Chapter 1

Sometimes you don’t realize when your life is about to change forever.

Often, it’s planned – you’re getting married, having a baby, moving, changing careers, controlled changes.

But sometimes you’re just there, sitting at the last bonfire of the summer, about to start senior year, thinking about when Ben DeLuca would finally stop the two years of slow-burn flirting and ask you out and your phone beeps with a text that would change your whole life.

I’m sorry.

I frowned; my dad was a lot of things but not melodramatic.

Why? I texted back.

I didn’t manage to protect you. I’m sorry Esmeralda.

“Esmeralda?” I frowned. Who the hell is Esmeralda?

I jumped from the log I was sitting on. This sounded too much like my drunk dad, a version of him I thought disappeared over five years ago.

I started around the camp, calling my friend Juliet, my ride home, who would probably not hear me over the pounding sound of Fall Out Boy.

I turned around, charging toward the car park, hoping I could beg someone to give me a ride.

“Esme, Esme wait!”

I turned around but kept on walking backward as Ben jogged toward me, a drink in each hand.

“I was just coming to find you.” He extended a solo cup. “It’s alcohol-free, I promise.”

If I hadn’t been so worried, I would have smiled. With all the girls here, he was seeking me out with his broad shoulders, dark eyes and dark hair.

“No, I – My dad’s – ” I shook my head. My father was his football coach. How could I tell him I feared my father was drunk? Making the same mistake he swore he would never make again when he uprooted us from Boulder, Colorado, to Columbia, Missouri, in the middle of the night?

“What about your dad?” He took a step toward me, his eyebrows etched in worry.

“Where’s Jules?”

“Yeah….” He winced. “I saw her leave with Drew and Topher toward the beach so…” He rubbed his neck.

“Oh,” I blushed at the implication. “I really need to get home.”

He rested the drinks on a rock nearby and pointed to his bike. “Let me take you. I’ve got a spare helmet.”

I stared at his Ducati. How many girls dreamt about getting on the back of his red and silver bike? I dreamed of it too – but not like this, not with the fear in the pit of my stomach that something was terribly wrong.

I looked around the parking lot but there was no one around.

“You can’t tell,” I warned him.

He took my hand, pulling me toward his bike. “Tell what?”

“Anything you might see. Please Ben. It’s important.”

He put the helmet on my head, securing it tightly. “Of course, always.” His chocolate eyes reflected the sincerity of his words.

“Dad, he’s…” I was not even sure; I just had this uncontrollable dread filling my lungs with ice.

“It’s okay.” He straddled his bike, adjusting his own helmet. “Hop on.”

Once again, I was grateful to have ignored Juliet and her advice to wear a skimpy dress and worn my skinny jeans and combat boots instead.

The fifteen-minute ride to my house seemed never-ending, and I didn’t even get the chance to enjoy the firmness of Ben’s body or my first ever trip on the back of a bike. No, all I could think about was why my dad would drink again and what situation I would make it back to.

The scene when we arrived at the house didn’t ease my stomach. The car was parked crookedly, halfway between the driveway and the lawn, with the driver’s side door open and the keys still in the ignition. The front door of the house was slightly ajar.

I grabbed the car keys, closed the car door and took a few tentative steps toward the house, taking a small breath to settle my nerves.

I stopped when I heard footsteps behind me.

“What are you doing?”

Ben frowned at my tone. “Coming in with you.”

I shook my head. “No, I needed a ride, and you provided me with that ride. Thank you but –”

He pointed a finger at the door, a deep scowl on his face. “If you think I’m going to let the girl I like walk in a place without knowing what to expect.”

“Listen, it’s…” I began before taking a step backwards in surprise when I fully registered his statement. “The girl you like?”

He looked heavenward with a heavy sigh. “Maybe not the best moment for revelations is it?”

I shook my head. I will kill my father for ruining this moment for me. “Just, please don’t judge.”

“I won’t.”

Sadly, the vision I walked in on wasn’t unfamiliar even if it hadn’t happened in some time.

My father was lying on his stomach, an empty bottle of vodka on the floor beside a puddle of vomit.

