Sealed With a Kiss

Thirty One Pt. II

A/N: Note at the beginning because I know that I won't be able to type anything at the end of this chapter. I'll feel too empty to type a little message for you.
This entire story is inspired by the story of the Swan Lake, specifically this chapter. I'd suggest looking it up to fully understand this update, although it's not necessary. Okay...here goes. Hope you enjoy it and happy Friday!

XXXI: Final Act Pt. II

I WOKE EARLY THE NEXT DAY. Too early, hours before sunrise. Cloaked by the darkness of dusk, I changed into a white blouse and trousers. Taking my heels and purse in hand, I walked out of our bedroom, leaving Cole to wake alone.

I didn't know where I was going, I just knew I didn't want to be home. With a cup of hot cocoa, I walked aimlessly along the nearly deserted streets of Manhattan. Soon the city will rise, and I will no longer be the only one save for a few early risers. Pulling the lapels of my trench coat closer to shield myself from the crips morning wind, I ran across the road and down into the subway station.

I bought a ticket and climbed onto the subway for the first time since I received Mina's inheritance. It felt good to sit on those hard plastic chairs once more, surrounded by so many strangers but the only noise the scrape of the wheels against the tracks. It was comforting in a way, almost like coming home. If I closed my eyes I could picture myself in a pair of old tattered jeans and my dirty plimsolls, my frizzy hair done up in a braid unlike my now tamed locks thanks to whatever product the stylists put on it. If I closed my eyes right now, I would be transported back to simpler times when my only problems were paying the rent and dealing with my old boss's sexist antics.

Nothing had changed. I was in the same seat I always took on my way to work to 89 Designs. Everything was the same down to the stale smell that lingered in the air. But something was off. I didn't realize what it was until I heard the name of my stop on the speakers.

I had changed.

I was no longer the nerdy, quirky art history girl with oversized glasses sliding down her face. I was no longer the plimsoll-wearing type that owns a lifetime supply of shapeless cardigans, or the same girl that thought so little of herself that she would give anything to any man who so much as looked in her direction.

I caught a glimpse of myself as I exited the subway, and saw the type of woman I used to enviously admire from behind thick lenses. Classy, elegant, pretty. That's what I saw in my reflection.

A vision in white.

MY PHONE BUZZED WITH ALL THE UNANSWERED MESSAGES. All day Cole's been texting, asking where I ran off to this morning. I responded vaguely, giving the excuse of a pipe bursting in the gallery.

Now I sat going over some paperwork in my glass office, ignoring the messages on the screen. Instead I looked out my windows, watching as the workers hung up the different pieces of artwork I've selected to display for the opening of White Lies. They were all stunning, and all created by undiscovered artists.

Hanging above my head in my office was the Picasso Scott had gifted me. It fit beautifully with the decor the designers had chosen. White Lies was sleek and modern but it was also warm and inviting, something that other galleries like 89 Designs lacked. I was proud of the work that had gone into it, and come next month I'll be able to share it with the world.

My phone buzzed again, interrupting my thoughts. It was a call from Cole.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up. I couldn't avoid him any longer. "Hello?"

I waited, but there was no response. Perhaps he'd called me by mistake. "Cole? Hello, are you there?"

"...not part of the plan. You weren't supposed to marry her." I froze when I heard the unmistakable voice of Olivia Richmond-Prescott through the speaker. "I called Gates."