Page 221 of Their Arrangement

It never had been.

By the time I stepped out onto the top floor, my knees had already started to shake. Not from fear. From guilt. The kind that builds bone-deep. That crawls into your ribs and doesn’t come out. That whispers in your ear when no one else is speaking.

Every footstep sounded like betrayal.

Like I was breaking a promise I hadn’t said out loud.

The promise to stay.

To try.

To be honest.

The chain wasn’t around my neck anymore. I’d left it behind that morning. Folded it into the pocket of his hoodie like a confession I couldn’t say out loud. Because I couldn’t take it with me. Not when I was about to do this. Not when I was about to open the one door that might tear everything apart.

Not when I wasn’t sure which of them wouldburn first.

Me.

Or him.

I passed Wolfe’s office.

Didn’t look in.

Didn’t breathe.

The air felt thick here—like it remembered me. And it hated what I was about to do.

Barron’s office loomed at the end of the hall. Dark glass. Heavy door.

I reached into my pocket for the code. Slipped the slip of paper out. My fingers trembled. Not from doubt. From knowing I’d already made my choice. I typed the numbers. Camille’s birthday.

The lock clicked open. The door opened with a sigh. That was the worst part. Not the resistance. Not the weight. The ease. Like the lock had been waiting. I stared at it longer this time. Not like a thief. Like a girl standing at the edge of something permanent.

Sweat slid down my spine. The weight in my chest made my breathing shallow. Not panic. Not quite. But the kind of ache you get when you know you’re about to be unforgivable.

I imagined Wolfe walking in. What he’d say. What his face would look like when he saw the book in my hands and realized I hadn’t just left him?—

I’d chosen someone else. I blinked hard. Grabbed the book. And shut the safe before I could change my mind. It didn’t feel like paper. It felt like weight. Like heat. Like every lie I’d ever told had been stitched into the spine.

I reached for it.

Paused.

Then picked it up.

My hands didn’t shake. Not this time. Because when you’realready broken, there’s nothing left to drop. I pressed it to my chest for a second. Closed my eyes.

Whispered—

“I’m sorry.”

Not to Wolfe.

Not to Barron.

To Camille.