My mouth opens but I don’t know how to form the words. I catch bits and pieces as Jane describes elements from an older series of my drawings, one I abandoned to better realize at Pemberley. But his words are drowned out by the screaming in my head. It’s happened again. It’s fucking happened again.

I’m shaking. Every muscle in my body is rigid as I struggle against the onslaught of old hurts and the pain of this fresh betrayal. I trusted Wickham. I told him what happened in LA, and he used it as a blueprint to undermine the deal. To undermine me.

No, not just me. This time, I’m not falling alone. He’s stolen more than ideas. He’s stolen my second home. By coming between Ginn and Tonic, he’s tearing apart my second family. He’s potentially screwing over the people and place I value over almost anything, and he’s using my work to make it happen.

“NO.” It comes out of me so sharply, Darcy flinches. “He doesn’t get to do this. This isn’t happening again. Meryton is ours.

“Could he be at Ginn’s, you think?” I shove myself from the bed, scanning the room for the dress Darcy peeled from me. Was that really only a few hours ago? How can last night even exist on the same plane as the past five minutes?

I spot a hint of green by the window and beeline for it. “Do you know her address? Does Ming?” I pluck the dress from the floor, unearthing with it the wreckage of condom wrappers. “I swear to God, if he thinks—”

I turn to find Darcy in front of me. His dark eyes fix me to the spot, his concern so plain, my words catch, only to release as a strangled sob.

It’s happened again. Logic threatens to derail my anger. My eyes well. What am I doing? Charging after the guy? Then what? Jane said the deal is done. Wickham has Meryton.

When my hold gave way in LA, it took days for me to hit the ground. The descent was gradual, the rumors and lies taking their time as I realized the floor was coming up to greet me. This is more like my actual fall: quick and unforgiving. Even the ache in my ribs feels the same. It revives the crushing ugliness that chased me from the other side of the country. Every brutal memory, every dirty look aimed at me in the days before I left. That I was nothing. The feelings pile on.

I let the dress slip from my fingers. It’s over.

Darcy gestures for the phone. I raise it, Jane’s worried voice carrying on in the space between us. “Jane?” His eyes stay on mine. “Hi, yeah. She’ll call you back later. When Charles finishes with his lawyer, tell him to call me?”