Page 159 of Captive Audience

Everything was going to be okay.

62

ASHA

My eyelids felt heavy, and my head ached. I rolled over and blinked against the pale morning light.

No Rook.

Instead, my own bedroom walls stared back at me.

No.

I shot upright, and the room tilted hard. My heart went from rest to galloping as I tried to process what I was seeing. The familiar faded comforter, the chipped dresser, the ugly curtains half drawn.

This was my apartment. Not Rook’s penthouse.

On the bedside table sat a glass of water, two Advil pills, and an envelope with my name scrawled across the front.

I told myself it wasn’t real, that this was some morphine-fueled nightmare. But I’d been off the heavy painkillers for a while now. This was happening.

I stared at the envelope. I already knew what was inside.

Before I could bring myself to touch it, I tore through the room. My clothes hung neatly in the closet. My books and research journals were on the bookshelf. My laptop sat on the desk with its charger coiled beside it.

Every single thing Rook had shifted into his place was back where it belonged, as if he’d never uprooted my life at all.

A sob clawed up my throat, but rage drove it back down.

I snatched up the envelope with trembling fingers and ripped it open.

The letter was short. Too short to explain what the actual fuck was going on.

Wildfire,

I should never have pulled you into my world. You’re too good for it. Too good for me.

Our deal is fulfilled. As promised, you’re free now, and the marriage is annulled.

Don’t be angry with me, love. It was always supposed to end this way.

There’s money in your account. Use it to take care of yourself. To start over.

I’m sorry.

Forgive me if you can.

R

The annulment papers were tucked beneath, stamped, signed, and hammering the final nail in my chest.

I crumpled the letter in my fist. My heart seized like it might crack open.

“No.” I shook my head and dropped to my knees. “You stupid, pigheaded son of a bitch. What have you done?”

Hot tears spilled down my face, but the pain in my chest burned deeper than grief. It was fury. Betrayal. A heartbreak so sharp I could barely breathe.

How dare he decide for us.