?Chapter 1315:


    Onest look. His face didn’t change.


    Nina took a shaky breath, then another, and turned away. She walked out, shoulders stiff with shame and heartbreak, each step heavier than thest.


    She couldn’t stay there—not when every second reminded her how foolish she’d been to believe he’d ever looked at her with anything more than tolerance.


    The door closed behind her with a soft click. Outside, the night air hit her like a p. Cold wind scraped across her damp cheeks, like the world itself was pointing out how alone she really was.


    He wouldn’t be with her. Not as a lover. Not even as a friend.


    She covered her face with one hand, trying to catch her breath, but the sobs broke through anyway—harsh, uncontroble.


    She walked blindly through the dark until her heel caught on the curb, and she fell hard onto the pavement. Pain shot up her leg, her knee stinging from the scrape.


    Under the pale glow of the moon, Nina sat there on the sidewalk, crying without restraint. No more pride to save. No more masks to wear.


    When the tears finally slowed, she pushed herself up, wiped her face with trembling fingers, and pulled out her phone. She dialed Arlo.


    If William wouldn’t love her… if he wouldn’t even hate her enough to keep her close…


    Then she’d make sure Ste didn’t get to stay by his side either.


    Her fingers curled tight around the phone. In her eyes now, there was no warmth left—just a quiet, sharp fury.


    If everyone already saw her as the viin, she might as well y the part to the end.


    After Nina left, silence crept back into the vi like a heavy fog. William stood in the hallway for a moment, brows furrowed, the lingering scent of her perfume still clinging to the air.


    That overly sweet Chanel No. 5 always made him tense up, though he’d never said it aloud. He hated perfumes—especially ones like that.


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    With a sigh, he rubbed his temples.


    But just as he started to shake off the irritation, a muffled sound floated down from upstairs. Soft, broken sobs. Faint, but relentless. It was Ste.


    Not the shrill dramatics Nina was known for, but small, stifled hups—like a kitten mewling in pain. It scraped at the edges of his calm in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.


    He had thought she would fall asleep once he locked her in the bedroom. But he had been wrong. Even alcohol was not enough to calm her.


    He told himself to ignore it. She was faking it. It was all an act. She could cry all night for all he cared. He wasn’t going to be fooled again. Not this time.


    But his feet moved anyway. He climbed the stairs slowly, step by step, each one tightening the knot in his chest.


    The bedroom door was ajar, and the soft glow from the wall sconce cast long shadows across the floor. Ste was curled up on the bed, a ck gown draped awkwardly around her small frame, like it didn’t belong to her body.


    She looked impossibly fragile, tucked into the corner with her knees pulled to her chest. Her shoulders trembled with each hup. She hadn’t noticed him yet.


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