Page 44 of Saving You Losing Me

I can’t wrap my mind around what’s happening and as she turns away, she says softly, “Have a good life. Promise me you’ll forget about me and find happiness. That’s all I want.”

I say nothing and as she walks away, I stare at her retreating figure and caress the burning ball of hatred inside me that is growing by the second. Never again will I let a woman past my defenses. Clara may as well have stabbed me in the heart because there is nothing left inside me. I am dead to emotion. All I have left is anger and a burning need to be as far away from her as is humanly possible.

CHAPTER 23

CLARA

Iam a broken woman. As I walk away, I’m amazed I can remain standing. If Atom pulled me back to face him, he would see the pain I can no longer contain. Tears stream down my face that I let fall. I don’t attempt to brush them away because he can’t see how affected I am by my speech.

I had to do it that way. He has to hate me because if he suspected a thing, he would go after Michael. It would start a war and he would be a casualty of that. I know that as a fact because Michael and his family don’t play by the rules.

I had to break Atom to save him and now I must live with my decision.

Somehow, I stumble back to the house and as I enter through the side door, mom is waiting for me.

I hold up my hand. “Don’t say a fucking word.”

Her horrified expression is inconsequential. I have no respect for my parents anymore and they may as well be dead to me. To sacrifice my happiness for theirs is a huge price to demand for giving a person life and right in this moment, if I never saw them again, I would consider it a win.

I move past her stricken face and head to my room, where I lock the door behind me and slide down to the floor. I amempty, hollow inside, and it hurts so much. It’s a physical pain inside my entire soul and I sob angry, desperate tears, for the happiness I once had. It was brief but must last me a lifetime because I’ve made an enemy of the only man I have ever—or will ever—love.

I clutch my knees to my chest and sob my heart out, my tears a waterfall of grief that has no ending. In saving Atom, I have sacrificed my soul to the devil and I must learn to navigate a path through hell just to survive.

I’m not sure how long I sit in a heap on the floor, but a gentle knock at the door is followed by a soft, “Clara. I’m so sorry. Please open the door.”

“GO AWAY!” I yell, fury replacing grief and mom says quickly, “We must leave in an hour. The party - Michael, they are waiting.”

“Let them fucking wait.”

I thump the door in frustration and kick it several times, all the time wishing it was her betraying face.

“Clara, please. You’ve come so far. We can make this work. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Her pleading falls on deaf ears and as the flame grows inside me, I feel the hatred burning me from within.

I hate them all and if they want the perfect fiancé, wife and daughter, they will have to live with they created. Be careful what you wish for because sometimes reality is an entirely different nightmare from the dream you thought you were getting.

With venom in my heart, I shut down. Emotion is fast giving way to anger and as I crawl to my feet, I take in a deep ragged breath. I will make them all pay, but will bide my time. One day I will be free and it will be on my terms. It’s too late for Atom and me, but I willnotbe my mother and I willnotlive the rest of my life chained to a man like Michael Santobello.

Somehow,I dress for a party. My chosen color is black and my mood is dark. Be careful what you wish for because Michael is about to discover some wishes taint your soul and destroy your life and if he wants a wife, he will get the one he deserves.

My parents escort me into the room like a sacrifice. One on either side of me, silent, guilty and unapologetic now their plan has worked. They believe I’ll come around to the situation. Make the best of a bad situation and make it work. I will never give any of them that satisfaction. I am dead inside.

Two men step forward to greet us and I maintain my indifference.

“Clara.” Charles Santobello regards me with a cruel smile, but Michael’s is warm and welcoming and slightly apologetic.

“Clara, you are beautiful.” He whispers as he kisses me on both cheeks, a flicker of despair on his face as I visibly recoil.

His father says abruptly, “Michael, take Clara and find her a drink. We have a toast to make.”

It’s as if I’m an automaton as I allow him to guide me to the set of French doors at the end of the room and I follow him through them, wondering how long I’m expected to remain here.

“Clara.”

He sounds hesitant, ashamed even.

“This wasn’t my idea, I swear.”

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