VERONICA POV Jason freezes when he notices me, his icy blue eyes blown wide like a kid caught stealing. Moni doesn't stop right away-she keeps riding him for one more second, hips rolling lazily, before she finally turns her head, annoyed, like I've interrupted her favorite scene. "Fuck," he mutters, pushing Moni off him slowly. Moni scrambles across the bed, yanking a blanket over her naked body. She glances back at Jason, lips pursed in frustration. "Seriously, baby? I was so close to cumming..." "Why are you home so early?" I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing once before the words come out. "Seriously? That's what you're worried about?" "Oh please..." Moni drawls with a bored sigh, stretching like a cat. "Can we drop the pathetic acting already?" She places a hand against her stomach, then smirks at me, eyes gleaming like she's showing off a trophy. "Isn't it the perfect time to let my beloved best friend know I'm pregnant?" The room tilts. My vision blurs at the edges. Her words echo like gunshots in my skull. My stomach twists so hard I press a hand to it; afraid I might be sick right there. "You're lying..." I whisper, my voice barely audible. I need it to be a lie. I need anything but this. But Moni only laughs-that cruel little giggle she does when she knows she's won. "Two months," she sing-songs, tapping her tummy lightly. "Congrats, bestie-you're officially invited to be maid of honor at the wedding. Three months from now." I stare at her stomach, then at her face, voice shaking as the math refuses to add up. "But... How can you be pregnant? You just got into Los Angeles last month." Moni's smile only widens, like she's savoring every second of my confusion. Jason finally meets my eyes instead, no guilt, just tired resignation. "I've been going to Dallas to visit her. For a while now." The words land like a slap. "How could you do this to me? Is this why you've barely even come home in days?" He shrugs, the smallest movement, like it costs him nothing. "Well... now you know," he says, his tone disturbingly calm. He reaches for Moni's hand, lacing their fingers together as if I'm invisible. "We're getting married in three months. I'll send you an invite if you want... though the banquet hall's strict about plus-ones." I cut him with a look so sharp he shuts up mid-sentence. Banquet hall? Plus-ones? They planned an entire future while I was desperately trying to save whatever was left of us. My knees buckle slightly; I catch myself on the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood. Jason's gaze finally hardens, his voice dropping to something low. "It's pathetic that you ever imagined I could love someone like you. You're not just beneath me, you're irrelevant. You have no sense of yourself, nothing that could ever make you worthy of anyone, let alone me. It would be an absolute shame to my reputation if you carried my child." I nod, blinking hard as my eyes sting. Moni slinks against Jason's chest again, tracing circles over his skin with her fingertips. "Don't bother explaining, baby. She's not worth it." She glances at me with mock pity. She licks her lips. "Continue wrecking my pussy, daddy." They kiss, and Jason starts guiding her backward toward the bed again. She glances at me over his shoulder. "You're welcome to watch, though," she giggles, covering her mouth like she's shy. I bite the inside of my cheek. I can't take it anymore. My chest burns with humiliation. I turn and storm down the hall, tears finally spilling, hot and relentless across my cheeks. ****** I barely remember the drive back to the house, just long enough to grab my keys and change. The café dress hit the floor; a tight red one took its place. I curled my hair into soft body waves, but my hands were trembling so badly from thinking about everything that I wasn't even paying attention. The curling iron slipped and burned my neck. I barely felt it. Tears streaked my face the whole drive to the nearest bar. "Again," I murmur, raising the empty glass higher. "Ma'am... are you absolutely sure about this? This would be your third shot in less than thirty minutes." "Yes. Just... pour it." He hesitates, then pours without another word. I should be here, drinking and dancing with my boyfriend for absolutely no reason, just like we used to. Instead, I'm drinking to distract myself from him. I'm so stupid for not seeing this coming sooner. Thinking back, the red flags were obvious... but I never let myself think too much about them. "Get me a glass of whiskey and a vodka for the lady over here," a deep voice says from behind me. I don't bother turning around. I don't care who it is right now. "Is it your cheating boyfriend that got you in the mood?" "I'm not really a party person," I mutter. "Same here," he replies coolly. "I'm only here out of obligations." Silence stretches between us for a long moment. Wait-how does he know about a cheating boyfriend? Or is it just a lucky guess? Most women who drag themselves into a club looking as broken as I do right now probably have the exact same story. The bartender slides my drink in front of me. I take a long sip, waiting for the alcohol to finish numbing everything. Every time I replay the scene in my head, it tears me apart a little more. So this is it. This is how my entire life shatters into pieces. How could they do this to me? They're getting married. They're having a baby soon. My first love... the one I imagined marrying... the one I dreamed of starting a family with... and now he's living that life with my best friend. "Thank you for the drink," I finally say, turning to look at the stranger. He meets my gaze without flinching. "Right now, my employer, Mr. Xavier Cross, noticed you seemed like you could use a quiet place upstairs." Xavier Cross. The name echoes in my foggy mind. I know he's important... someone huge... but everything feels too blurry right now. "He wants you in his private lounge. I'll show you the way upstairs," he says, his tone sharp and precise. My