Chapter 3: The Last Goodbye

But I didn’t care anymore. I was done with this kind of life.

I let the emptiness settle in my chest, cold and final. I was done playing his games.

Still, I had to fight for my child, for Charlotte.

I owed them that much. I couldn’t just let their memory fade, not like this.

Today was the anniversary of their deaths. As a brother, as a father—how could Harrison not be here?

I stared at the family photos on the mantel, fingers tracing Charlotte’s smile. Harrison should’ve been here. He owed them that.

I picked up a shard of glass and pressed it to my wrist. Just a little pressure, and blood welled up.

I watched the crimson bead up, sharp and bright. The pain was almost a relief—something real, something I could control.

As Harrison was about to turn the doorknob, I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper.

My voice shook, barely more than a breath. "Harrison, today is Charlotte’s death anniversary. If you leave, I’ll go see her myself."

He turned, shocked, then quickly calmed down, giving a lazy, mocking laugh.

He forced a smile, masking his fear with bravado. "Savannah, once was enough for that trick."

"Besides, someone as pragmatic as you—would you really be willing to die?"

He tossed the words over his shoulder, voice cold and dismissive. But I saw the way his hands trembled.

He was so casual, so dismissive, but his words cut deep. He walked out without hesitation.

I watched the door close behind him, the finality of it settling in my bones. He didn’t even look back.

Suddenly, I felt all the blood in my body turn cold. My heart ached dully, even my breath trembled.

I sank to the floor, arms wrapped around my knees. The house felt too big, too empty. I shivered, unable to stop.

We’d known each other for eighteen years—from eight to twenty-six. In Harrison’s eyes, I was just someone who put profit above all else.

I remembered the first time we met, two kids on a playground, daring each other to climb higher. Somewhere along the way, we’d lost ourselves.

I slowly put down the shard. Harrison was right. I didn’t dare die, and I couldn’t bear to.

I set the glass aside, hands shaking. I wasn’t ready to give up—not yet. There was still something left to fight for.

Because when Charlotte died, she begged me to take care of her brother. I owed her a life—I owed the Lowell family a life.

Her last words echoed in my mind, a promise I couldn’t break. I’d spent years trying to make it right, but maybe it was time to let go.

That’s why Harrison was so sure I’d never leave him.

He counted on my loyalty, my guilt. He knew I’d never walk away—not really.

Even though, for the past three years, he’d stolen company projects, let his mistresses provoke me, and humiliated me again and again in front of others.

He’d pushed me to my limits, testing how much I could take. I’d let it happen, telling myself it was what I deserved.

I took a deep breath, looking at my swollen, numb face in the mirror—and suddenly, I laughed.

The sound was sharp, almost manic. I wiped away a tear, a strange sense of freedom blooming in my chest.

I didn’t owe them a damn thing anymore. Not one more second.

As for Harrison, someone would take good care of him.

I pictured Maribel, her soft eyes and trembling hands. Maybe she’d succeed where I failed. Maybe she’d break him, or maybe he’d break her.

With that, I dialed a familiar number.

My fingers hovered over the keypad, heart pounding. I pressed call, listening to the ring. It was time to write my own ending, at last.