I crinkled my nose at the once-familiar, and never fully forgotten, stench of alcohol and vomit mixed together.

Ben gagged.

“Please go Ben,” I implored. “I can deal with it just – just don’t tell, OK? I’ll explain to you on Monday at school. I promise.”

Ben looked down at me, and the worry mixed with pity in his eyes was the nail in my coffin. I wasn’t sure I could forgive my father, not again.

“Esme…”

I shook my head, my eyes burning with my unshed tears. “Please…” I croaked.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” Not in this life, I won’t.

When he was gone, I took the mirror out of my bag and brought it close to my father’s face. I’d learned from my past mistakes and I would not lean down to check his breathing – his drunk-sick breath used to almost knock me out when I was a kid.

I sighed in relief when the faint fog of breath coated the mirror – at least he only drank himself into a stupor and not to death.

“You promised, Dad,” I whispered as my eyes started to water. I cried for him never getting over mom’s death. I cried for a mom who died giving birth to me and I cried for myself and the life I had.

I opened the windows, letting the blinds down to get rid of the pungent, sickening smell which would need at least a couple of moppings with bleach to eliminate it.

I picked up the bottle and wasn’t even surprised to find discarded empty beer bottles in the sink and in the trash.

“God damnit, Dad!” I cursed, throwing the bottle so hard in the trashcan that it shattered the glass.

I turned toward my father, surprised that this ear-shattering noise didn’t even manage to get a stir out of him.

I held my breath and cleaned the vomit by the sofa, cursing him with every scrub. No 17-year-old should have had to clean up her parent’s mess… Well, no 12-year-old should have had to do that either and yet I’d done it before. I just didn’t feel the strength to start all over again.

“Why?” I asked, staring at my snoring father, once I was finally done with the cleaning,

I looked at the clock and it was past 2am. At least I didn’t have to be at work before the afternoon.

I set a glass of water and two ibuprofens on the coffee table before begrudgingly resting a blanket on his motionless body, and sat heavily on the table, facing him.

I ran my hands over my face and let out a weary sigh. Perhaps part of my leniency for his behaviour came from two things – one was the love and attention he had always given me. We never had much, him being a single father living on a meagre high-school football coach’s salary, but he never made me feel the lack of money. Our places were always small and sparse but he made sure to buy me nice clothes, sending me to dance lessons and had even set up a college fund which wasn’t big, but he had been trying.

He had really turned over a new leaf when we left Boulder. I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened but part of me suspected that his drinking problem hadn’t gone unnoticed and that he feared social services would take me away. The fear of losing me had been enough to get him out of his alcoholism and to start fresh. I might have second-guessed a lot of things in my life but his love for me was never one of them.

And the second reason was the guilt I couldn’t help but feel. He repeated, time and time again, that I wasn’t to blame for my mother’s death, but how could I not feel guilty when her death was so intrinsically linked with my life?

I let out a tearless sob. I was just too tired and stressed to deal with all that and couldn’t help wondering what life would have been like if mom hadn’t died.

“I’m sorry,” my father muffled, finally stirring a little.

“No, not anymore Dad. You promised.”

“I couldn’t protect you from him. I failed. He found you.”

I leaned closer, trying to ignore his breath. His eyes were closed. I was not even sure he was awake.

“Who?” I rested my hand on his shoulder and jerked him softly. “Who found me?”

“Your real father.” He replied.

My what?

Chapter 1 – Cassie 

They say everybody wants to be famous, be on the covers of the newspapers. That any press is good press, but that is a load of crap! 

The press had been nothing but a curse for me and my little brother, Jude. We were Cassandra and Jude West, the children of the Rivertown Murderers. 

These people… My parents used their small investment firm to embezzle the retirement funds of more than fifteen thousand people in ten years and they had also murdered thirty-two elderly people in an attempt to cover their tracks. 

My face, half hidden behind my messy red hair as I walked out of the court during the trial, even made the first page of our regional paper and I had wanted to disappear on that day. I was not going to court to support them. I was going there—I was not sure why I was going there. 

Maybe part of me hoped they would have the decency to apologize to me and Jude for destroying our lives and making us pariahs because the stigma we were carrying was a heavy cross to bear.

