His Madness, Her Unforgiving Vengeance

Fitzpatr

rofile. My thumb hovered over the screen, hesitant, but a morbid cu

artfully drizzled with maple syrup, beside a steaming cup of coffee. The caption read: Morning

The ones he'd learned to make specifically for me, after I'd casually mentioned my childhood love for them. He' d practiced for weeks, burning several batche

red, pressing a kiss to my temple. "No one

same pancakes, the same secret recipe, now paraded on social media, a testament t

my mind. A strangled sob escaped me, followed by another. The tear

pagne flute from last night, and the half-eaten plate of blueberry pancakes I had impulsively made for myself after overhearing Kade's conversation. The sheer rage and devastation after that cal

t?" Maria asked softly, her eyes

pointing vaguely at the mess. "J

red piece of ceramic. "This was a gi

d out, my voice hoarse. "It'

ld discard me so easily, I could discard him. I pushed myself

plush toy from a carnival we' d won. A framed picture of us, smiling, arms around each other, from our high school graduation. Each item, once a symbol of affection,

y public displays of affection for Jodi. He was utterly consumed by his new, strategic relationship, completely oblivious to the wreckag

y fingers recoiled, as if the metal had burned me. It wasn't silver; it was a lie, a symbol of deceit. Every happy memory

ed. "Addison? What are you doing, honey? Yo

y flat. I didn't want her pity. I didn't want her questio

e of Kade's discarded gifts. Her eyes softened, fi

th his scribbled notes beside mine. I tossed it onto the pile with a satisfying thud. "Kade

ress. She knew me well enough to understand that when

down the stairs, I felt a strange, conflicting sense of lightness. It was a physic

his house, this suffocating history. I needed to be somewhere so far away, so different, that the ghost of Kade Dalton co