stomach twists. I have so many questions, but I'm terrified they'll come out sounding ridiculous. "Oh, please," I manage to say. "As you probably guessed earlier, I just got out of a toxic relationship." I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "I don't think I want to see any man right now. If he wants me, he can show up himself-that's more appropriate. I'm done trying so hard for men." His brows lift, incredulous. "Alright... let me drop the professionalism for a second. Are you seriously turning down Mr. Cross? Do you even realize how rare it is for someone to get anywhere near him?" I open my mouth, about to say something, but a sharp, shrill ring cuts through the air. My stomach drops instantly. I never get random calls-except from Moni, or Diana about some stupid group project. "I'm sorry... I have to take this." He pulls back immediately, his expression tightening. I fumble for my phone in the pocket of my shirt. The screen reads "Mom." She literally never calls. This is beyond weird. My thumb hovers a second before I swipe to answer. "Veronica! Please, come home immediately." The line goes dead. I stare at the screen, the call duration frozen at four seconds. My heart slams so hard I can feel it in my throat. She sounded panicked; Mom never panicked-ever. "I... I have to go right now... sir," I say, my voice cracking despite my effort to stay calm. "Thank you... for the drink, by the way," I whisper, still clutching my phone. The moment I burst through the front door at home, I find Mom crumpled on the cold floor, sobbing uncontrollably, while Diana kneels beside her, patting her back gently. "What's wrong, Mom? Please, what's wrong? Somebody say something..." "Your father was taken away by the ambulance."

VERONICA POV "Taken away? What happened to him?" Mom sobs even harder, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she buries her face in her hands. "Mom, please... Diana... someone, anyone, say something," I beg, my voice cracking as I drop to my knees beside them on the cold floor. Diana wipes her own tears away with the back of her hand, her eyes red and swollen. "Dad's brain inflammation wasn't properly treated in the first place." She takes a shaky breath. "Earlier today, he woke up feeling severely nauseated... he couldn't eat anything at all... he just said he wanted to take a quick nap." "Mom and I thought it was just stress making him sleep for so many hours... but then when I went to check on him... his hands were ice-cold. For one terrifying second, I thought he was dead... but I pressed my fingers to his neck and found his heart still faintly beating." "Mom immediately called 911... they sent an ambulance, and they took him away to the hospital." "They called back not long after to tell us..." She trails off, voice breaking, unable to finish. My heart hammers painfully in my chest. "Told you what?" I ask, my whole body already shaking uncontrollably. "Th... that Dad has a tumor in his brain..." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... no, hell fucking no. I scream at the top of my lungs, slamming my fists hard against the nearest wall even though the impact sends sharp pain shooting through my knuckles. "What exactly did the health insurance say? Is it curable at all?" "Yes... it is curable." "Then let's proceed with treating him right away..." "That's exactly the problem," she says, her voice trembling. "The surgeons say they can't schedule without a $27,000 deposit and they want it upfront because of hospital policy for major neurosurgery. My stomach drops. "So how much is the full payment...?" "Seventy-five thousand dollars." "Oh shit... how on earth are we supposed to afford that huge amount of money?" "Well... we still have about a month or more to raise the funds... but Dad will remain in the hospital under observation so they can monitor him closely." I swallow hard. Before I could force out another word, my phone buzzed sharply. I fish it out of my pocket with trembling fingers. The name flashing on the screen: Jason. The message reads: I heard about your dad. I might have a suggestion though. Come outside. Let's talk in person. I stand up quickly; legs unsteady and hurry out of the living room without explanation. I push through the front door and step into the cool air. Jason leans casually against his matte black Bentley, arms folded tightly across his chest, looking infuriatingly handsome as usual. Jesus... I hate how irresistibly good he still looks. But I can't ever see him the same way again. Not after he called me irrelevant. Fuck him and everything he's done. "Why are you here?" I ask, folding my arms. "Because I can help you." "I already know about your dad's illness. I also know for a fact your family can't possibly raise that amount of money... but I can." My brows furrow. "Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?" He laughs, low and mocking. "Poor people and having way too much audacity really are best friends." I open my mouth to snap something vicious, but the words die-he's offering help. I have to swallow my self-respect if it means saving my father. "Wait... are you actually saying you're going to pay for my dad's treatment?" He nods once. "Yes." "But-" I cut him off before he could finish. "Oh, let me guess... it comes with a price." "Well said, sweetheart." "What's the condition, then?" "I got an email that my adoptive father is back in Los Angeles." Jason says, his voice casual but edged with intent. "So the board at his company decides to throw him a welcome soirée-a themed, fancy masked affair. He glances at me, waiting for some kind of reaction. I don't give him one. "Anyway," he continues, scratching the side of his jaw, "I need you to come as my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend. Preferably convincing." I stay silent, my throat tight. "Look, I've got this feeling-he's gonna sign the property over right there at the soirée. That's why the whole production." He shrugs one shoulder. "Gotta look