I let out a sigh of relief when my father was sentenced to life without parole and my mother to forty yearsI was there to make sure this whole nightmare would finally end and they would end their lives behind bars. 

I didn’t miss the glares directed my way by the families of the victims every time I took my seat in the back of the room. People didn’t believe that the twenty-year-old daughter of these two sociopaths didn’t know something was wrong, and even if I genuinely had no idea, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Had I missed anything? Were there signs? 

When I exited the court after the verdict, I looked at my watch and groaned. I only had one afternoon with Jude per week and this final day of trial stole two precious hours from it. 

It has been four months since my life—our lives—spiraled into hell. We had no other family and social services declared I was not fit to take care of my brother and I couldn’t deny it. I was broke; I had to drop out of nursing school, and I was now sleeping on the uncomfortable futon of our old maid who was one of the only people showing me a little compassion. 

I rushed to catch the bus. I had to get to the Home soon as visitation ended at five p.m. 

Seeing my baby brother only an afternoon a week was breaking me. I missed him so much and I was worried sick; he was only ten, way too young to have to deal with all of this. 

No one should be dealing with all of this. 

When I arrived, Amy, the social worker dealing with Jude’s case, was pacing in front of the door. 

“I thought you would not make it,” she said, pulling me into the visitation room. 

“I know!” I gasped breathlessly. “Thank you for waiting.” 

She gave me a small smile. “You deserve someone cutting you some slack,” she said gently, bringing tears to my eyes. 

I was so unused to kindness recently. I had been lucky when she had been assigned my brother’s case. We’d been in the same high school even if she had been a senior when I joined and it created a sort of kinship that I was beyond grateful for. 

She opened the side door and spoke to someone; the door opened wider and my brother rushed in. 

“Cassie!” he shouted, running into my arms. 

I hugged him tightly. He was so short and frail. He might have been ten, but he didn’t look older than seven. He was my little man though; our parents had always been emotionally distant. It has always been Jude and me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be late,” I told him, caressing his dark-blond hair softly. 

He kept his arms around me and lifted his eyes, looking at me with his big, sad green eyes—much too weary for a little boy his age. 

“Are we okay now?” he asked with a small voice. 

I nodded. “Yes, we are. They’re not coming back.” I frowned, noticing the small bruise on his jawline. “What’s that?” I asked, brushing my fingers on it. 

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I fell.”

I looked up to Amy who looked at us with so much sorrow it cracked my heart open even more. I had to get him out of here. 

“I’ll take you home as soon as I can, li’l man. I swear I will.” 

“I know, Cassie. It’s okay. I’m okay here.” 

No, you’re not. You’re miserable, but you’re trying to be strong for me when you shouldn’t have to, I thought. “I know but I miss having you with me so I want to get you back as soon as possible.” I forced a smile I hoped looked genuine. “Who’s supposed to help me sample brownies now, huh?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sort of an expert.” 

I chuckled. “Yes, you are.” 

Amy sighed. “I’m sorry, guys, but Jude has to go back now.” 

I looked up and she looked really crestfallen. I was sure she had a soft spot for Jude, but then again, who didn’t? 

I nodded. “I’ll see you next week and we can video chat this week sometimes,” I said before throwing a quick look at Amy who nodded. She did that every week for us, using her own phone to allow Jude and I to talk for a few minutes. That woman really was a godsend and at least she helped us make this horrible situation just a little better. 

“Love you to the moon and back,” he said, hugging me tightly again. 

“Love you to the sun and back,” I replied, kissing the top of his head, already feeling the burn of my unshed tears at the back of my eyes. 

After he left, Amy turned toward me. 

“What really happened?” I asked, knowing full well that Jude’s bruise was not an accident. 

She sighed, shaking her head. “Kids have been tough on him,” she admitted reluctantly. “Being related to…” She winced. “It’s a heavy cross to bear.”

“I know. I’m planning to change our name as soon as I can get him back.” I sat on one of the uncomfortable orange chairs lining the visitation room. 

I knew I had to leave. There was no reason for me to still be here; the center was now closed to the public, but I just needed a few minutes. 

