It was true. I had longed for this project more than anything. But I had tossed it aside—because of him. I had refused the offer, too afraid to be away from Marcus for three whole years. Now, the idea of being far away from him couldn’t come soon enough.
My fingers brushed against the fake scar adhered to my cheek. Even though the original scar had finally healed, I continued wearing this one. I wanted him to believe I was still broken, still weak. Let him think he’d succeeded in destroying me.
“I haven’t told anyone yet,” I said quickly when she proposed announcing it during dinner. “Not even Marcus.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Why keep it a secret?”
I offered a small, strained smile. “I just... don’t want people to feel sad or try to talk me out of it. I might change my mind if they do.”
She nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. “Alright, but at least eat dinner with us tonight. Your stepfather has something important to share.”