Chapter 223

Chapter 223:

The first rays of dawn were painting the penthouse in shades of grey and rose when Eliza’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a new device — a sleek, encrypted model Dallas had given her the day after the cemetery — its screen a stark, unfamiliar black. She stirred, the warmth of Dallas’s arm still heavy and comforting across her waist. The memory of the previous night, of their shared vulnerability, was a fragile shield she wanted to hide behind forever. But the phone buzzed again, insistent.

She carefully slid out from under his arm, her bare feet cold against the floor. The screen lit up with a blocked, untraceable number. She knew, with a sickening certainty, who it was.

I know what Dallas is hiding about your mother. The truth. If you want to hear it, meet me. The park near your old place. 10 a.m.

A second text followed immediately.

If you don’t come, I’ll find a way to deliver the message at the penthouse.

A threat dressed as a revelation. Eliza’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked back at Dallas, sleeping soundly, a faint purple bruise still visible on his temple from the accident. He looked peaceful, and she couldn’t bear to shatter that peace with Anson’s poison.

𝖥𝗶n𝘥 𝘯𝗈𝘃е𝗹 PD𝖥𝗌 𝗈𝗇

But the seed had already been planted. What Dallas is hiding. This had to end — on her terms.

An hour later, after telling the Sentinel guard stationed in the hall that she was going for a walk to clear her head, she was sitting on a park bench near her old apartment, in the secluded spot where the city noise faded to a dull hum. She checked her phone.

I’m making dinner. Don’t be late.

The text was from Dallas. Domestic. Simple. It made her chest ache with a sharp, sudden longing to be there — in the warmth of the penthouse — instead of here, waiting for a ghost.

Anson arrived five minutes late.

He didn’t look like the polished heir of the Hyde dynasty. His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes rimmed red, as though he hadn’t slept in days. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze locking onto her face like a starving man spotting bread.

“You came,” he said. His voice was rough. Hope flickered in his eyes — pathetic and terrifying in equal measure.

Eliza didn’t stand. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small velvet box. “I came to give you this p>

She held it out. Inside was the promise ring he had given her when she was eighteen — a diamond chip on a thin gold band. It used to look like a promise. Now it looked like a shackle.

Anson stared at the box but didn’t take it. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want it back. I want you p>

“Anson, I’m married,” Eliza said. Her voice was steady, stripped of the tremor that used to appear whenever she spoke to him. She raised her left hand.

The afternoon sun caught the custom diamond ring Dallas had placed there. It flashed — bright and unforgiving.

Anson stared at the ring. He didn’t scream. He didn’t lunge. He laughed — a dry, hollow sound, like dead leaves scraping across pavement. “Married?” He tilted his head. “To Koch? Legally p>

“Yes. It’s done p>

Anson sat down heavily at the other end of the bench and rubbed his face with both hands. “You ruined the timeline, El p>