They both startled.
He turned. Through the glass, I caught the shock in his eyes—then it curdled into disgust.
He didn't stop.
Didn't roll down the window. Didn't ask a single question.
One cold glance. A gesture to the driver.
"Drive."
The engine roared. The Maybach tore away without mercy.
Dust and exhaust hit me full in the face.
I stumbled after it, legs giving out. I crashed hard onto the pavement.
My knee split open. My palms scraped raw.
I couldn't feel any of it.
I only saw that car speeding off—carrying my father's last chance—vanishing into the night.
Through the rear window, Lily was nestled in Adrian's arms. He was leaning down, wiping something from the corner of her mouth.
So gentle it broke your heart.
A tenderness he'd never given me.
Not when I took a knife for him. Not when I washed his clothes, cooked his meals, gave him everything.
Eight years of my youth couldn't buy a single backward glance.
I lay on the frozen concrete, staring at the empty street.
The tears finally broke through.
I lost the bet.
Wendy, you lost.
You gambled your father's life on a shred of Adrian's conscience—and you lost everything.
My phone buzzed.