Chapter 7: The Edge of Goodbye

The next day, I left the Sterling estate.

I slipped out before dawn, the city still wrapped in mist.

Before long, I was captured by Rachel’s people. She acted fast. There was no way she’d let anyone else give birth to Michael’s firstborn—her family’s interests were at stake, and it would make her a laughingstock.

They took me to a cliff outside the city, planning to fake my escape and accidental death.

The wind whipped at my hair, the ground crumbling beneath my feet.

I stared down at the rocks below, heart pounding.

But Michael arrived quickly—dressed in red, on horseback. Rachel followed in her wedding dress. A crowd trailed behind, the scene grand and chaotic.

The sight was surreal—like something out of a Southern tragedy.

I sat on a shattered carriage, teetering on the edge of the cliff. One wrong move, and I’d fall to my death.

The wood creaked beneath me, the drop dizzying.

“Lena, don’t move!” Michael walked toward me, wanting to save me.

His voice was raw, desperate. I saw the panic in his eyes, and for a moment, I almost believed he cared.

I took a step back and smiled at him. “Michael, take one more step and I’ll jump.”

My words were calm, but my heart raced. I meant every syllable.

Michael stopped, eyes bloodshot. “Lena, don’t move.”

His hands shook, knuckles white. The crowd murmured, the tension thick as molasses.

I touched my belly and sighed, “When we first met, you were nearly dead in the rain. I saved you, told you your life was mine now, and you had to listen to me. Since we married, I may not have been perfect, but I never wronged you. I just never expected you to be so heartless. Our marriage ends here.”

My voice broke, but I held my head high.

“Lena, come back with me—I’ll explain everything.” Michael took another step forward.

His words trembled, hope flickering in his eyes.

I laughed, “So I can be your mistress? Be Rachel Covington’s servant? I may be a country girl, but I have my pride.”

I spat the words, daring him to deny it.

I thought for a moment, then asked, “Michael, what’s your real name?”

The question caught him off guard.

Michael’s eyes lit up with hope. He answered quickly, “Julian Sterling, Lena, my name is Julian Sterling.”

His voice was soft, almost pleading.

“Good, Julian Sterling.” I smiled. “Let’s never meet again in this life. If I see the Devil in the next, I’ll make sure he knows—I, Lena, never want to see Julian Sterling again.”

With that, I jumped.

The wind roared in my ears, the world spinning. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

Freedom, of course, always comes with a price.