stable, gotta look like I've got my shit together. "And you... you clean up nice. You look presentable in that kind of setting." I blink. Clean up nice. Look presentable in that kind of setting. I swallow hard. The words land somewhere between compliment and insult and I'm not sure which hurts more. Why doesn't he pick Moni as his girlfriend? Doesn't she look presentable? But I don't even have the strength to question him. "I doubt I'd even recognize the old man if I ran into him," he adds with a lazy shrug. "The last time I saw him, I was barely eight. Everything else I know about him comes from photos I stumble across online during his meetings." His adoptive father is this huge legacy figure almost nobody actually knows. Jason always says the man stays completely anonymous; he hasn't seen him or even spoken to him in nearly twenty years. That's how distant he is. But at least he'd hired a mother who actually stuck around and took care of him. "Okay... that's fine. I'll do it," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper as I force the words out. Jason's lips curve into a slow smile. "Princess, that's not all." He pauses, watching my face. "My father leaves LA days after the soirée, but that doesn't mean our contract ends." My stomach twists as he goes on. "Moni and I are getting married soon. After we're married, I'll be requesting an open marriage." He shrugs lightly. "I want you to drop out of Med school and become my full-time mistress. You know how quickly I get bored of overused pussy." I stare at him with my jaw practically on the ground. "Excuse me? I manage. "You want me to what?" "Drop out of Med school and become my full-time mistress." His gaze drops to my body for a second, then back up, almost thoughtful. "Your pussy gets so creamy so fast... always did. Way better than hers. She takes forever, barely gets wet. But I want her anyway. My friends all want her, so I want her too. Simple." My stomach twists hard. Nausea rises in my throat. I feel small, used, stupid. "How could you even say such to me?" I snap, anger flaring hot. "You want Moni to suffer in that marriage? Then why the hell marry her in the first place?" "Oh please," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Shut up and stop acting like such a hypocrite. Aren't you a whore already?" "You have the fucking audacity to call me a whore?" He doesn't blink, just holds my gaze, cold and steady. "Jason... leave my house right now," I say through clenched teeth, "before I do something that lands me in lifetime imprisonment." "I do not want your help." "But your family desperately does," he counters coolly, tilting his head. "Your mom was the one who called me earlier, begging if I could raise the funds." My fists clench at my sides. I wouldn't be dealing with all this embarrassment right now if Mom hadn't called him. Even so, I can't tell her I broke up with Jason. She'd call me ungrateful even after knowing the whole situation. If Dad finds out when he recovers, I'm afraid that would be the absolute worst. He might actually hate me forever or even kick me out. "Well, I've done my part," he says, straightening. "The ball's in your court now. When you've finally agreed to be my full-time mistress... you know my number. Call me." "I will do no such thing." He smirks wider, turning toward his car. "Okay then. I guess I'll have a funeral to attend in a bit." I blink, the threat sinking in cold and heavy. He's right-I have no other way to get such a huge amount of money in a month. Sigh. I have to do this. I cross my arms tightly over my chest. "Let's make the deal even." "So, neither of us gets disappointed. I come to the welcome soirée, play the girlfriend in front of your adoptive father...you give me half the hospital bill money for my dad upfront. Then, when I choose to be your full-time mistress, you pay the rest. Is that fair?" He shrugs, considering it for a beat. "This sounds like a scam... but fine. I have no other alternative, so I'll go with your-" "Wait... what?" His eyes snap to my neck, brows shooting up in mock surprise. "What's that mark on your neck?" "What mark?" "Don't play stupid. Who have you been seeing, Veronica?" I freeze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of answering. "Why do you even care, Jason?" "Because you're mine," he says, voice dropping low and possessive as he steps closer. "And you will always be mine." I want to laugh at the absurdity and cry from the pain all at once. "I am not yours anymore, Jason." "Then fine. Suit yourself." He sneers. "Spread your legs wide for whoever wants you-because that's all you're good for, whore." "I'm not taking that bullshit from you, Jason." My voice rises. "Don't you ever call me a whore. I'm not one. You took my virginity, remember?" "Virginity?" He lets out a low, mocking laugh. "That doesn't make you special, Veronica. That just made you easier to leave." My heart hammers so hard I swear it's trying to punch through my ribs. How could he say that? After five years-after everything-I was just... easier to leave? "Veronica, explain why there's a hickey on your neck this instant." My hand flies up to touch the spot. At that moment, I realize the mark was from my curling iron while getting dressed for the bar. "Tell me, who have you been seeing?" "That's none of your concern," I retort sharply, yanking my arm back. "Answer my goddamn question," he practically yells, grip tightening. "It's just my curling iron, Jason," I say quickly. He narrows his eyes, jaw clenched. "Do I look like a fool to you? I know a hickey when I see one. You know what? Fuck it. You don't worth my time." He turns abruptly, heading to his car. He grabs a sleek Zara bag from the passenger seat and shoves it toward me. "This is yours. Wear it when you come to the party. And don't be late." "What about the money?" I call after him. "Will you give it to me now, or after I play the fake girlfriend in front of your dad?" "After the role," he calls out as he pauses halfway into the driver's seat.