Crystabella's POV
The door clicked shut behind Leo, but the silence he left behind was deafening.
I stood frozen in place, the city lights casting long shadows across the floor of my bedroom. My hand still hovered near my chest, where my heart thudded too fast and too loud. It was the only sound filling the quiet.
I didn't move. Couldn't move.
Leo Whitewood had been in my home. In my space. In my head.
And now that he was gone, it felt like something had been ripped open.
I slowly lowered myself to the floor, my silk nightdress catching on the cool marble tiles as I sat down. Everything felt distant. Fuzzy. Unreal. Like my mind had gone offline and my body was operating on instinct.
I should have told him to leave. I should have called Romano. Should have reminded Leo we had no past.
But I hadn't.
Because I couldn't.
My phone buzzed beside me. I looked down, half-expecting Leo's name again.
But it was Romano.
Hope you got home safe. Tonight's ours. I love you. I can't wait to begin this new journey of love with you.
I stared at the message. Something about it made my stomach twist. His words were sweet, everything they were supposed to be, but they felt off. Empty. Like they belonged in a wedding card someone else wrote.
My eyes drifted to my hand.
The ring glinted under the soft bedroom lights. Beautiful. Immaculate. Perfect.
But I didn't feel perfect.
I slowly slid the ring off my finger.
It didn't resist. It came off like it had never belonged there.
My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it.
Instead, I rose to my feet and walked toward the window, pulling aside the curtain. The street below was quiet now. Leo was gone. No matte-black car. No shadow waiting in the night.
Only me.
Alone with the truth I didn't want to face.
Suddenly, a knock at the front door startled me.
I froze.
Another knock followed, more insistent this time.
I hesitated before going to the door. Through the peephole, I spotted our family's driver. Harris. Tall, gray-haired, dressed in his usual crisp black suit.
I opened the door with confusion creeping into my voice.
"Harris? What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night."
He gave me a small nod. "Your father sent me, Miss Brooklyn. He wants you home. Immediately."
I blinked. "What? Why?"
He didn't answer. Just looked at me with the same unreadable expression he'd worn since I was a girl.
Panic fluttered in my chest. My father never summoned me without reason. And never like this. Not without warning.
"Did something happen?" I asked, reaching for my robe.
"I'm afraid I don't have the full details, Miss," he said. "But your father insists. The car is waiting downstairs."
I nodded slowly, heart pounding. I grabbed my phone, slipped on a coat, and followed Harris out of the apartment, leaving the engagement ring lying on my nightstand.
The elevator ride was silent. I couldn't stop fidgeting. I kept thinking about Leo. About Romano. About the way the world seemed to be shifting beneath my feet and I couldn't find solid ground.
The city looked different through the tinted windows of the car. Colder. Sharper. As if it knew I was being dragged back into a life I thought I had already escaped.
The Brooklyn family estate came into view like a ghost from my past. Towering gates, marble columns, and the haunting weight of expectation wrapped in luxury.
The grand double doors loomed before me as I stepped out of the car, cold air biting at my skin through the thin fabric of my coat. The estate was shrouded in an unsettling stillness, the lights dimmed, the garden perfectly trimmed but lifeless in the moonlight.
I stood there for a moment, just staring.
This place always felt like a museum of perfection. Polished marble. Gilded furniture. Silence as thick as the walls.
It had never been a home. Only a stage.
And I was the daughter expected to play her role to perfection.
The butler greeted me with a small bow as I stepped inside. "Your father is in his study, Miss Brooklyn. He's been waiting."
Waiting.
The word pressed against my ribs, heavier than I could carry. I gave a faint nod and made my way down the familiar corridor, my footsteps muffled by the lush carpet.
Every painting along the wall stared down at me, each face a reminder of our legacy. Brooklyn blood. Brooklyn pride. Brooklyn control.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
The study door stood half-open.
Soft light spilled out into the hallway, warm and golden, but it did nothing to ease the chill in my chest.
I knocked gently before pushing it open.
My father sat behind his desk, back straight, hands folded. His silver hair was neatly combed, his tailored suit pristine. He looked exactly the same as always. Unmoved. Imposing.
"Crystabella," he said without looking up from the papers on his desk.
"Father." I stepped inside, my voice quieter than I meant.
"Sit."
I obeyed, perching on the edge of the leather armchair across from him. My fingers rested in my lap, clenched to hide the tremble.
He finally looked up, and the weight of his stare landed like a stone in my gut.
"I trust you understand why I asked you here," he said calmly.
I shook my head. "No. I don't."
His eyes narrowed, studying me as if he already knew the answers but wanted to hear them from my mouth.
"You're engaged to Romano Grayson," he began. "You represent this family, Crystabella. In public. In private. And what you do, what you allow, reflects on all of us."
I blinked. My stomach dropped.
"What I allow?" I echoed, voice shaky.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "You were seen tonight. Not just at the party. But afterward. At your apartment."
The breath left my lungs.
"Leo Whitewood," he said, voice colder now. "Does that name ring a bell?"
I couldn't speak. My lips parted, but no sound came.
"I raised you better than this." His voice was low and sharp, slicing through the silence. "You don't invite shadows into your life. Not when we've worked so hard to build something untouchable."
My jaw clenched. "He came to me."
"And you let him in."
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"But you didn't stop it, did you?" His tone was hard now. "You let him see you. Let him remind you of the girl you used to be. Weak. Naive."
My hands curled into fists.
"I'm not weak," I said quietly.
"Then prove it," he snapped. "End it. Whatever he thinks he has with you, shut it down. Before it costs us everything."
I felt something inside me pull taut, like a string about to snap.
"He's not the problem," I said, standing. "The problem is pretending I'm still in control of a life that doesn't belong to me."
He rose too, slower but steadier.
"You will marry Romano Grayson. You will continue what we've built. And you will forget about Leo Whitewood."
I stared at him, heart racing. My chest felt too tight for air.
But I said nothing about the ring. I'd already left it behind, where it belonged.
"I came because you summoned me," I said, my voice low but even. "But I won't be controlled. Not like before."
His eyes narrowed, but I didn't wait for a reply.
I turned and walked out. Not because I was strong. Not because I had a plan.
But because I needed to breathe again.
Even if the weight of this family tried to crush me the moment I stepped outside that door.
Even if everything fell apart by morning.