"Got it."

Blake watched me rise from my seat, something shifting behind his eyes. Then he stepped forward and caught my arm, his voice dropping a few degrees softer. "There's a gala this afternoon. Come with me."

I was about to refuse, but he cut me off.

"It's Fiona's first time at one of these events. You can carry her train and help her look the part."

I froze. It was so absurd I almost laughed.

Then I thought about how little time I had left, and I swallowed whatever words were forming.

Before the gala, Fiona claimed she didn't have a suitable gown.

She went through my closet and, with surgical precision, picked out the most extravagant birthday gift Blake had ever given me—a one-of-a-kind dress valued at six hundred million dollars, along with the matching jewelry set.

She walked in on Blake's arm. I walked behind her, holding up her train. She became the belle of the ball.

The mockery and whispers followed me like a shadow.

"You have to hand it to Vance—he's got his women trained. His wife carries his mistress's dress, and she doesn't make a peep."

"Wife? Didn't you hear? Vance already got his marriage certificate with the little mistress. Theresa Sullivan is just some used-up rag he strung along for ten years. She's nothing."

"How stupid do you have to be to walk away with nothing after a whole decade? Honestly, living like that—worse than a dog—she might as well be dead."

I fled the ballroom and locked myself in the restroom.

That was where I heard someone ribbing Blake outside.

"Blake, Theresa stuck by you for ten years. You really went and got the certificate with that little flower?"

"The girl wanted security. It's just a piece of paper. What difference does it make?"

"What if Theresa leaves? No regrets?"

My heart clenched. Then I heard him laugh, lazy and careless.

"Theresa's entire world is me. Ten years by my side—I've already ruined her for anything else. At this point, she's no different from a dirty old rag."

"I know her too well. Even after I'm done with her, she'll still be standing right where I left her, waiting like a good girl."

The rest of his words dissolved into static.

I walked to the sink and splashed water on my face, again and again, until I bit down hard on the base of my thumb.

I watched the water drip into the basin, mixing with tears I refused to let anyone hear.

Blake Vance, this time you bet wrong.

This dirty rag you threw away won't be waiting for you anymore.

I turned and walked out of the restroom.

A slap cracked across my face before I even saw it coming.

I pressed my hand to my burning cheek and turned, disbelief flooding through me.

Fiona rolled her wrist, every trace of sweetness stripped from her face like a mask torn off. "You heard everything. Blake already married me. And you're still clinging to him like some shameless parasite? Have you no dignity?"

"If you love being some man's free entertainment that badly, go find a street corner."

"Then again, a desperate little freebie who let herself get used for ten years—you're only fit to pair up with the gutter trash in the slums."

A ringing filled my skull. The world narrowed to the woman's vicious face, her mouth opening and closing, spitting poison.

Rage burned through me until it came out as a laugh. But Fiona didn't give me a chance to fight back. She let out a sudden shriek, clawed open the front of her gown, and threw herself backward.

"Theresa!"

The voice behind me was ice.

Blake rushed past me and caught Fiona, pulling her into his arms.

She collapsed against him, sobbing on cue, tears materializing from nowhere. "Blake, I'm the other woman. I'm the one who ruined things between you and Miss Sullivan. It's all my fault. I never should have shown up. I'm the horrible one."

Then she slapped herself across the face. Hard. Twice.

Blake grabbed her hands. His brows trembled. His jaw was tight.

"Who said those things to you?"

Fiona bit her lip, fingers twisting into the fabric of her dress until her knuckles went white. "Please. Don't ask."

But when her gaze swept over me, she shrank back, shaking her head in wide-eyed terror.

"Someone like me has no business crossing women like you—rich, powerful, untouchable." I looked at him. "Blake, I'm not worthy of you. Just let me go. I don't want to end up dead one day for no reason at all."

He frowned, his gaze turning sharp and hostile.

"Explain yourself."

I lowered my hand, revealing the swollen red mark on my cheek.

"You should ask her what she said."

"Miss Sullivan!" Fiona shrieked, her voice pitched high and piercing. "Yes, I slapped you—because you threatened my parents' lives! They're just ordinary people! If hitting me back will make you feel better, go ahead. I'm begging you, just don't hurt them."

My eyes burned scarlet with fury. "You're lying! You were the one who—"

"Enough." Blake's cold voice cut me off. He looked at me with open disappointment. "Theresa, I've spoiled you rotten."

"What, you think because you have no parents, I won't touch you?"

Maybe I'd already seen it coming. Maybe my heart had gone cold long before this.

I laughed—a hollow, useless sound. My eyes stung so badly they ached. "So how exactly do you plan to stand up for your wife?"

He walked toward me, slow and deliberate, then peeled the ring from my finger—the one he'd made with his own hands after earning his first real money.

He turned to his assistant.

"Call the police. My wife's jewelry has been stolen. Caught red-handed."

I forgot how to move. My mind went blank.

Blake's rise to the top had never been a gentle one. He was used to being ruthless.

I was his only soft spot.

Right or wrong, he'd always taken my side. No questions asked.

Not a single person in Riverport had ever dared play dirty with me.

But now, the one driving the knife into my chest was him.

Blake turned the ring over between his fingers. Through the tears pooling in my eyes, his cold features blurred into something I no longer recognized.

