Page 112 of Isaia

A tear slips free, the lie cutting through my insides, plowing through my heart—and a gentle sob slips out with a breath.

“Jesus, Everly.” Anthony sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. “What the fuck did that bastard do to you?”

Tears come down hard and fast, the pain excruciating, the betrayal killing me from the inside. Out of everything, this is the worst part—the part where I have no choice but to use the man who makes my soul come alive, who manages to make my heart beat faster than ever before, who’s claimed every part…maybe even my heart. I’m using the man I’ve fallen in love with to save my mother’s life.

Anthony squeezes me tighter, his head leaning on mine.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he murmurs. “But I swear to you, I’ll make him pay for hurting you, Everly. I’m going to fucking destroy him.”

“No!” I pull back from his chest and look up into his stormy eyes. He looks down at me, a terrifying promise of violence echoing in his gaze. “I don’t want you to do that. Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

He frowns in question.

“I…” Jesus, I’m scrambling for words. “I don’t want a war, Anthony. I want to move on with my life, with you…and never see or even think about Isaia ever again.” My heart splinters into nothing, leaving a giant hole inside my chest. “Please…promise me. No violence. No retaliation. Just us and a future without Isaia’s shadow hanging over us.”

“Everly, I can’t?—”

“Promise me!” I press, desperation clawing at my bones. “Please.” My voice breaks as tears spill. “If you’ve ever cared about me or thought of me as more than a friend, just marry me, and let’s move on.”

The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words. My heart aches, not for Anthony, but for Isaia—the man I can’t have, the man I want with every broken piece of me. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling his touch, his kiss, is a pain so sharp it’s suffocating—and the lie, the deceit, it makes it all a thousand times worse.

Anthony exhales, his grip tightening on my hand.

“Okay,” he says finally. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not. But I nod anyway because it’s the only choice I have.

“I need to make some calls. From now on, you’ll have twenty-four-seven security so that bastard can’t come anywhere near you.” He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering for a second too long. “I’m going to keep you safe, Everly. I swear it.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, biting back the need to sob as I watch him walk out with his phone in hand.

The second the door closes behind him, I drop to my knees, a sob ripping through my chest—so violent, so painful, I forget how to breathe.

The guilt coils tight, claws tearing my insides apart, and I can’t shake the image of Isaia’s face if he knew—if he could see the way I’m weaving this web of deception. I am severing every thread that connects us for the sake of a choice that isn’t even my own. It’s a deep betrayal that fractures my soul, leaving nothing but jagged edges behind.

“I’m sorry,” I wail between tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Everything aches, yet nothing’s alive inside me anymore. Michele’s blackmail and my lies…it killed all of me at once. Andwhile I sit here on the cold floor crying, breaking, I have no idea if I’ll ever find the strength to piece myself back together.

Maybe I don’t deserve to.

Chapter 35

EVERLY

The church’s bridal suite is suffocating. The air is thick with the cloying scent of roses and the hum of distant organ music.

I stand before the gilded mirror, staring at the reflection of someone I barely recognize.

The dress is a towering monstrosity of lace, beading, and tulle. It’s the kind of dress that demands attention, dripping in wealth and status. It’s not me. I hate it.

The bodice is too tight, squeezing the breath from my lungs, while the full skirt fans out like a cloud. The intricate silver embroidery climbs up the fabric in delicate vines, scratching my skin with every move I make, and the veil cascades down my back, a mournful waterfall of ivory silk.

It’s too much. Too flashy. Too everything. I wanted something simple, something that felt like me, but this dress is a statement—not of love, but of control.

I close my eyes, focusing on steadying my breath. But nothing steadies the ache inside me, the hollow, gnawing pain that’s beenmy constant companion these past few days. They’ve been a blur of fittings, floral arrangements, and endless discussions about seating charts.

Everyone’s been so busy—sohappy—planning the wedding of the year, and I’ve been dying inside, silently screaming while the world around me moves forward without hesitation.

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