Page 69 of Royal Deception
I close my eyes for a second, imagining what Miranda is up to downstairs. I don’t know who she’s calling, but I can guess. She’s probably arranging for someone to get my things from Rory’s place.
As I lay there, the silence of the room settles in, and I feel the weight of everything crashing down on me.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I realize now—really realize—what I’ve done. The life I thought I was building, the relationship with Rory, the little fantasy that had been playing in my head… It was all a lie, a façade. And the gala, with Callie and the way he looked at her… it exposed everything for what it really was.
I break down then, my body shaking as sobs rack through me. I curl into myself, clutching the soft blankets as if they could somehow protect me from the pain. I don’t know how long I cry, but by the time I hear Miranda’s footfalls coming back up the stairs, I quickly sit up, hastily wiping away the evidence of my breakdown. I don’t want her to see me like this.
She enters the room quietly and without a word hands me a box of tissues, sitting next to me on the bed. Her presence is soothing, like she understands. She doesn’t try to fix it, doesn’t rush me. She just… is there.
“Let yourself cry tonight,” she says gently, her voice steady and warm, “then tomorrow… tomorrow, you’re going to pick yourself back up and move on without that horrid man.”
Her words, her kindness, are like a balm to my broken heart. For the first time tonight, I don’t feel completely lost.
I manage a small, wobbly smile. “Maybe we can talk about fashion school tomorrow, then?” I ask, my voice still shaky from the tears. It feels ridiculous, asking about something so trivial in the midst of everything, but somehow, it’s what I need. A new path. A distraction.
Miranda’s smile grows bigger, a true warmth in her eyes. “That sounds like a fantastic idea. We’re going to help you get on your feet and find a new path forward, darling.”
For the first time in a while, I feel a flicker of hope. I’m not alone. I’m not trapped. There’s something else, something more for me. Maybe I’m not meant to stay stuck in this toxic mess with Rory. Maybe I can do better.
Later that night, as I lie in bed, exhaustion pulling at my limbs, something odd crosses my mind. The mysterious stranger from the gala. The man with the briefcase. I didn’t get a good look at him, too caught up in my own mess with Rory and Callie, but something about him lingers in my memory. His eyes. They seem so familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen them before.
I drift off to sleep before I can make sense of it, the image of his eyes still lingering in the back of my mind like an unfinished thought I can’t grasp.
29
RORY
Istare at the note, her neat handwriting scrawled across the paper.
I can’t do this anymore.
A simple message but one that feels like a punch to the gut.
I should’ve expected it. She was unhappy. I knew that much. But somehow, I still didn’t think she’d actually leave. I thought maybe I could make things right. I thought that maybe I’d be able to smooth things over, make her understand that this was just how I am, that relationships, real relationships, aren’t for someone like me.
But now, she’s gone.
It’s a bitter truth settling like stone in my chest. I spent so much time focusing on Callie, on the damn gala, on everything except what was right in front of me. Clary. She was always there, wasn’t she? Always, like some quiet constant in the background of my life, making sure things ran smoothly. She was good at that—too good. She blended into the background so well, I barely even noticed how much I relied on her. How much I depended on her.
How much I fucking liked having her around.
The realization hits me like a freight train. I thought I was just doing my job, just keeping it professional. But if I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I ever really wanted to let her go. The way she smiled, the way she would look at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention… There was something there. Something real. Something I took for granted, assuming I could just pick it up whenever I wanted.
But I didn’t want it when she was offering it, did I?
I look down at the collar in my hand, at a gesture I thought would be the ultimate symbol of my commitment, of what I wanted with her. I thought maybe she’d be the one to finally make me want a real relationship. A relationship where I wasn’t just playing at being dominant and controlling. Where I could be something more.
But I fucked it up, didn’t I?
I didn’t listen to her. I didn’t see her for who she was. I pushed her into a role she didn’t really want, and instead of hearing her, listening to her needs, I shoved my own wants down her throat, ignoring everything that wasn’t what I wanted to see.
I let Callie and the gala, the fucking event, come between us.
And now she’s gone.
As I sit down on the bed, I try to tell myself I’ll get over her.
This was always the way it was going to go. I knew Clary was always too good for someone like me, someone who could never commit, never give enough. That’s why I pushed her away after the little fling we had.
