Chapter 259

Chapter 259:

“You love the memory of me.” Eliza stood. “The girl who needed you. The victim.” She took a step closer, but kept her distance. “I’m not that girl anymore, Anson. I’m a woman. And I love Dallas.” Her voice didn’t waver. “He sees me. He doesn’t want to save me — he wants to stand with me p>

Anson flinched. The words struck him like a physical blow.

He rose abruptly and walked toward her. For a moment he looked dangerous, his hands clenched into fists. Eliza held her ground.

Then he collapsed. He pulled her into a hug — a desperate, crushing embrace — and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her, committing it to memory not as a keepsake, but as fuel.

“He won’t make you happy,” Anson whispered into her hair. The pleading was gone from his voice now, replaced by something colder — the tone of a man making a prophecy. “He is a machine, Eliza. Machines break. And when he breaks, he will crush you p>

“He won’t,” Eliza said, pulling back. She did not return the embrace.

Anson held her arms a moment longer than necessary. He looked into her eyes, and what lived there was not the grief of a man walking away. Anson wasn’t walking away.

“You think this is freedom,” he said, his eyes dark and hollow. “But it’s just a longer leash. Go with him. Go see how cold his world really is.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a quiet, terrifying murmur. “And when he fails you — and he will — don’t worry about where to go. I’ll be right here. Waiting to pick up the pieces. Just like I always have p>

“Goodbye, Anson,” Eliza said, feeling a chill move through her despite her resolve.

She turned and walked back toward the house. She could feel his eyes on her back — burning, dissecting, waiting.

Anson watched her go. The white suit glowed in the twilight. He lowered himself back onto the swing and pushed off, moving alone through the darkening garden.

𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗇

He didn’t cry anymore. He pulled out his phone.

“She’s gone,” he muttered to himself. “For now p>

He didn’t delete her number. Instead, he opened a hidden folder on his phone labeled Surveillance.

“I won’t let you off that easy, Dallas,” Anson whispered to the empty night. “You better watch your back. Because the moment you slip, I’m taking her back p>

The Rolls Royce glided down the highway, the privacy partition raised, sealing them in a cocoon of leather and silence.

Dallas was driving. He had dismissed the chauffeur earlier. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white, and the speedometer needle was creeping higher than usual.

Eliza watched him. His jaw was set hard.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“He hugged you,” Dallas said flatly. He didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed fixed on the road.

“You saw p>

“I watched from the window,” Dallas said. “He held you for twelve seconds. I counted p>

“It was a goodbye hug, Dallas.” Eliza reached for his hand on the gear shift.

He pulled it away before she could touch him. “He smelled your hair. I saw it. He buried his face in your neck p>