Chapter 4: What Remains After the Fall

For seven days, nightmares made my sleep a battlefield.

Seven nights of waking up with salty tears drying on my cheeks. Sometimes I reached for my phone, forgetting it wasn’t there—wishing I could text Chloe, wishing for the old days on the foster home rooftop, watching fireworks and daring the world to break us apart.

When I finally woke, I felt weak, heavy—like grief had settled in my bones.

Derek sat beside me, keeping silent watch.

His jacket was slung over the chair, a cold styrofoam coffee cup on the side table. His aftershave was a faint, familiar comfort.

His eyes were red, guilt carved deep in the lines of his face.

He tried to keep his emotions locked down, but today, the cracks showed. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

He knew how much Chloe meant to me—yet he was partly to blame for pushing her to her breaking point.

It was a betrayal that cut deeper than politics or blood. He knew it, and he knew I knew it.

Chloe died on the day he threw Anna a birthday party, giving her the title of "Special Advisor."

The title was empty, but the party was full of powerful people. Streamers, a jazz band—the whole thing felt obscene now.

Before that, Chloe had brought him the token he’d given her when he became governor and asked for a divorce.

She held it tight, knuckles white. That token—a family heirloom—was supposed to be her ticket to freedom.

Derek refused her.

He turned away, voice cold. Said it wasn’t the time, called her dramatic. But he was really protecting Anna—and himself.

Even though that token was his promise—a promise Chloe had earned by saving his life.

She’d dragged him out of a burning car once. The papers ran with it for weeks. That token meant, ‘whatever you want, it’s yours.’

But to protect Anna’s reputation, he shut Chloe out, letting the world believe the worst of her.

When Chloe died, her blood stained Anna’s dress. Anna whimpered, hiding in Derek’s arms. He held her tight, comforting her gently.

It was reflex, almost unconscious. People talked for weeks—how he consoled Anna, not the woman who died for him.

Only when our eyes met did Derek seem to realize—the woman who’d died was the one who’d risked everything for him.

His face crumpled. He let Anna go, like she’d burned him.

He stood lost in the chaos, suddenly helpless.

He wanted to say something, but I shut him out.

My hands shook as I turned away, shutting him out.

I walked forward, wiped the blood from Chloe’s face with my sleeve, and took the token from her neck.

Her skin was still warm, her hair tangled. I tried not to think about the last time we’d laughed together.

"Wait for me a little longer. What we are owed, we must reclaim before we leave."

I whispered it for her ears only. I owed her that much.

Chloe and I grew up in the same foster home. She was always the brave one, the girl who’d sneak out with me to watch fireworks, who could turn any place into home.

I was different. I held onto grudges, let them simmer.

Clenching my fists to keep my rage in check, I left without looking at anyone.

I didn’t trust myself to speak—if I started, I might never stop.

I left Derek behind, silent. He watched me go, hands shaking. It was a small, bitter comfort.

From that day, I shut the doors to the mansion and let sickness swallow me.

I turned off my phone, unplugged the landline, ignored the world. Let it spin without me.

Now, Derek sat beside me, lost.

He kept trying to speak, then closing his mouth again. He almost reached for me, but my cold stare stopped him.

He looked small, like a kid caught lying.

"Don’t you need to go comfort Anna? She’s the kind who sobs if you so much as raise your voice. Chloe, who saved your life, is dead—but Anna was frightened."

My words landed hard. He flinched, no answer ready.

Derek’s voice was rough, pleading. “Rachel, don’t be like this.”

I let him feel what it’s like to be left unheard.

In the past, when he called me by name, I’d fall back into line. Not anymore.

This time, I gave him only silence.

The clock ticked, loud as thunder. I counted each second he failed to understand.

Derek, unable to get my understanding, hesitated for a long while before trying again: "Anna... didn’t mean it. I’ve put her under house arrest, you..."

His excuses were so tired I could say them for him. I’d heard them from men all my life. It always came down to protecting the wrong person.

I didn’t want to hear another word. I hurled the medicine bowl at him.

The crash echoed down the hall. Herbal tea soaked his jacket, staining it dark.

He stared at the mess, then at me—shocked, like he’d never seen me angry.

"Get out," I said, my voice cold as ice. For once, I didn’t care if I looked cruel. Let him see what it’s like to be left behind.

Staff froze in the doorway. Derek set his jaw, straightened up, and left, leaving a trail of wet footprints.

The door slammed, the pictures rattled. I didn’t watch him go.