"Tessa, you've been very disobedient. Go in and reflect on what you've done for a few days."

"Don't worry—it won't be long. When you come out, I'll put the ring back on your finger myself."

I twisted my lips into something bitter.

Officers walked in. As the handcuffs closed around my wrists, I pulled my hand free from his grip, my face completely expressionless.

The sudden emptiness in his palm made Blake frown. He stared at my retreating back, seized by the irrational feeling that he would never hold on to me again.

He started to step forward, but Fiona was faster—hooking her arm through his.

"Blake, thank you for standing up for me. That was terrifying."

He clicked his tongue and pinched her cheek, indulgent. "What do you want as compensation?"

Fiona beamed, plucked the ring from his hand, and tossed it into the trash.

His expression shifted. She immediately let her eyes redden with hurt. "Was it that important?"

She made a show of reaching into the trash can. "Fine, I'll fish it out. Ten years of history—even if she hurt me, I don't want to make things hard for you."

Blake caught her by the waist, his heart melting completely. "Nothing's more important than you. Don't dirty your hands. Here—take the black card. Buy whatever you want."

Fiona huffed and refused. "I don't want your money. I only love you."

"Right, right. I'm the one who wants to spend money on my wife. If you won't let me, I'll feel terrible."

Only then did she accept it, feigning reluctance.

Three days later, I was dragged out of the detention cell in a daze.

They brought me straight to a private lounge at a club.

I pushed the door open. There on the sofa, dead center, Blake and Fiona were sharing a grape between their lips.

The grape slipped. They fell into a deep, tangled kiss.

The hooting and whistling from the men and women around them was loud enough to bring the ceiling down.

I didn't know how long I stood there before Blake finally noticed me in the doorway.

His eyes locked on my gaunt, colorless face. His expression darkened instantly. "What happened? Did someone give you trouble in there?"

Before I could say a word, Fiona let out a sharp little laugh.

"You really know how to play a man's heartstrings, Miss Sullivan. With your history with Blake, who would dare lay a finger on you? That sickly makeup is incredibly realistic, by the way. Must've taken you ages."

Blake had been about to stand. At her words, he settled back down.

He tapped out a cigarette, leaned into the lighter Fiona held up for him, and lit it.

Smoke curled around his features, blurring them. Only his eyes were clear, fixed on me with barely concealed impatience.

"Since you've had time to reflect, come apologize to Fiona."

Fiona sat nestled in Blake's arms, dressed head to toe in white, the picture of innocence. She swirled a glass of something potent, its proof unknown.

"I don't actually want to make things difficult for you."

"But you insulted my parents. Anyone would be upset, right?"

She paused, then gasped with theatrical surprise. "Oh, wait. I forgot. Your parents dumped you when you were little. You're just a pathetic thing nobody wanted."

I said nothing.

She set the glass on the coffee table and smiled. "Go ahead. Apologize."

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry."

Fiona shook her head. "Just words? That's not sincere at all. This is a hundred-and-twenty-proof drink. Finish it."

I stared at the green liquid fizzing in the glass and instinctively looked at Blake.

During those years I'd fought beside him to build everything from nothing, I'd destroyed my stomach at countless business dinners. I'd been rushed to the ICU more than once. Blake had been terrified. He swore he'd never let me touch alcohol again.

He knew better than anyone what I'd looked like on that operating table, half-dead.

But the man sitting in front of me now just exhaled a lazy ring of smoke. His expression was indifferent, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Tessa, it's one drink. Your tolerance isn't that bad."

I'd stopped expecting anything from him a long time ago. But my heart still clenched, beyond my control.

I picked up the glass and swallowed it down.

The burn seared from my throat straight into my stomach. A weight dropped through my lower abdomen, and the pain buckled my knees. I staggered two steps.

"Miss Sullivan holds her liquor so well. Then you might as well finish the rest of these too."

Fiona pointed at the row of colorful drinks lined up on the table.

My expression went cold.

Fiona turned to Blake, eyes brimming with hurt. "Blake, she called me a homewrecker. She threatened to kill my parents. The emotional damage alone... all I'm asking for is this tiny bit of compensation. Is that really too much?"

"Of course not." Blake pulled her closer, grinding his cigarette into the ashtray as though the answer were obvious. "Tessa, I'd like to help you, but you went too far. Do what Fiona says. Once she's not angry anymore, you can make amends."

I nodded calmly.

Pressing one hand against my abdomen, where the pain twisted like a blade, I reached past the glasses and picked up the full decanter. "A few drinks aren't enough to make amends. I'll finish the bottle."

When the empty decanter hit the floor, I couldn't hold it back. Blood sprayed from my mouth, spattering the tile. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the ground.

Fiona recoiled several steps in disgust. "Miss Sullivan, it was just one bottle. Did you really have to break out the fake blood?"

Blake bought it. His brow creased with irritation. "Enough. How long are you going to keep up the act? Fiona's been more than generous with you. Stop embarrassing yourself and get up."

I didn't speak. I just lifted my head and looked at him.

The woman closest to me suddenly screamed.

"Blood! There's blood all over her pants. She's... oh God, she's having a miscarriage..."

I met Blake's eyes as every drop of color drained from his face. And I smiled. The first real smile I'd managed all day.

"Your child. I've given that to her too. Is it enough now?"