Her chest constricted.
“He instructed me to tell you that you made your choice when you left the island,” Samson continued, each word landing like a blow, “and that you should stop trying to contact him. Permanently.”
Something inside her cracked.
From all the possible outcomes she had imagined—anger, confrontation, accusations, even manipulation—this had never crossed her mind.
Rejection. Clean. Absolute. Final. And not even direct, but delivered by a third party, which was making it even more humiliating.
She stared at Samson, unable to speak, her lips parted as if words might come if she just waited long enough. But nothing did. Her mind reeled, grasping at fragments, trying to make sense of it.
He didn’t even want to see her.
Not to hear her.
Not to know.
Not to care.
The re
