Page 105 of Picture Perfect

The words ricochet inside my skull like bullets, each one a self-inflicted wound. I berate myself for ever believing I could have been something real for him, more than just a fleeting distraction.

My throat constricts, the sound of their laughter reverberating around the hollow space of my gut. I should've known better. It's like a punch to the heart, watching him so effortlessly charming, so undeniably alive. The cracks form quickly, spider-webbing through the façade I've carefully built up. My pulse stutters, uneven and sharp against the soft flutter of flirtation playing out before me.

I press my back against the cool wall, willing my heart to still its frantic pace, willing my mind to piece itself back together. But it's no use; the image is seared into my memory.

"Stupid," I whisper, the word a blade slashing through the last threads of hope I'd foolishly clung to. Chess's laughter continues to echo down the hall, oblivious to the fracture he's caused.

With a deep breath to steady my trembling legs, I pivot away from the lab and the shattered illusion within. I can't stay here—not when every fiber of my being screams to run, to hide, to escape the pain that threatens to consume me.

I stride away, my footsteps echoing too loudly against the linoleum. It's like every step is a word, a harsh whisper in the silence of the corridor that says 'run'. I can't stay here, not with the afterimage of Chess and those girls seared into my retinas. My hands are shaking, and I shove them into the pockets of my skirt, trying to steady them.

"Stupid," I murmur to myself, the word barely a breath as it leaves my lips. "You're so stupid, Addy."

The realization sinks in like a stone in water: I was just one more option in Chess's collection. The special moments, the jokes—they were probably recycled, passed down like second-hand trinkets. And I fell for it, basked in the glow of attention like it meant something more.

"Hey, Addy! Skipping out early?" The voice belongs to no one important, just another faceless peer who doesn't understand the chaos swirling inside of me.

"Something like that," I mutter without stopping or looking back.

As soon as I push through the double doors at the end of the hallway, sunlight hits my face, but it does nothing to warm the chill that's settled deep within my bones. The parking lot is nearly empty this time of day, and I feel a surge of relief knowing I’m far from prying eyes.

But there's a small victory in this defeat—the choice to walk away was mine, and mine alone. I cling to that thought like a lifeline as I push past the gates of the school, leaving the whispers and judgmental glances behind.

I don't look back, not once, as I trace the familiar path home. The tears finally break free, but they're not enough to blur the conviction setting in. Hope is dangerous, trust is folly, but choice—that's power. And today, I choose to save myself.

Chapter forty-seven

Addy ?

The key turns with a whisper, and I step into the dim quiet of the Winthrop manor. Everything that's happened still prickles at the back of my mind, mingling with the undercurrent of anxiety that never quite leaves me. The house seems to hold its breath as I slip off my shoes, the air thick with an eerie stillness that has my own breath hitching in my chest.

I stomp upstairs and make my way toward my bedroom, not paying any attention to my surroundings. Neither Cheryl nor William has a regular schedule, but no one should be home at this time of day.

Oh, how wrong I am.

"Home early?" The voice slices through the silence like a shard of glass, and I whirl around, heart hammering against my ribs.

William looms in the upstairs hallway, his shadow stretching long and ominous across the polished floors. There’s a darkness in his eyes that sends a shiver skittering down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the chill of the house.

"I wasn't feeling well," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

"Is that so?" His tone is deceptively mild, but there's a glint in his gaze that tells me he's not buying it. "And you're here all alone?"

I nod, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear, fighting to keep my composure. William's presence always sets me on edge, like a cat poised to flee at the first sign of danger. He steps closer, and his proximity feels like a threat. I resist the urge to step back.

"Of course I'm alone," I assure him, hoping my words sound convincing. It's not a lie—after seeing Chess and the truth of the situation, I hadn't wanted to be near the other two either. But there's something about the way William watches me, like he’s trying to unearth secrets I don't even know I'm keeping.

"Interesting." The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It's the quiet before the storm, and I can almost sense the thunder rolling in, ready to strike without warning.

"Was there something you needed from me?" My question hangs between us, laced with a cautiousness born from too many encounters that have left me feeling frayed and exposed.

"From you?" His chuckle is low and humorless. "No, Adelaide. I was just curious about your unexpected return." He takes another step forward, invading my space. "Curiosity, as they say, killed the cat. But sometimes, it reveals the rat."

I swallow hard, green eyes locked onto his, refusing to show the fear that threatens to consume me. I've learned to wear my armor well after years in the foster system and even worse, my years in this house; it's a defense that's become second nature. I won't let him see how desperately I want to retreat to the safety of my room, to lock the door and melt away from this confrontation.

"Then consider your curiosity satisfied," I say, forcing a brittle smile onto my lips. "I'm just going to head to my room to study."

"Study," he repeats, as if tasting the word, pondering its flavor. "Oh, Adelaide. I don't think that will be necessary."

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