ZOE DEAN'S POV
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
Disappear?
The word echoed in my head like a gunshot—loud, sharp, destructive—leaving nothing behind but ringing silence. I stared at my father, my mouth opening instinctively, as if my body expected words to come out on their own.
Nothing did.
My chest tightened—too tight—like the air had suddenly thickened, turning breathing into something deliberate instead of automatic. I struggled to pull in a breath, and only then did I realize why.
He wasn't just asking Nero to leave.
He was asking the one person who had stayed to walk away.
Again.
My father was asking him to disappear from my life—just like he had. Just like my mother had when she died. The familiar ache of abandonment crawled up my spine, old and sharp, reopening wounds I thought I'd learned to live with.
Was he happy seeing me like this?
Always lonely.
Always alone.
Always the one left behind.