A few minutes with someone who looked at me, not as an accomplice to the monsters my parents were, but as one of their victims. 

“I’m just not convinced that day will ever come,” I admitted, and saying it out loud hurt more than I anticipated. 

“So they refused to take you back, huh?” she asked, coming to sit beside me, gripping my hand in hers. 

I nodded. “Yes, I can’t blame them though. The hospital had a hard time justifying my presence there and since nursing school kicked me out.” I shrugged. “What was the point of me working there anyway?” 

“We can fight their decision, you know. I looked into it and they had no grounds for dismissing you.”

I shook my head. “What’s the point? No one wants me there. The students look at me like I am a monster, the teachers too. And even if I force it, I need hospital training and no hospital will offer that to me.”

“Yeah.” She nodded with resignation. “What about your living situation?” 

“Still squatting on Mrs. Broussard’s futon.” I’d never been more grateful in my life. Mrs. Broussard had been working for my parents since I was five years old and when everything turned to shit, she’d been the only one offering me the helping hand I desperately needed despite her own children’s advice. “I need to give her back her space and stop eating her food.” I looked heavenward. “Nobody is willing to hire me in this town but—” I looked at the door connected to the living quarters my little brother occupied. “I just can’t leave; he needs me.” 

“You remember Ms. Lebowitz, don’t you?” 

I looked at her with confusion at the change of subject. “The high school career counselor?” 

She nodded. “She retired but I know she’s working part-time for the temp agency by the pharmacy.” Amy shrugged. “She always had a soft spot for her old students. Why don’t you go see her?” 

Ms. Lebowitz had been an older lady, an eccentric hippy, but she’d always seen more than she let on. She had known even then that I’d been the one caring for Jude. She was the one who suggested nursing school after seeing my caring nature. 

“I like her. It’s worth the shot.” I looked at my watch; it was much past the time and I didn’t need Amy to get into trouble and have Jude removed from her care due to her involvement with me. “What about Jude and his bruises?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve moved him into a room with younger kids. He’s okay now.” She answered my unspoken thoughts. 

I threw her a grateful look. “I need to go now. I have to grab my bus.” 

“Let me drive you home, please.” 

I nodded. The bus ride to Mrs. Broussard’s was going to take more than forty-five minutes, and I had to admit that, after the draining day I had, I was more than grateful to accept. 

“Why are you so nice to me”? I asked Amy as we took to the road. “Not that I’m not eternally grateful but—p”

She shrugged. “Call it empathy. I’ve seen you before at the hospital; you genuinely cared about the patients, and the way your brother talks about you? You’re his whole world. I’ve seen a lot of mean, heartless people in my line of work and you’re not one of them. You’re caring and loving and so obviously unaware of your parents’ monstrosities” She threw me a quick look full of concern. “You don’t deserve to be treated the way you are so if I can help ease this injustice just a little…I will.”

I looked away, blinking back my tears. Her words somehow gave me hope. Maybe others would see it too. Maybe others would cut me some slack and help me get Jude back. 

Yes, tomorrow was another day and I would turn the tide, no matter the sacrifices. 

For Jude. 

Chapter 1 – Violet 

“I’m not sure I’m following.” I breathed slowly as I fidgeted in front of Mr. Reynolds’ desk.

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, his round face much redder than usual. “Well, I’m not sure what there’s to follow here,” he snapped defensively. “This was a six-month training program. The six months are over, so you are not needed anymore.” He pointed at the door behind him. “Turn around and leave.”

Of course, he expected me to bow my head and leave. I was non-confrontational; I always followed every rule and every command to stay under the radar, to make sure I wasn’t too much of a burden on my mother. I just remained like that, even after her passing.

He expected for me to just walk away because he was the marketing director and I was the assistant of his assistant, but it was time for me to put my foot down. It was time for me to ask why, once again, I was losing the little something I had worked so hard to get.

I had nothing left to lose.

Please, God, cut me some slack. I really need a win.

“Sir, I’m sorry to insist, but when we were brought into this apprenticeship program, we were told that the best performer would be offered a permanent position. I’ve been assured through the monthly assessments that I would be offered this position. Mrs. Taylor even asked me to come back this morning to sign my contract and start the permanent position.”

