Chapter 2

Maria, the Thompsons' housekeeper, found me packing a small suitcase a few days later. She' d been with the family for decades, a silent witness to my entire life under their roof. Her eyes, usually warm, were filled with a sad concern.

"Miss Ava," she said softly, her hands twisting in her apron. "Are you sure about this? Leaving like this?"

She hesitated, then continued, "Master Alex… he used to care for you so much. Remember when you fell from the oak tree? He carried you all the way back, wouldn't let anyone else touch you until the doctor came."

Flashbacks flickered, Alex, younger, his face creased with genuine worry. His hand, surprisingly gentle, brushing hair from my feverish forehead. Moments of what I had mistaken for a deeper affection.

"He was always looking out for you, even when he was just a boy himself," Maria pressed, her voice a plea. "Maybe… maybe he just doesn't realize."

I listened, a dull ache spreading through my chest. Maria saw the good in him, the boy he once was. But I saw the man he had become, the one who chose Chloe, the one who built walls.

"Maria," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "He proposed to Chloe last night. At the charity gala. It was in all the papers this morning."

I held up my phone, the headline stark and clear: "Thompson Heir Engaged to Vanderbilt Heiress." That was the catalyst, the final, undeniable proof. My love was a ghost, and I was tired of haunting his life.

"This marriage to Mr. Evans," I continued, folding a sweater neatly, "it's a practical arrangement. He understands I want to study. I'll be in New York. I need this, Maria. To stand on my own feet."

I tried to smile, to reassure her. "I'm grateful for everything the Thompsons have done for me. This is just… it's time for me to go."

She sighed, a deep, mournful sound. "If you're sure, child."

"I am," I said.

"Please," I added, looking directly at her, "don't mention this to Alex. Or Chloe. I want to leave quietly."

Maria nodded, her eyes still troubled. "I won't say a word, Miss Ava."

She understood, or at least, she wouldn't interfere. The secrecy felt necessary, a small shield against any last-minute drama or attempts to change my mind. My departure was set.

My birthday arrived a week later, a quiet affair. Alex found me in the library, a small, elegantly wrapped gift in his hand.

"Happy birthday, Ava," he said, a strained smile on his face.

I took the box. "Thank you, Alex."

Later, Chloe found me admiring the delicate silver locket.

"Oh, Alex gave you that?" she drawled, examining her perfectly manicured nails. "It's sweet. I think I wore it to a party last year. Or was it my cousin? Anyway, it didn't quite go with my new diamond studs, so I told him he could find a new home for it."

Her words, casual and cruel, landed like tiny shards of ice. A hand-me-down. That' s what I was to him, to them. A leftover.

I closed my hand around the locket, the metal suddenly cold against my palm.