Chapter 11.
The room was empty.
The bed was made with military precision. Like nobody had ever slept in it.
The closet door hung open. A few expensive pieces were still hanging inside–clothes she or the Ashford family had bought for him, things he’d barely ever worn. Every single one of his own plain, simple items was gone.
He hadn’t taken anything with him.
Nothing but himself.
Adrienne’s eyes swept the room and landed on the trash can in the corner.
A few torn pieces of photo paper sat at the bottom. She walked over, crouched down, and started piecing them together.
It was the only photo the two of them had ever taken together.
Five years ago, right after he had been brought back to the Ashford Family, he had stood timidly beside her at a family gathering, forcing a small smile for the camera. In that photo, there was still a careful, fragile hope in his eyes. A light.
Now that photo had been ripped apart by his own hands and thrown in the trash.
Adrienne’s fingers clenched the scraps so hard her knuckles went white. The torn edges cut into her fingertips.
She stumbled over to the nightstand and yanked open the drawer.
A few books. That was all.
She flipped through them one by one. Nothing.
Unwilling to give up, she pulled open the bottom drawer.
An old tin box sat quietly inside.
Adrienne’s heart skipped a beat.
She lifted the box out, fingers unsteady, and opened the lid.
There was not much inside, but every single thing in there cut into her like a dull blade, stinging her eyes and piercing her heart.
On top was a shriveled, yellowed wet wipe packet.
She stared at it for a few seconds before it hit her. It was from his very first day back at the Ashford Estate, when he had been standing there in his muddy shoes, stiff and uncomfortable. She’d crouched down, grabbed a wet wipe, and cleaned off the mud on his sneakers. This was the empty packet.
He had actually kept it all this time.
Underneath was a cheap watch. The plating had started to tarnish.
The first birthday gift she’d ever given him.
Back then she was still furious about Desmond being sent away, still taking it out on him. She had grabbed it at the mall without a second thought, not even paying attention to the design.
But he had treated it like something precious and wore it constantly.
And he’d kept it here.
Under the watch was a piece of paper, crumpled hard and then carefully smoothed flat
“Mom told Desmond his suit looked good today. I have one just like it, but she didn’t look at me. It’s fine. One step at a time.”
“She’s staring at Desmond’s photo again. Am I ever going to be able to replace him?”
The further she got into the journal, the messier his handwriting got. The despair bled through harder and harder.
“They said to let Desmond come home. I watched the way Adrienne looked at him, and I knew that I had lost, completely and utterly.”
“Adrienne is pregnant, but her first instinct was to end it because Desmond would be upset. What about me? What about our baby?” “She said to hit him once for fifty grand. Adrienne, you are truly brutal.”
“I’ll take the fall for Desmond. Fine. Clean break.”
The last entry was dated today, containing just one line written so hard that it almost tore through the page.
“Today I finally get to leave. Dad, Mom, Adrienne, goodbye. No, I am never seeing you again.”
Drip.
A warm drop hit the journal, blurring the ink.
Adrienne slowly lifted her hand, feeling the cold wetness covering her face.
She was crying?
She was actually crying.
She was crying for the person she had pushed away with her own hands, the one she had left battered and broken, and who was now gone to an unknown place.

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