Rhys gripped his phone and stopped dead in his tracks.
Graham had already pulled open the car door.
The two exchanged a look.
Rhys glanced down at the flight itinerary in his hand.
9:15 a.m.
Then he looked at the wall clock.
9:08 a.m.
Seven minutes.
He closed his eyes for a moment, shoved the itinerary into his pocket, and hurried outside.
“Let’s head back to the ballroom first.”
Graham froze.
“But what about Sloane—”
“It’s too late.”
Rhys pulled open the car door.
“The airport’s forty minutes away. She’s boarding in seven minutes.”
“Tahlee’s passed out!”
“If we don’t go back, who’s gonna take care of her?”
Graham rested his hand on the steering wheel but didn’t move.
Rhys looked at him.
“You wanna go after her?”
Graham slammed his fist against the steering wheel.
Then he started the engine.
He turned the car around.
Back to the ballroom.
Thirty minutes later, they arrived.
Tahlee had already been taken to a private lounge.
The doctor said it was hyperventilation syndrome, not a heart condition.
When she woke up, the first thing she asked was,
“Where’s Sloane?”
“Why isn’t the music playing?”
Mom wrapped her arms around Tahlee.
“Forget about her.”
“Today’s your big day.”
Rhys stood in the doorway without going inside.
He took out his phone and called my number again.
Her phone was off.
He checked the flight status.
9:15 a.m. Flight to Paris.
Status: Departed.
He stared at the screen for a long time.
Graham walked over.
“She really left?”
Rhys didn’t answer.
Graham leaned against the wall and looked down at the heart-rate-monitoring smartwatch on his wrist.
The red warning light had gone out.
Tahlee’s heart rate was back to normal.
But suddenly, he couldn’t stand the sight of that watch.
Tahlee came back out of the lounge in a different outfit.
Her pearl tiara sat a little crooked, so Mom reached over and straightened it.
“Look at you! You’re gorgeous!”
“Come on, let’s retake those photos.”
Tahlee smiled.
Sweetly.
But there was someone missing from the family portrait.
No one mentioned it.
As if she’d never needed to be there in the first place.
That evening, the whole family returned to the Fontaine family estate.
In the living room, Tahlee was unwrapping gifts from the guests while Rhys kept her company.
Dad sat in his study, smoking one cigarette after another as he stared at the suspension notice from the legal department.
Mom knocked on my bedroom door and pushed it open.
Empty.
The clothes hangers were bare, and the bookshelves had been cleared.
Even the pothos plant on the windowsill, the one she couldn’t remember who had been watering, was gone.
Only a cardboard box remained.
She crouched down and opened it.
The bracelet Graham had given me.
The earrings from Rhys.
The watch from Dad.
Everything was there.
Not a single thing was missing.
At the very bottom lay a note.
“I’m giving all of this back to you. The only thing I took was myself.”
Mom sat on my empty bed, holding the note.
She sat there in a daze for a long time.
Then she picked up her phone and opened our message thread.
Her last message to me was from three days ago.
“What color are you wearing to your 18th birthday gala? Mom will help you pick.”
I’d never replied.
At the time, she’d assumed I was throwing another tantrum.
Only now did she realize that I’d already been packing my bags that day.