17. Daphne

Chapter seventeen

Daphne

M y eyes open, and I’m instantly reminded of how alone I feel. The sheets are the only warmth near me because Alex never returned to the guest room. He’s probably still with Celeste.

Great.

The room’s too bright, which only contributes to my temperament. I’m still here, in the Whitmore mansion. Slowly, I remember bits and pieces of last night. Alex and Celeste are a picture-perfect lie, smiling for cameras that aren’t even there.

After rolling over, I grab my phone. The screen lights up, showing I missed a text from Eden.

Eden

How are you holding up?

I’ll reply later. First, breakfast. Everyone feels better with food in their tummies.

After swinging my legs off the bed, my feet hit the cold floor. I quickly dress and shuffle towards the door, all the while trying to shake off my dread. Downstairs, the house comes alive with morning sounds, but none of them comfort me.

Coming here was a mistake.

Alex’s and his dad’s voices creep around the corner. I’m not sure where they are. I’m not even sure what time his dad got in because he wasn’t at dinner last night. Not wanting to seek them out since I’m still upset with Alex, I find the kitchen. I’ll speak with him after I eat.

The kitchen is a cavernous space, its walls lined with towering cabinets that seem to disappear into the ceiling. It’s amazing because, once upon a time, Alex used to figure out ways to reach into those cabinets all by himself. Unfortunately, now that he’s taller, he’s lost the passion, when he’s finally grown enough to reach them.

I remember the counters, cluttered with a chaotic array of cooking ingredients. Bowls of flour, sugar, and spices jostled for space, while pots and pans of every size and shape hung from overhead racks. The air was thick with the aroma of spices and simmering sauces. Now, everywhere I see is a pristine expanse of white marble. Untouched. Unloved.

Celeste is alone at the six-burner stove, with her back turned to me. Eggs are frying in a pan, and I’m actually surprised that she’s cooking. Well, attempting to cook. Looks like they’re burning .

After my nose wrinkles at the smell of char, I register what she’s wearing. A barely there red nightie. I mean, girl’s ass cheeks are hanging out and if she turns just right, everyone will get a peek of her nip.

She knows what she’s doing. They think she was in Alex’s bed last night. The burning thought stings my insides. Because Alex was in her bed last night, right? I mean, in all the ways that matter. He said he’d sleep on the floor, but what if he didn’t? Or what if he did, but he wanted to touch her?

Trust is important, and I do trust Alex. If he said he’d sleep on the floor, he slept on the floor. However, it doesn’t help knowing that Celeste slept less than a foot away, practically naked.

I should be used to this charade, but it gnaws at me every damn time.

I cross my arms, leaning back against the cool marble countertop. Celeste flutters about, the red fabric of her nightie flashing with each movement. She’s a flame in a room full of moths.

I’ll ask again: what am I doing here?

Alex’s world is a constant show of opulence. I’m an outsider, a secret tucked away in his pocket. This game we’re playing is wearing me down. The lines are blurring.

Footsteps clamber on the staircase. I don’t raise my eyes, but I know it’s him. Alex descends with his father as their voices weave through the air. They talk about stocks, acquisitions, and things I can barely grasp. From the corner of my eye, I notice how engaged Alex is with his father. Alex doesn’t give me a single glance.

While cracking eggs in the pan, Celeste giggles. “Look at me, all domesticated for Alex,” she boasts, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

I wince.

Alex’s gaze never strays from his dad. He doesn’t notice. It’s like I’m not even here. I’m invisible.

I silently press my lips together. His world and mine don’t mesh. I can feel it. Self-doubt creeps in. Every second I stand here, it gets clearer.

With Alex being so aloof right now, I’m tempted to believe that his entire point of bringing me to his million-dollar mansion was to show me just how much we don’t fit. It’s as if he has to rub it in for me to finally comprehend what the universe has been screaming. Wouldn’t be the first time. Mom once screamed it at me as she dunked my head under the water.

His father laughs in what sounds like a cackle, and Alex joins in. They’re in their element, a world where I’m merely a visitor. I keep my head down and wish that my hair was longer than my chin so I could hide behind it. Maybe if I can’t see them, the ache will fade.

A strong odor of burnt eggs permeates the kitchen. Seeming to not notice, Victoria swans through the doorway. If I had been cooking, I’d bet my favorite tit that Victoria would have commented on the smell. She doesn’t, though, because it’s Celeste standing at the stove. Meanwhile, Celeste pouts as the eggs sizzle and blacken under her watch. She should have thrown them out a full minute ago at this point. You can’t unburn eggs.

Victoria grins before snatching the spatula with a manicured hand. “Give me that. That’s why we have chefs, silly!”

I’m perched on a stool, now with my elbows digging into the counter. The laughter, the easy camaraderie—it all swirls around me, but never touches me. I’m an island in the midst of their high-society sea. Shit, I’m too angsty even for myself.

I’m not a kid anymore. If I’m unhappy, I can leave.

So, I will.

Since I’ve been invisible all morning, I use silence as my shield. No one notices as I slip off the stool, nor do they notice my feet padding softly across the floor and up the stairs. Upstairs, the hallway is empty, forgotten. My bag sits by the door as if it’s waiting for me. As if it knew I didn’t belong here.

I take a last look around, a quick inhale of this world that’s not mine .

The longer I stay here, the longer I crumble. I went to bed upset and woke up upset. It’s not good for me. Not for anyone. Cementing the decision, I pull up the Uber app and order a ride.

I feel bad for running away, but honestly, it might take Alex hours to figure out I’m not here.

Once I confirm my Uber, I leave the guest room and close the door behind me.

No one notices as I go downstairs.

No one notices as I open the front door with my bag in tow.

Each step takes me further as the Whitmore mansion shrinks away with each step I take. Soon, the morning haze will swallow up the mansion, and I will become nothing but a ghost in Alex’s house.

Well, he can think about Celeste and how happy he’s making everyone else but me.