His eyes darted upward, catching the subtle red blink of a dome camera above the archway.

His fingers immediately uncoiled, retreating as if I were made of acid.

Elena let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Poor, tragic Claire. Do you honestly believe this little theater production changes a single thing? Daniel has been entirely done with you for months.

He told me himself—you’re useless without him guiding your hand.”

My breath hitched.

There it was. The exact, venomous phrase he’d hurled at me behind closed doors for years.

It was the weapon he used during every cruel, gaslighting argument, the punctuation to every cold silence, the lock on every door he shut in my face.

Useless.