Revenge Is Sweet When Love Dies

Elisabeth Hall POV:

I was rescued by a couple of construction workers who saw the crash from the road. They dove in and pulled me from the wreckage just as I was losing consciousness.

The news report the next day called Blake a hero for saving the "traumatized" Kris Gray. My name was a footnote, the "other passenger, also rescued."

I was done.

Done being the understanding girlfriend.

Done being the safe harbor.

Done being the footnote in my own tragedy.

When I was discharged from the hospital two days later, bruised and battered but alive, I went home and packed my bags. My father, furious and finally seeing Blake for who he was, had already booked my flight to London for that night.

The final, grotesque act of our story unfolded with the precision of a Greek tragedy.

I was zipping my last suitcase when Kris showed up at my house, screaming. She was holding the lifeless, limp body of the neighbor's kitten.

"You killed it!" she shrieked, her face a mess of tears and rage. "It was in your yard! You ran it over! You're a monster!"

Before I could even process the insane accusation, she ran past me into the house, up to the second-floor landing that overlooked the foyer, and threw herself off.

At that exact, perfectly timed moment, Blake walked in the front door.

He saw her fall and made a perfect, heroic catch, stumbling back as he absorbed her weight.

"She pushed me!" Kris wailed into his chest, clinging to him. "She tried to kill me! She blames me for the accident!"

Blake looked up at me, standing at the top of the stairs, my suitcase in my hand. His face was a mask of cold, righteous fury.

This was the final straw for him. My "erratic" behavior, my "jealousy"—it had finally culminated in this monstrous act. In his twisted logic, I had become the villain who was trying to destroy his perfect life.

"She's lying, Blake!" I pleaded, my voice shaking. "She jumped!"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" he roared, his voice echoing in the foyer.

He was terrified. Not of me, but of the chaos I now represented. The chaos that was threatening to derail his perfect, pre-planned future. He had to restore order. He had to control me.

He pulled out his phone.

"I'm giving you one last chance," he said, his voice chillingly calm, his eyes hard as stone. "Apologize to Kris and tell me you'll get help. We can fix this, Lis. We can go back to how we were."

It was the ultimate ultimatum. Surrender my truth, my sanity, my very reality, for the sake of his comfort.

I looked at the stranger who wore the face of the boy I once loved, and for the first time, I felt nothing but a cold, empty void where my heart used to be.

"No," I whispered.

"Fine," he said, his voice hard with a certainty that was both righteous and twisted. "You brought this on yourself. I'm doing this for your own good."

He dialed 9-1-1.

"Yes, I'd like to report an assault," he said, his voice steady and clear, never breaking eye contact with me. "My... my girlfriend, Elisabeth Hall, just pushed another girl off a second-story balcony. She needs to be stopped."

The cold, hard metal of the handcuffs clicking around my wrists was the last sound of my old life.

My father's lawyers, a team of legal sharks, made the charges disappear within hours.

When I walked out of the police precinct, Blake was waiting on the steps, a desperate, hopeful look on his face. He thought his "tough love" had worked. He thought I was broken, ready to be his perfect, compliant fiancée again.

I walked past him without a single word and got into the black town car my father had sent.

He followed me home, pulling his truck into the driveway behind us. A moving truck was already there, men loading boxes into the back.

"What's going on?" he demanded, panic finally, truly cracking his arrogant facade. "Lis, what is this?"

"I'm going to London," I said, my voice flat and calm.

That night, on the private jet soaring across the Atlantic, I took out my phone. I found his name in my contacts. Blake.

And with a single, steady tap, I deleted him. I blocked his number. I went through every social media app and erased him from every corner of my life.

When the plane landed at Heathrow, for the first time in over a year, I felt like I could finally breathe.