Chapter 40 The Refusal

The soft click of the hotel closet door echoed like finality in the silence. Genevieve stood by the window, her long fingers trembling as they folded the silk dress she’d worn the night before, the one Silas had undone slowly, carefully, like she was made of something rare. Now, it felt like armor she no longer needed. Her reflection in the mirror stared back with hollow defiance, lips pressed thin, eyes darkened with betrayal. The suite smelled faintly of him, of his cologne, his skin, the crisp edge of expensive whiskey. And still, she shoved her shoes into her duffel, grinding her teeth against the tightness in her chest. No more lingering. No more waiting for a man who couldn’t decide if she was a woman or a weakness.