His face grew redder as he adjusted his position on his seat, his imposing belly squeezing against his desk as he leaned forward. “Things change every day in the corporate world, Ms. Murphy. You would know that if you’d tried to educate yourself and didn’t drop out of school at sixteen.”

I inhaled sharply as I took the verbal blow. That one stung more than I expected, especially based on the reason I left school as young as I did.

It had never been my choice—no, it had been just another good thing life had stolen from me.

I blinked and looked down, having lost the small fire of injustice that had been burning—what had driven me to fight for myself.

He sighed. “Listen, companies are going through restructuring all the time—the position that once was to be filled doesn’t exist anymore.”

A flash of red in the corner of my eye attracted my attention, and I looked out the glass office wall to see Mr. Reynolds’ niece sitting at what was my desk for the past few months.

“I see…” I trailed off, too defeated to even try. It was nothing I had done, nothing the company had really done; it was just a simple case of nepotism.

He followed my eyes and glared at his niece, who gave him a sheepish smile before she twisted toward the screen.

Should I feel better that he wanted to hide this from me? Was it to preserve my tender feelings or to make sure I wouldn’t make a scene?

He sighed. “Listen, Violet.”

Ah, it was Violet now, was it? He obviously knew I was bright enough to catch up on the situation.

“You were good, very good even, and you’re not leaving empty-handed. We—” He looked around his desk and stopped on the leather-bound corporate checkbook. “If you’d let me finish before, you’d know that we decided to grant you a gracious, two-week bonus to thank you for all your hard work. Also know that should any entry position become available, your name will be at the top of the list.”

I looked at him as he grabbed the book and wrote me a check. Gracious? This apprenticeship barely paid minimum wage, and I had to work a few nights a week at the dry cleaner down the street just to make ends meet.

I was supposed to start a job today where my salary would have been forty-five thousand dollars a year. Nothing to write home about for most people, but for me… it would have changed my whole life.

Instead, I would leave with broken dreams, wasted time, and a check for… I extended my hand to grab the white piece of paper he extended and read the amount. $932.15?! Was he serious? I looked up at him. That asshole even took out taxes!

“This experience is invaluable, Violet. You’ve spent six months working for one of the biggest real estate companies in California. It’s not negligible, you know, and I’m willing to provide you with a stellar reference should you ever need one.”

I knew what he was not saying. Leave without making a scene, and I’ll help you.

I looked down at the check again. Lord, how I wish I didn’t need the money. That I could just crumple it up and shove it so deep down his throat he wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore.

I recoiled. Where did that even come from? I was not violent, never had been, but this compulsion…

It’s in your genes.

I shook my head and blinked as tears burned the back of my eyes.

“I… Yes, thank you, sir.” I was thanking the man who probably stole my only chance to make it out of my situation, just to give the job to his spoiled niece, who only wanted it as a whim or as a punishment.

“Don’t mention it. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

I nodded silently, completely exhausted and out of words, and turned around to leave.

“Violet?” he called just as I reached the door.

I turned my head toward him, hope blossoming in my heart against my own advice. Maybe he realized it was unfair, maybe he found a solution. Maybe he just—

“Don’t forget to leave your badge with security downstairs.”

My heart plummeted once again as shame at my own stupidity joined my other raging emotions.

I should have known better… When did life really cut people like me some slack?

I pulled the strap of my thrift store handbag higher on my shoulder and walked down the corridor with as much dignity as I could muster, trying to respond to the small, sad smiles people were giving me along the way.

Sandra, an assistant for the finance department, snuck into the elevator just as the door closed on me.

“It’s bullshit!” she spat, her cheeks red and eyes shining with a self-righteousness that somehow made me feel both better and worse.

“What is?”

“Everything!” She made a wide gesture with her hands, forcing me to take a sidestep to avoid getting poked in the eye by one of her sharp, pointy nails. “That fucking old pervert once again fucked this company by hiring one of his backward relatives, and no one bats an eye,” she huffed. “I swear, that man knows something to get away with that much shit.”

