1 The night we broke up, Garrett got scratched by a feral cat. The next morning, I woke up to find a sleek black cat staring at me with his exact amber eyes. Without a word, I scooped him up and brought him to my apartment. For the next few days, he was forced to watch me live. He watched me eat, sleep, and FaceTime the new man in my life. He tried to claw at the screen, but his paws were too short; he tried to scream at me, but all that came out of his throat were pathetic, high-pitched meows. One evening, while we were sitting on the couch with a reality show buzzing in the background, I pulled him onto my lap. I looked closely into his eyes and smiled. "You know," I murmured, "the way you look at me right now... you look exactly like my ex-boyfriend." His entire body went rigid. I lifted him up, bringing him level with my face. "If you really are him, blink three times." He blinked frantically, his tail snapping straight and tense as a wire. I set him back down on the cushion, my voice dropping to a flat, dry whisper. "Just kidding. How could a cat ever understand what I’m saying?" I stood up and walked into the kitchen to wash some strawberries. Behind me, he froze on the couch, his eyes burning into my back. Does she know? Or does she simply not care anymore? "Are you two seriously over?" On the other end of the line, my best friend Sloane’s voice was thick with disbelief. "Yes. It's done." I propped my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I snapped open a heavy, black heavy-duty trash bag. At my feet, the black cat I had rescued the night before crouched on the plush rug. His amber eyes never left me, his tail thumping against the floor in a restless, agitated rhythm. "And Garrett just let you walk away?" Sloane let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "The man practically kept you in a gilded cage. You couldn't even go to a grocery store without checking in." "What Garrett wants doesn't matter anymore." I knelt, pulling open the bottom drawer of the coffee table. Sitting in the back was a small velvet box containing our matching platinum promise rings. Garrett had slid mine onto my finger on my birthday last year. He had rushed to my apartment straight from a welcome-back dinner for Sienna, smelling faintly of the expensive, niche perfume she always wore. He had run his fingers through my hair, his voice carrying that familiar, gentle condescension. "Sienna just got back to the States, Audrey. She’s fragile right now, so I stayed a little longer to keep her company. You're so sensible; you won't hold it against her, right?" I hadn't said a word. He took my silence as permission. Within a week, he transferred ten percent of the equity he had promised me in our joint venture directly to Sienna. His excuse was that Sienna needed "a sense of security" in the family business. I pulled his ring from the box and tossed it into the black plastic bag. It hit the bottom with a dull, metallic clink. Beside me, the black cat shuddered. He scrambled forward, burying his front paws into the edge of the trash bag, letting out a sharp, desperate yowl. "Meow!" I looked down at him. The look in his eyes was identical to Garrett's. It was the same arrogant, high-handed certainty that I would never actually leave, no matter what he did. I used the toe of my slipper to gently nudge him aside. "Stop it. It's dirty." The cat ignored me, lunging again, his small teeth tearing at the plastic. I didn't bother stopping him. I went back to clearing the drawer. Garrett's spare key. Tossed. The matching coffee mugs he bought us. Tossed. The silk slip dress he had custom-ordered because he liked how my body looked in it. Tossed. "Sounds like you're purging every trace of him," Sloane remarked over the line. "Just clearing out the garbage." My voice was completely flat as I stuffed the last of his designer button-down shirts into the bag. There was a faint, dried coffee stain on the cuff of the sleeve. It had happened last week when Garrett threw his arm out to block a spill from hitting Sienna’s dress. At the time, he had turned to me, his tone smooth, reasonable, and entirely dismissive. "Audrey, run down to the car and grab my spare shirt, would you? Let's not make Sienna feel guilty about this." That was his specialty. Using the softest, most loving words to commit the most glaring betrayals. The black cat was pacing in frantic circles around my ankles. Seeing that I was ignoring him, he leaped onto the coffee table and slammed a paw down onto my phone. The screen flared to life. A text notification from Elliott popped up. Elliott: Are you free tomorrow? I managed to secure a table at that new omakase place you’ve been wanting to try. The cat froze. He stared at the name Elliott on the screen, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep in his throat. "Is that Elliott texting you?" Sloane asked, her sharp ears catching the vibration. "Yeah." "Go! Absolutely go. Why should Garrett spend every waking hour coddling his precious 'sister' while you sit at home waiting for table scraps? You deserve a life, Audrey." I picked up the phone, carefully avoiding the cat's unsheathed claws. My fingers tapped across the keyboard. Audrey: I'd love to. See you tomorrow. Before I could lock the screen, the cat went wild. He launched himself toward the phone, claws out. I swiped the phone high out of his reach. He missed, landing heavily on the rug with a dull thud. I stood over him, my shadow swallowing him whole. "Do that again, and you're sleeping outside." The cat went entirely still. He looked up at me, those amber eyes wide with a sudden, dawning terror. It was as if he couldn't comprehend the ice in my voice. Just like Garrett. Garrett had lived his entire life believing that the Audrey who always left a porch light burning for him would never, under any circumstances, shut the door on him for good. I tied the black trash bag into a tight, double knot. I hauled it to the foyer, opened the front door, and threw it into the chute without looking back. 2 The next morning, I took the black cat to the vet. He hadn't slept all night. He had spent the dark hours pacing the living room