Too Late For Redemption: The Runaway Princess

Genevieve POV

The dead silence following the click of the disconnected line was the loudest sound I had ever heard.

Everleigh dropped the act instantly. The fake crying ceased as if she’d flipped a switch.

She looked at the phone clutched in my hand, then up at me.

"You're going to regret that," she whispered.

"Get out," I said.

She grabbed her purse. "Gladly. This place smells like failure."

She stepped gingerly over the broken vase and the scattered cash, slamming the door behind her with a finality that rattled the frame.

I stood there for a long time.

Until my legs gave out.

I sank to the floor, amidst the shards of cheap ceramic and the dirty money.

I didn't cry.

I was past crying.

I felt a strange, cold clarity settle over me.

It was over.

The hope that my father would wake up, that he would finally see me, that he would choose me... it was a cancer. And I had just cut it out.

I looked at the window.

Snow was falling.

Thick, heavy flakes that covered the grime of the city in pristine white.

I stood up.

I put on my coat.

I grabbed the velvet box with the sapphire necklace—the bribe he had given me in the alley.

I walked out.

I didn't wait for a bus. I walked.

Five miles of pavement and ice to the Foley estate.

The cold bit through my thin coat, numbing my skin, matching the hollow numbness in my chest.

When I arrived at the gates, they were open.

Cars were streaming in. Bentleys. Rolls Royces. A river of polished steel and arrogance.

The engagement party.

I slipped through the side gate, the invisible entrance the staff used.

I knew the shadows of this house better than anyone.

I stood by the edge of the rose garden, hidden by the gnarled trunk of a large oak tree.

The house was glowing.

Golden light spilled from every window, mocking the dark.

I could hear the music. A string quartet playing Vivaldi.

I saw them through the French doors of the ballroom.

My father stood on a raised platform.

His arm was around Everleigh.

She was wearing a white dress, looking like a virgin sacrifice who had learned to hold the knife herself.

My cousin stood on the other side, looking bored and rich.

My father raised a glass.

I couldn't hear the words, but I saw the adoration in the room.

The applause rippled like a wave.

He kissed Everleigh on the forehead.

A fatherly kiss.

The kiss he used to give me before he realized I had a mind of my own.

He had replaced me.

Not just as an heir. But as a daughter.

I looked down at the velvet box in my hand.

I walked to the garden wall, where the snow was deepest.

I dug a small hole with my frozen fingers, clawing at the hard earth.

I dropped the box in.

I didn't just bury a necklace.

I buried Gen Foley.

I covered it with snow and patted it down.

"Goodbye, Papa," I whispered.

The wind snatched the words away.

Inside, the music swelled.

I turned my back on the light, on the warmth, on the lies.

I walked back into the dark.

I returned to the basement apartment.

It was empty.

Ignatz wasn't there.

I looked at the calendar.

Two days until the launch.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

My feet were blue from the cold.

But I felt lighter.

I had no father. I had no family.

I only had myself.

And for the first time in my life, that had to be enough.