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I let out a ragged, hollow sound. That didn’t sound like a solid plan at all. I tried to not go down the rabbit hole of how long it had taken her to adjust and choose to live after her childhood trauma.

That thought gut me.

“I sent Marcus to the house to grab a bag for you. It’s probably best if you stay at the old house for a few days. At least until things blow over with Sebastian.”

Damn. Just when I thought the pain couldn’t get worse. It did. Nobody wanted me around. The old house didn’t have the same magic—the same memories.

Sure, my old bedroom would still be there. But she’d never been in that bed. The new house was where Bella and I had fallen in love.

Slowly. A little at a time. One heartbeat at a time.

I slumped in my chair and nodded once. I don’t know why. Maybe because if I opened my mouth, I would shatter right there in the hallway. Marcel squeezed my shoulder before disappearing back through the double doors. I watched them swing shut behind him.

They might as well have been the gates to another world. Because my soul was on one side. And an empty vessel was on this side. Marcus found me several minutes later. Or maybe an hour. Time had stopped making sense.

“You ready?”

No, I never would be.

“Come on, brother. Let’s get you settled in,” Marcus said, taking the hospital discharge papers from my hand when I didn’t answer.

The drive passed in complete silence. Rain had started somewhere along the way. It streaked across the windshield in uneven lines while all of London blurred into little more than lights and shadows.

When the gates to the old estate opened, a new level of dejection took over. The mansion stood exactly as it always had. Nothing had changed. Except everything had. Marcus parked near the entrance.

Neither of us moved. Finally, he reached over and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ve got a small staff set up. I’m going to stay with you. Keep an eye on you.”

As much as it stung that the family didn’t want me, his words meant the world to me. Even if it was just a tiny sliver of relief, I appreciated him.

“Thank you, Brother.”

I climbed out of the SUV on legs that barely felt attached to my body. The front doors opened before we reached them. Branson was there with a forlorn look on his face.

The hallway blurred. Voices drifted around me. Someone took the bags from Marcus. Someone asked if I needed anything. I heard every word. I answered none of them, just headed to my room.

When I got there, I stopped in the doorway. Everything seemed the familiar. The bed was made. The room was immaculate. It was cold and empty. A mirror image of me.

I stepped inside and closed the door. The silence was deafening. This morning life had been amazing, full of potential. Tonight, I couldn’t even bring myself to sit on the edge of my own bed.

My knees gave out first. I hit the floor hard, the pain in my ribs barely registering.

“I’ll be here—”

I jerked, and my head rose. Marcus’s words cut off.

The last dam of self-control ceased to exist. My heart broke into a million pieces. My body bent forward until my forehead nearly hit my knees. The sound that ripped out of my throat was foreign.

It was nothing more than a raw, jagged, wounded shriek. An animalistic noise, vibrating with an agony so absolute it felt as those my bones were splintering from the pressure.

I buried my face into my open palms, my teeth digging hard into the meat of my thumb to choke back the next wave. But it was useless. The grief took over.

I wept until the skin around my eyes burned like fire. Tremors racked my jaw, my teeth chattering together in an erratic, uncontrolled rhythm. The agony stripped away every single layer of defense I had. There was zero dignity left in me.

Just total, irreversible devastation.

The next day