Nicholas stepped toward her again, and Cecilia lunged for the bottle on the floor.

Thinking she meant to attack him, Nicholas instinctively stepped back—only to watch her press the jagged glass to her own throat.

“Stay back!” Cecilia locked eyes with him, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I don’t like you. I’ll never let anything happen between us. Obsess all you want, but I already hate you—and that’s never going to change.”

Nicholas clearly didn’t believe she would actually hurt herself. He leaned against the wall, posture loose, almost bored.

“If you really have the nerve,” he drawled, “I’ll let you go.”

Cecilia didn’t hesitate. She dragged the glass across her skin.

A thin line of red bloomed at her neck. Blood slid slowly downward.