I agreed with her, of course. I had seen a lot of shit in the past six months, including the leering looks he had no place giving young women barely in adulthood, but I was not in the mood to fuel the fire. I was angry, yes, but mostly sad and tired, which all wrapped up in an overwhelming sense of defeat and doom.

“It is what it is.” I shrugged, willing the elevator to make its way down just a little faster.

It is what it is… The story of my life.

“I’m going to be fine; I’m not worried.” Maybe if I said that enough, I’ll believe it. I sighed with relief as the elevator beeped, announcing my destination had been reached. “You better go back up now before you get into trouble. See you around,” I added, quickly exiting the enclosed space, tightening my hold around the plastic pass in my hand, feeling it bite painfully in my palm.

I stopped by the white reception desk and met Reginald, who gave me the same sorry eyes as they did upstairs. He was from the same part of town as me, so he knew the extent of the opportunity that had been stolen from me.

“I’m sorry, little one,” he said soothingly, resting his big hand on top of mine.

I looked down at his gentle gesture and my shaky composure cracked, letting a few burning tears escape.

Reginald was a gentle father figure who had been showing me nothing but kindness since my first day here and had managed to make me feel comfortable when I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You’re twenty-one, baby girl; you’ll get back on your feet. I know you will.”

I sniffled, still keeping my eyes down, looking at my few tears shining on the white counter.

He squeezed my hand. “Let me call you an Uber; you deserve it. The company owes you this ride.”

“Thank you.” Normally I would have said no, fearing he would get into trouble.

But I didn’t feel like making the thirty-five-minute, two-bus trip back home wearing an itchy dress and the uncomfortable heels I bought at the charity shop down the street to help me look professional.

I had felt like a fraud all the way here, and now, on top of a fraud, I felt like a failure.

“The car will be out in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks, Reginald… for everything.”

“You’re welcome, little one. Don’t be a stranger.”

I walked out, deciding to wait for the car outside, hoping the warm sun would help me feel a little better.

I got my phone out and called Jake. I needed my boyfriend right now. I needed him to make me feel better, even if he had warned me from the start not to get my hopes up.

The phone went straight to voicemail. He was probably in ‘the zone,’ working on some of his freelance projects.

I sighed, putting the phone back in my bag as a green sedan slowed and stopped in front of me.

“Car for Violet?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I sat in the back and instead of giving him my address, I gave him Jake’s. He lived much farther from the downtown area and somehow, the small pettiness of knowing this ride would cost them double to take me there, instead of my small studio apartment, made me feel a little better. I was sticking it to the man—even if it was for a meager thirty dollars.

Jake didn’t live in my run-down neighborhood. He’d managed to escape and take a few steps up the ladder of life and live in an area with fewer guns than people. He ‘made it,’ as he loved to repeat every chance he had.

I was sure he could take a break from his current project and make me feel better. I closed my eyes and leaned against the headrest, letting the car vibrations lull me and relieve some of the stress.

I couldn’t help but wince at the thought of going back to work at Sunset Strip, the supposedly ‘high-end’ gentlemen’s club that was harboring the same type of perverts as cheap strip clubs had, except clients had thicker wallets… and blacker hearts.

I sighed, opening my eyes and meeting the driver’s curious gaze just before he looked at the road again.

I could already picture Liam’s smirk when I go back and ask for my barmaid job back. How he would give me part two of the speech he gave me when I told him I was leaving. He would tell me, yet again, that Sunset Strip was a family and you don’t just walk away from your family. Then, in his magnanimous kindness, and in memory of his father and my mother, he would give me my job back.

I couldn’t help the little grunt of annoyance that escaped my mouth at the thought.

“You belong here, Violet, like your mother. Why are you trying so hard to make it out?” Because I didn’t want the same life she had; because she wanted nothing more than for me to make it out. Because I owed it to her to try my hardest.

“Hello? Miss?”

My eyes shot open and I looked out of the window, startled to have been nudged out of my thoughts.

I stared at Jake’s small bungalow across the street, trying to regroup my thoughts and composure, at least long enough to tell him everything.

