The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, leaving the suburban streets slick and black under the streetlights.

We got into Rachel’s SUV, and she turned the heater on high.

The warm air blasted against my face, bringing some feeling back to my cheeks.

My phone buzzed in the cup holder.

It was a text from Scott.

“I knew you couldn’t handle this,” his message read.

“You always were too fragile for the real world.”

“Take your time, Avery. But those papers need to be signed by next week.”

“I’m moving on with my life.”

“He fell for it,” Rachel said, shifting the car into drive.

“He really thinks he’s a king,” I said, staring out the window at the passing dark trees.

“Let him think it,” she said.

Ten minutes later, another notification flashed on my screen.

It was a public post on Scott’s personal profile.

I tapped it, and a picture of a bottle of vintage champagne on a marble countertop appeared.

Two crystal glasses sat beside the bottle.

The caption was short and incredibly smug.

“Out with the old, in with the gold,” it read.