Seven Days to Vanish：Escaping My Vampire Prince

Three days left.

I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection.

Long black hair, perfect makeup, the diamond necklace Clarence gave me… all of it so perfect, so false.

My phone buzzed again.

Another photo from Seraphina in Paris, this one of her in Clarence’s arms in front of the Eiffel Tower.

“He said only the romance of Paris is worthy of me. This is more exciting to him than any of your anniversaries.”

I ignored it and contacted my advisor at the vampire bank.

“Lady Thorne. A pleasure to serve you.”

“I need to transfer all my personal assets anonymously. It needs to be done today.”

Two days left.

I met Maria for a final goodbye. She was my only real friend.

“Molly, you don’t seem… right,” she said, her eyes full of concern.

“I’m leaving New York,” I stated simply.

“On a trip?”

“For good.”

Maria paused, then nodded. “I understand. Do you need my help?”

This is why I loved her. She never pried, only offered support.

“No. But…” I handed her a small package. “This is for you.”

She opened it to find some of my personal jewelry. “Molly, this is too much…”

“No. It’s a gift for a true friend.” I hugged her. “Take care of yourself, Maria.”

As I left the museum, another message from Seraphina arrived.

“He bought me this castle at an auction tonight. Isn’t it gorgeous? You should enjoy your last few days as Lady Thorne while you still can.”

I blocked her number.

The final day.

At 3 a.m., the castle was as silent as a tomb.

I stood in my art studio, looking at the canvases that documented five hundred years of my life. Each one had once made my immortal existence feel meaningful.

Now, they just looked like gilded cages.

The people from a human charity arrived at four on the dot. I sold them every painting, every piece of jewelry, every gown, and had the money anonymously donated to the slums.

After they left, I took one last box to an incinerator outside the city.

One by one, I pulled out the items that held my past: the first sketch I ever drew of him, the love letters he wrote me, the souvenirs from our honeymoon… I threw them all into the fire.

The flames danced in the darkness, devouring every trace of Molly Thorne.

Molly Thorne died in that fire.

As dawn broke, I appeared at the arranged meeting point with the witch.

Just as I arrived, my phone rang. It was Clarence.

“My love! I’m on my way back!” His voice was excited. “Paris business wrapped up sooner than expected. I’ll be home soon. I can’t wait for that surprise gift of yours.”

A surprise.

It would certainly be a surprise.

“I’m waiting for you,” I said, my tone as sweet as it had always been.

“I love you, Molly. Wait for me.”

I hung up and handed the phone—Molly’s phone, and everything else that tied me to my old life—to the waiting witch.

She placed a withered hand on my forehead and began to chant in an ancient tongue.

“From now on, you are the human, Celeste.”