CHAPTER THREE - ASHES AND IVY

VALENTINE

There's a heaviness in the air this morning. The kind that wraps around you like invisible rope, pulling tighter with every breath. I stand at my bedroom window, fingers brushing the worn curtain, watching the driveway below. A polished mini cooper rawls through the gates. Keira.

I don't move. Not yet. Let her wait.

My reflection stares back at me in the glass—hair curled tight and clipped back, navy-blue dress fitted too perfectly. Krystal insisted I wear it. Said it made me look respectable. Presentable. Whatever that means.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk downstairs. My heels click across the cold marble, sharp and final. Like punctuation.

Eden is already at the breakfast bar, crisp in his white shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the watch that probably costs more than most people's tuition. Krystal's seated with a black coffee, lipstick perfect. Always perfect.

"She's here," I say.

Neither of them reacts. It's like I didn't speak at all.

Eden finally folds his paper. "You could've told us you were leaving this early."

I blink. "I did. A week ago."

Krystal exhales slowly, like I've disappointed her again. "Still. A proper goodbye wouldn't have been too much to ask."

I laugh under my breath. "I'm not disappearing. Just going to college."

Eden finally looks at me, and I brace myself. That stare—it always feels like he's measuring what I owe.

"You know, Val," he says, voice low and clipped, "most kids don't get what you've had here. A roof. A name. A family. We gave you everything."

There it is. The unspoken debt. Like every meal, every breath I've taken in this house came with a price tag.

"I didn't have to take you in," he adds. "But I did. Because you were blood. Don't forget that."

Krystal sets her cup down, a soft clink against porcelain. "We made sacrifices, Valentine. You owe us your future."

I stiffen but say nothing. I've learned not to argue. There's no winning when the conversation starts with what you were "given."

Just then, the front door creaks open. Keira steps inside, sunlight spilling behind her. She looks out of place in this house of polished stone and sharper people.

"Hi," she says, voice a little unsure. "Sorry I'm early."

Eden barely acknowledges her. Krystal's smile is too tight to mean anything.

"So," Krystal says with a sweet-venom tone, "this is the person helping you run away."

Keira blinks, caught off guard. "I—no, I'm just here to—"

"I asked her to come," I cut in. "It was my decision."

Keira glances at me, and then back to them. "We both got into Imperial. On scholarship. We worked for it."

Eden chuckles under his breath. "Scholarship or not, let's see how far that takes you without our name behind you."

My jaw clenches. "I don't need your name. I've been wearing it like a shackle since I was seven."

That earns me silence. Cold and sharp.

Krystal finally stands and smooths invisible wrinkles from her skirt. "I hope they teach you gratitude wherever you're going."

"They teach survival," I say. "I think I've had a head start on that."

Keira moves closer to the door, uncomfortable in the tension. I follow.

"Valentine," Eden calls as my hand hits the doorknob.

I turn, only slightly.

"Don't forget where you came from," he says. "And don't come crawling back when the world eats you alive."

I meet his gaze. "Where I came from is exactly why I'm leaving."

And with that, I walk out. No tears. No looking back.

Keira and I don't speak until we're inside her car and halfway down the tree-lined drive. Then she glances at me and asks, "You okay?"

"No," I admit, watching the Danbury estate shrink behind us. "But I'm free."

And for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I'm lying