firm. "Get the key, bring it down to me. I'll slip out to the twenty-four hour place three blocks away. They can duplicate it in ten minutes."
"Then you put the original back." Claire finishes. "Before anyone notices it's gone."
"Exactly. I return, hand you the duplicate, you go back upstairs and replace the original in the safe." Grant traces the timeline on his notes. "Total time, forty minutes if everything goes smooth."
"What if someone sees me?"
"Looking for a bathroom. Got lost. Big house." Claire's response is immediate. "Flustered and apologetic."
"I'll keep my father occupied with some crisis about the silent auction." Grant adds. "He won't wander off."
"After you get it?" Claire asks quietly. "Do you unlock it right away?"
"At home. Alone. Then I keep wearing it around my parents until college. They can't know." The words come steadier than I feel.
"Smart." Grant nods.
Claire reaches across, takes my hands. "Tonight you take back what they stole. Tonight you're free."
Tears prick my eyes but I don't let them fall.
"Thank you. Both of you."
"That's what friends do." Claire squeezes once. "We fight for each other."
Grant gathers the papers. "I should go. Can't risk your parents finding these. Pick you up at five-thirty?"
"I'll be ready."
He pauses at the door. "Tonight changes everything."
After he leaves, Claire checks her phone. "Hair appointment in an hour. Mom wants family photos before we leave."
"Okay." I walk her out, hug her tight. "Be careful tonight."
"You too." She pulls back. "You've got this."
Then she's gone. The house feels too empty.
Movement in the doorway makes me turn. Jordan stands there. Coffee mug in hand. How long has he been listening?
"Morning." His voice is careful. Measured. "Sounds like you three have quite the evening planned."
"It's a gala. Everyone has plans."
"Right. A gala." He takes a sip. Studies me over the rim. "You and Grant make a good team. Very thorough. Very coordinated."
Something in his tone sets my teeth on edge. The casual observation that isn't casual at all.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just an observation." He sets down the mug. "You seem happy. Settled. Like you've made your choice."
The words land with weight. Accusation disguised as acceptance.
"Maybe I have."
"Good." He nods once. Sharp. "Good for you. Grant's a solid guy. Your parents approve. Everything is nice and neat."
"Jealous?" The word comes out sharp.
"Should I be?" His deep brown eyes meet mine. "You're getting what you wanted. Freedom. A future. Someone who's actually available."
"You mean someone who isn't a coward."
His jaw tightens. "I prefer realistic."
"Realistic." I laugh. Bitter. "Is that what we're calling it now? You pushed me away, Jordan. You refused to give me what I asked for. So yeah. Grant's there. Grant's willing. Grant actually wants me."
"I never said I didn't want you."
"You didn't say you did either. Not when it mattered." My hands clench. "You know what? Tonight I'm getting rid of this thing. Tonight I'm finally free. And when that happens, when the belt comes off, I'm choosing someone who actually chose me back."
Something shifts in his expression. Understanding. Horror. "Maya—"
"Congratulations are in order." I cut him off. Voice cold. "But you should probably save them for Grant. He's the one you should be greeting about tonight."
The implication lands. I watch it hit. Watch realization crash over him.
"You're going to—" He can't finish the sentence.
"Sleep with him? Yeah. Probably. Why not? He wants me. He's not afraid to say it. And I'll finally be able to do something about what I want without metal getting in the way."
"Don't do this."
"Do what? Choose someone available? Move on from someone who dumped me?" My voice shakes with fury. "You don't get to have an opinion anymore. You gave up that right."
"I was trying to protect—"
"Yourself." The words come out savage. "You were protecting yourself from consequences. From having to actually commit to something real. Well congratulations. You're safe. And I'm done waiting for you to grow a spine."
His face has gone pale. "Maya, please—"
"I need to get ready." I move toward the stairs. "Big night ahead. Lots to celebrate."
I don't look back. Don't want to see his expression. Don't want to feel guilty for the hurt I'm causing.
But I catch it anyway in my peripheral vision. The devastation. The fear. The understanding that tonight changes everything.
He looks shattered. Afraid.
Good.
Let him feel what I've been feeling. Let him imagine Grant's hands on me. Grant inside me. Grant getting everything Jordan was too scared to claim.
In my room, I lock the door and lean against it. My heart hammers. Not from fear. From savage satisfaction.
I won. Tonight I choose myself. Choose freedom. Choose moving forward instead of waiting for someone who'll never be ready.
And if choosing myself means choosing Grant?
Then Jordan can live with the consequences of his cowardice.
Hours pass. I do my hair. The cream dress waits. I slip into it carefully over the belt that's coming off tonight.
When I look in the mirror, I see someone different. Someone done performing. Done waiting. Done letting fear control her.
My phone buzzes at five-twenty.
Jordan's name on the screen.
Need to talk. Tonight. It's important.
I stare at the message. Too late. He's too late.
Tonight I get the key. Tonight I'm finally free. Tonight I stop letting anyone else decide what I'm allowed to want.
The phone buzzes again. Grant downstairs.
I delete Jordan's message without responding.
Time to go.