”Is it the wrong address?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

“No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head and opened the door. “It’s right, sorry.”

He mumbled something under his breath, and I’d barely closed the door behind me before the car had shot off.

I crossed the street and stopped on the sidewalk, frowning at the small red car parked just behind Jake’s Volvo.

It was quite a popular little car, yet something made me take a few tentative steps toward it as a bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

My frown deepened as I noticed the pair of mini red stilettos dangling from the rearview mirror. It might have been a very common car, but that keepsake? It wasn’t.

This was Serena’s car. Serena, my supposed friend and one of the most popular strippers at Sunset. Serena, who lived on the other side of town and who had only met Jake twice before.

I turned toward the house and walked slowly as the bad feeling turned into ice in my stomach.

The closer I got to the front door, the more I was hyperventilating, imagining the worst.

There must be an explanation. It could just be a coincidence.

Jake wouldn’t do that to me, not after all the things I’ve been through. I told him I wanted to wait, that my virginity had value to me, and he said he was okay with that. He said he would wait as long as necessary, and despite being together for over a year, he’d never pressured me. I was scared to find out now why it might have been the case.

Bile rose in my throat as I reached the front door, unsure I wanted to face what could be happening or, if nothing sordid was happening, face my own unwarranted mistrust. I thought I was past my trust issues. I thought I was ready for the next steps in this relationship, but if a simple coincidence could shake the whole foundation of our relationship, then maybe I was not quite there yet.

I raised my hand to knock but thought better of it, and looked around, trying to figure out where he hid the emergency key.

I looked under the potted plants on his patio and under the door mat without any luck before I remembered he bought this stupid fake stone during one of our Target trips.

I looked around and, despite the worry brewing inside me, I smiled when I noticed it at the foot of the bushes brushing the wooden stairs.

I grabbed it and let out a little huff of relief when I found the key nestled inside it.

If nothing seedy was happening, he’ll probably question my uninvited pop-in, but I was too concerned to think more of it right now.

I opened the door slowly and didn’t have to question my decision as I heard a guttural moan of pleasure.

I tightened my hold on the key, feeling its ridges on my palm as I took one slow step after the other, trying to make sure he would not hear my stupid square heels thunk against his wooden flooring.

The closer I got to his room, the louder he became. I could also hear Serena call his name, asking him to fuck her harder with his big, fat cock.

I stopped, resting my hand against the wall as my stomach heaved violently.

I almost wished I could vomit right now and have him clean it after he sealed my horrible day with the worst betrayal.

I shook my head. I had enough! I couldn’t continue to torture myself, listening to the sound of their pleasure. They needed to know that I knew.

The door of the bedroom was ajar, and I shoved it open, making it slam against the wall—the lovely yellow wall I’d painted for him last month.

How fucking stupid had I been! I wanted to help him have a nice home—where I thought I would move into one day, but clearly, not in the optic to have him fuck another woman.

Despite knowing what I was going to find, it was almost too much to see.

Her, on all fours, on top of the sunflower bedspread I had picked to match the room, and him, fisting her long ponytail as he hammered into her from behind, his head thrown back in pure abandon.

She shrieked when she saw me and fell face-first onto the bed.

He looked back and his face shifted from unadulterated pleasure to shock in an instant, and despite the ripping pain, I felt a little better knowing I’d ruined his pleasure—just as he’d just ruined a year of my life.

I would not become my mother!

I turned around and started to run when he shouted my name. I ran out and down the street, my vision blurry with tears and my legs wobbling, both from the painful turmoil inside me and the heels I was not used to wearing.

I heard him call my name again and realized he was following me into the street!

Fuck! I ran faster, despite my burning eyes compromising my vision. I took random side streets just to ditch him.

I crossed a street without looking—a mistake, one of many, really—but the one I realized was going to cost me my life as I saw the shape of a black car come racing toward me.

My ankle twisted as my heel met an unevenness in the middle of the road, and I fell heavily.

I heard the horn, the squealing of the tires, and closed my eyes tightly, bracing for impact.

Yep, I was going to die today, in disgrace and in shame… It was ironic how things had come full circle.

I was going to die the same way I was born.