Page 74 of Legacy
I toss the photo onto the mattress like it burns.
I’m spiraling.
The words feel like air slipping through my teeth. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes.
“I need a drink.”
***
Three drinks in, the apartment is a hollow version of itself; once vibrant and lived-in, now sterile, stripped of everything that made it mine.
The silence is thick.
My footsteps echo off marble tile, the designer rugs already rolled and packed. The fridge hums like it’s the only thing left with a pulse.
I pour whatever’s still here, wine maybe rum,into a half-cleaned glass from a bar cart that hasn’t seen action since my birthday, and sink to the floor cross-legged, contract in hand, future unraveling around me.
There’s no clause about children. No heir requirement. No expectations laid out in neat bullet points.
My heart sighs in relief.
It’s just a merger.
A sentence without meaning.
But he still owns me.
And tomorrow, I fly into the lion’s mouth.
I sigh and set down the contract. I move over to my windowsill, where, tucked inside a little wooden box, lay the Burmese rubies I once smuggled in, back when I was allowed to roam.
And make my own name.
They glimmer in the moonlight, a fiery red that holds a familiar stubbornness.
Like me.
I lift one up, feeling its weight and the sense of accomplishment it brought.
“Why are you doing this to me, Angelo?” I ask the ruby aloud.
I’m talking to a gemstone now. I must be losing my mind
A knock at the door pulls me from the silence.
I check my phone. Midnight.
Wait.
I freeze.
Only one person knocks like that.
I open the door and find Rafael leaning against the frame, a bottle of wine dangling from his hand, familiar grin tugging at his lips.
“For old times’ sake?” he asks.
Temptation in a leather jacket.
