I had made my decision.

The moment the sun rose, I knew I would leave.

Evan was right—I had been standing at a crossroads, and for the first time, I wasn’t sure that revenge alone would be enough. 

I needed time. Space. I needed to understand who I was when I wasn’t playing this never-ending game of burn-the-patriarchy.

Idellia would give me that. Sunshine, seclusion, and hopefully fewer men confessing their undying devotion.

But I needed to do one last thing before I could go.

The parting gift I knew I’d regret not giving.

Lorran arrived at our meeting place looking like a man who’d barely survived a tragic opera.

The exhaustion wasn’t just in his eyes—it was in his posture, his sigh, the dramatic flop of his hair. His whole presence screamed I’ve been emotionally devastated by a beautiful woman and I didn’t see it coming.

"You called for me," he said, breathless. “I could barely believe it when I got your note.”

I gave him a mild smile. "I don’t like leaving conversations half-finished."

Which was a lie. I adored leaving people mid-sentence. But this one needed closure.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away briefly. "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you."

I tilted my head. "Is that a compliment, or a cry for help?"

A soft laugh escaped him, but it had all the joy of a funeral hymn. "It’s a realization."

He hesitated, then stepped closer. "I don’t know why I feel this way when I’m around you. But you make me feel…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don’t even know how to describe it."

Indigestion? I almost said. But I bit my tongue.

Instead, I handed him a small slip of parchment.

He frowned slightly as I held it out to him. "What’s this?"

"Help," I said simply.

His brow furrowed.

"That name," I continued, "is a high-level administrator of one of the most powerful merchant organizations in the empire. If you reach out to them, they will offer assistance with House Norville’s financial troubles."

Lorran stared at me, eyes flicking from the paper to my face. "Why would you do this?"

I exhaled slowly. I couldn’t tell him that it was his wife I wanted to fall, not him. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

"Because I don’t want to see bad things happen to you."

It was the truth.

He swallowed, his grip on the parchment tightening. "I don’t know what to say."

"Then don’t say anything," I murmured. "Just… get your wife under control. If you don’t, none of it will matter.”

His jaw clenched. But after a long pause, he gave a slow nod and rubbed the back of his neck like a man resigning himself to his fate.

Then, quietly: "Will I see you again?"

I considered lying.

But that felt cruel. So I smiled, a little vague, a little mysterious. "We’ll see."

And then I walked away—like the tragic heroine of a romantic play that I had absolutely no intention of performing in ever again.

I had one more thing to do, concerning House Norville.

I hadn’t delivered the final blow myself, but I couldn’t let Brynda escape unscathed.

There was a letter I needed to send before I left. A carefully crafted message, sealed with no identifying mark, delivered to the one person who had both the power and the ruthlessness to handle her in my absence.

The ex-Marquess Norville.

I wrote the letter with painstaking precision, detailing Brynda’s reckless spending, her political missteps, her failures in maintaining House Norville’s reputation.

I ensured the old man would see her not as a victim of misfortune but as a liability.

The former marquess had retired to the southern estate many months ago, letting Lorran take over the family’s affairs.

But he still had influence, still had connections, still had enough pride left in the Norville name that he would not let Brynda’s failures slide.

By the time I reached Idellia, the storm I had set into motion would already be underway.

And I wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

A Departure and an Unspoken Goodbye

Evan was waiting at the docks.

He had arranged everything—quietly, efficiently, and with the subtle flair of someone who definitely would’ve made an excellent spy or a terrifying concierge.

The ship behind him looked almost regal, sails crisp in the wind, the whole thing practically whispering this is where your plot arc pivots.

I was leaving.

For a year.

I approached him with the measured calm of a woman who hadn’t spent the last hour internally spiraling.

"I see you made sure everything was in order."

Evan’s smile was softer than usual. "I wasn’t going to let you leave unprepared."

I glanced toward the ship, then back at him. "This doesn’t mean I’m walking away from everything."

"I know," he said.

But something flickered in his gaze—something guarded, uncertain.

A silence stretched between us, heavier than it had ever been.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

I wasn’t supposed to care about leaving.

But as I stood there, watching him watch me, I realized something I hadn’t let myself think about until now.

What if I came back and everything was different?

What if he was different?

Evan shifted slightly, his hands clenched at his sides as if he wanted to reach for me but was forcing himself not to.

I wanted to say something, to break whatever this was between us.

Instead, I took a step closer. "A year is a long time."

His smile faltered. "It is."

Another silence.

Another unspoken thing between us.

Finally, he exhaled. "If you get yourself killed in Idellia, I will be really annoyed."

I laughed, quiet, strangled, sincere. “Noted.”

"Take care of yourself, Cassandra," he murmured.

The way he said my name—low, careful, like it meant something—made my chest feel uncomfortably full.

I swallowed hard, tilting my chin up. "You too."

Then, before I could change my mind, before I could let myself linger too long, I turned and boarded the ship.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t have to.

Because I could feel him watching me until the sea swallowed the dock whole.

As the ship pulled away, I curled my fingers around the railing and stared at the city as it faded into the horizon.

The wind tasted like salt and change.

I told myself this was just another step in the plan.

That I wasn’t leaving anything behind.

But deep down, I was terrified.

Scared that, when I returned, nothing would be the same.