Aria POV:

My hands were clamped around the steering wheel, my knuckles white. Black spots danced in my vision, and the pain in my chest was a relentless, crushing weight. I couldn't breathe.

I wasn't going to make it to the hospital.

A primal, desperate fight for survival took over. It wasn't about love anymore. It wasn't about him. It was about living.

My trembling finger found his name in my recent calls and pressed it.

The phone rang for an eternity. Each ring was a new spike of pain in my chest. Finally, he picked up.

The background was filled with the sound of Kelsey's soft, delicate laughter.

"Aria, what is it now?" Bryson's voice was heavy with impatience. "I'm busy."

I forced the words past the lump in my throat. "Bryson, I... I'm on my way to the hospital. I can't breathe. I coughed up blood..."

Silence.

For one, insane second, my heart leaped. Maybe he would hear the truth in my voice. Maybe the mate bond would tell him this wasn't a lie.

Then his voice, colder than a winter storm, sliced through the line. "Stop it, Aria. Stop with these pathetic games for attention. Is this because I'm with Kelsey? You're disappointing me."

I could hear her in the background, her voice a syrupy sweet poison. "Bryson, is Miss Farmer upset? Oh, it's all my fault, my body is just so weak..."

"It's not your fault," he soothed her instantly. Then, his voice hardened as he spoke to me. "If you're really sick, go see a doctor yourself. Stop calling and bothering me."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone in my hand, the dial tone a flat, monotonous drone. It was the sound of the end. The final, microscopic flicker of hope I didn't even know I was holding onto was extinguished.

My vision went completely black for a moment. I slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt on the side of the deserted road.

A violent coughing fit seized me. More blood splattered onto the dashboard.

I collapsed over the steering wheel and I laughed. A broken, hysterical sound that turned into a sob. The tears finally came, hot and useless, streaming down my face.

Four years. Four years of being a ghost in his life, and this was the end of it. He wouldn't care if I lived or died.

I finally understood.

After what felt like an eternity, I sat up. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my movements mechanical. The tears stopped.

There was nothing left to cry for.

With the last of my strength, I started the car and drove. I don't know how I made it, but the next thing I knew, I was pulling up to the ER entrance.

I practically fell out of the driver's seat. A nurse saw me and shouted for a gurney.

The world became a blur of bright lights, urgent voices, and the sterile smell of the hospital.

The doctor's face was grim after the examination. "Severe bond-strain sickness," he confirmed, his voice low. "The betrayal has caused a physical rupture in the bond's connection to your spirit. We need to start energy treatments immediately to stabilize the internal damage."

The treatment was agony. I lay alone on a cold, metal table as waves of raw energy were forced into my body, fighting the toxic feedback from the bond. It felt like being torn apart and stitched back together, over and over.

But I didn't shed another tear. My mind was eerily calm.

Hours later, I was moved to a private room. The doctor warned me that my life was no longer in immediate danger, but the bond itself had a fracture. A crack. Any more emotional trauma could shatter it completely.

I stared at the blank white ceiling.

And I made the most important decision of my life.

I was done. Not just with the house, not just with him. I was done with the entire pathetic arrangement.

I reached for my phone, my fingers steady now. I opened my email and composed a new message.

The recipient was Sharon Price, the Head of Human Resources at Cardenas Industries.

The message was short.

"I, Aria Farmer, hereby resign from my position as Executive Assistant to the CEO, effective immediately."

I had worked for him for three years. It was his idea. A way for him to keep an eye on me, while also keeping me a secret. No one at the company, except for my one work friend, Scott Hayes, knew I was the Alpha's mate. "To avoid unnecessary complications," Bryson had said.

This secret, humiliating love. This job that was just another chain.

I didn't want it anymore.

I hit send.

A massive weight lifted from my shoulders. It was the first time I had breathed freely in years.

Then, I made one more call.

The phone was answered on the first ring.

"Aria! You finally picked up! Did that bastard Alpha do something again? I swear I'm going to rip his throat out!" Crystal's fiery voice was a balm to my soul.

A weak smile touched my lips. "Crystal," I said, my voice hoarse. "Can you come pick me up from the hospital? I think... I need a place to stay."

I had made my choice.

I was going to perform the Rejection Ritual.