I didn’t even wait for him to wake up.
Carter was still in bed, lying on his stomach, dead asleep like nothing had happened. Like he didn’t come home reeking of alcohol. Like he hadn’t ignored my calls all night. Like he hadn’t been photographed all over the internet with another woman.
I didn’t want to hear his excuses.
I didn’t want to know what happened with Emma—or who she even really was. I didn’t care if it was innocent or not. I didn’t care if he was drunk or if she came onto him or if the photos were misleading.
I couldn’t afford to stay.
Not when I was carrying two lives inside me. Not when every second here felt like poison in my lungs.
I walked quietly through the apartment, the morning light creeping through the blinds, lighting everything with a false sense of peace. My heart thudded in my chest like a slow drum. I went to the closet, grabbed the small bag I’d brought when I first moved in, and filled it with just enough—my essentials, my vitamins, two maternity dresses, a pair of shoes, and my toothbrush.
No note. No goodbye. I looked back at him once.
Just once.
And then I left.
The cab ride was quiet.
Too quiet.
The city was waking up around me—honking cars, people rushing down sidewalks with coffee, sunlight hitting glass towers—but I felt like I was under water. Numb. Slow.
When I pulled up to the old apartment—the same one Lila had helped me find before—I saw her standing at the entrance already, waiting.
She spotted me from across the sidewalk, her eyes immediately softening.
“Oh my god, Miss Jane,” she said, rushing over. “I’m so sorry.”
I dropped my bag as she pulled me into a hug.
Her arms were warm. Familiar. Safe.
And suddenly, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
I broke.
I cried into her chest, big ugly sobs that shook my whole body.
She held me tight, whispering soft words I barely heard.
“It’s okay, baby… I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
We went inside.
The apartment was still the same.
Small. A little cold. But mine.
Lila made me tea and sat with me on the couch while I curled up in a blanket and tried to breathe through the pain.
I didn’t say much. I couldn’t.
I just kept replaying it in my head—Carter’s silence, those pictures, his hand on Emma’s arm. The whispers. The headlines. The way he didn’t come back when he said he would.
And for what?
To be humiliated all over again?
To be reminded that I would never belong in his world?
I wiped my eyes and reached for my phone to check the time.
That’s when I saw the message.
From him.
Richard Ellis.
I didn’t want to open it.
But I did.
“How does it feel to be nothing more than a KING whore? Even he doesn’t want you. You’ve embarrassed yourself and my name. You’re a disgrace.”
My fingers went numb.
I stared at the screen, reading the words again. And again. Each time, it cut deeper. He didn’t just call me names. He reminded me exactly where I stood.
Alone. Rejected. Ashamed.
Tears blurred my vision.
I dropped the phone and buried my face in Lila’s lap, sobbing again. She stroked my hair, whispering gently.
“You’re not what he says, Jane. He doesn’t get to define you. Not anymore.”
But it was hard to believe her when the people I trusted kept showing me otherwise.
Carter let me fall.
And my father?
He was always waiting to kick me when I was down.