floor, frantically scratching at the empty drawer where his belongings used to be. When I tried to put him into the plastic carrier that morning, he fought me with a savage, desperate strength, leaving a deep red scratch across the back of my hand. I looked at the thin beads of blood welling up on my skin. I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I simply took an antiseptic wipe and wiped the blood away, my expression entirely blank. The cat went still. He shrunk into the back corner of the carrier, staring at my hand, letting out a low, pathetic whimper. It sounded almost like an apology. The veterinary clinic was packed. When the doctor pulled him out onto the stainless-steel exam table, the cat was uncharacteristically docile. But his eyes never left my face, tracking my every movement as if terrified I might walk out the door. "He's got quite a temper," the vet remarked, checking his heart rate. "His stress levels are off the charts. Extreme anxiety." "He's still adjusting to a new environment," I said, looking down at my phone. My texts were quiet. Garrett’s avatar remained silent, but there was a message from his executive assistant, Arthur, sent thirty minutes ago. Arthur: Miss Audrey, Mr. Mercer had an accident last night and is currently admitted to the hospital. Arthur: He was highly agitated when he woke up and realized you weren't there. When would it be convenient for you to visit? Miss Sienna is currently with him, but he keeps asking for you. I looked at the screen and felt a cold, mocking laugh bubble up in my chest. Sienna was already there. Why on earth did he need me? To act as a prop for their touching family reunion? I swiped left on Arthur’s chat thread and hit Delete. On the table, the cat began to struggle. He tried to crawl toward me, but the vet held him down gently. "Easy there, buddy. Almost done." The clinic door swung open, and Zachary stepped into the exam room. Zachary was Garrett’s college roommate and closest enabler. In his arms, he carried a pristine, incredibly expensive Ragdoll cat—the very one Garrett had bought for Sienna last month. Zachary stopped when he saw me. A sneer curled his lips as his eyes drifted to my plastic carrier. "Well, well. Audrey," he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "You certainly have your priorities straight, don't you?" He set Sienna’s cat on the adjacent counter. "Garrett is lying in a hospital bed, and you don't even have the decency to show your face. Instead, you're here playing nurse to some mangy alley cat?" I didn't look at him. "He has Sienna. He doesn't need me." Zachary let out a harsh laugh. "Are you still throwing a tantrum over that? Sienna is his family, Audrey. What is wrong with him looking out for her?" He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "Do you even know why Garrett got into that accident last night? He drove halfway across the city in a torrential downpour just to get those pastries from the bakery downtown—the ones you supposedly love. He was walking back to his car when some stray cat attacked him, and he lost control of the wheel on the drive back." "You really are a piece of work, Audrey. Have some decency." I kept my gaze fixed on the black cat on the exam table. His small body had gone completely rigid. He was staring at me with an intense, pleading urgency, waiting for my reaction. Did he think I would break? Did he honestly believe that a story about his hollow, dramatic grandstanding would make me run back to his hospital bedside? I reached down and smoothed the band-aid over my scratched hand. "The bakery downtown?" I finally raised my eyes to meet Zachary's. "I have a lethal peanut allergy, Zach. Every single pastry from that bakery is fried in peanut oil." Zachary’s smug expression faltered. "He bought those because they are Sienna’s favorite," I said, my voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Zach, do me a favor and give Garrett a message." "If he wants to play the doting brother to Sienna, tell him to go right ahead. Just tell him to stop using my name to alleviate his own guilt." On the exam table, the black cat thrashed violently. He kicked out, knocking a stainless-steel tray of medical instruments to the floor with a deafening clatter. He bared his teeth, letting out a raw, agonized shriek, trying to leap toward me. He looked desperate to explain, desperate to tell me it wasn't like that. I gave him a brief, cold glance, then turned my back on him. "Doctor, please put him back in the carrier when you're finished. I'll be waiting in the lobby." When we got back to the apartment, I began to pack. There wasn't much of my own to take. Garrett had bought the apartment, and almost everything inside it had been purchased with his credit card. My entire life fit neatly into a single rolling suitcase. The black cat followed me like a shadow. Wherever I stepped, he was right at my heels. I began pulling the designer dresses Garrett had bought me out of the closet, taking photos of them to list on a luxury resale app. The cat jumped onto the bed, slamming his paw down onto a silk gown. He refused to let me move it. "Move," I said, pushing his shoulder. He dug his claws into the fabric, letting out a low, rumbling growl of protest. I ignored him, turning my attention to the desk. In the bottom drawer, buried beneath old tax documents, was a thick manila envelope. It contained the stock certificates for a subsidiary of the Mercer Group. When Garrett had given Sienna ten percent of the parent company, he had handed me these subsidiary shares as a consolation prize. He had pinched the back of my neck, his voice dripping with patronizing warmth. "This company will be your security, Audrey. Be a good girl. Stop fighting with Sienna over pennies." I had accepted the envelope back then without a word. Now, I pulled the certificate out, slipped it alongside the signed relinquishment form I had prepared, and sealed the envelope. The cat saw the envelope and went completely feral. He leaped from the bed, his teeth baring as he tried to tear the thick paper to shreds. "Garrett," I said quietly.
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