Page 115 of The Devil's Canvas

Ophelia recoils. “No. Don’t say that.”

Bella meets my gaze. “It’s my name on the scroll. It’s my signature in blood. It doesn’t matter how it got here, or if I asked for it. It’s me.”

“No, it’s not,” Rosalind snaps. “It was never supposed to be.”

“It’s always someone,” Bella says, voice soft. “And I’d rather it be me than—”

“No,” Rhys says, stepping forward like the word costs him. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Bella turns to him, and her composure cracks, just a little.

“I was going to ask you to marry me,” Rhys says. “I had the ring. I had the words. You don’t get to just give yourself up.”

Her eyes flood with tears, but she blinks them back. “Rhys, I love you. But this isn’t a choice. It’s already written.”

Ophelia shakes her head, frantic. “We rewrite it.”

“I’m going to fix this,” I say, already feeling the beginning of a plan start to form in the back of my mind. “There’s a way to break it. There has to be.”

"Do it, demon," Rhys says, stomping towards me.

"Stop! This isn't his fault, Rhys," Ophelia says.

Rhys looks at Ophelia like he doesn’t even recognize her.

“You left,” he says. No rage yet—just the tremor in his voice. “You disappeared. No call. No note. Just gone.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’tmean?” His voice spikes. “You didn’tmeanto vanish while Bella cried herself to sleep every night? While I had to lie to her, day after day, saying you’d come back? You didn’tmeanto shatter her entire world just so you could run off and play immortal soulmate with a demon?”

Ophelia flinches. “Rhys, that’s not what happened—”

“Oh, isn’t it?” he snaps, eyes flashing. “You always find a way to make yourself the victim. But this time,this time, someone else is paying the price for your absence.”

He steps closer, and she doesn't back away. She just stands there, swallowing down whatever's clawing its way up her throat.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” Rhys says, his voice quieter now, but shaking with fury. “At least she’d still have a future.”

Ophelia’s breath hitches. “I never wanted this.”

“No,” he says. “You just made it inevitable.”

She stares at him, stunned silent, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her fingers twitch at her sides like she’s searching for something to hold onto—anything to anchor herself.

Rhys’s voice drops lower. “And for the record? I hope you look at that contract every single day. I hope you remember what it cost to keep your name off it.” He pauses, breathes once. His next words are ice. “I wish it was his name on that scroll instead.”

“I wish it was too,” I say quietly—flat, without heat. “Because if it were, you wouldn’t be talking right now.” Rhys freezes. “You think you’re angry?” my eyes narrow, just a sliver of the fury I keep buried leaking through. “You don’t know what it means to lose someone piece by piece and not be allowed to fall apart.”

I look at Ophelia—not at Rhys. My voice softens, but only for her. “You think pain gives you a license to destroy her? You don’t get to break the people she loves just because you’re hurting.”

Rhys says nothing.

“She’s already lost everything once. She doesn’t owe you her grief just because it’s more convenient than yours. But…” I say, almost to myself. “You just gave me an idea.”

I lean in and kiss Ophelia.

She doesn’t realize it, but I’m already letting go. This isn’t a promise—it’s a farewell dressed in silence. She kisses me like we still have time, unaware the moment is already slipping through my fingers.

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