Chapter 3

I had just stepped through the front door when a photo popped up on my phone—from Lily Monroe. In the picture, Lily and Jack Harlan clung to each other, their eyes locked in a gaze so thick with longing it nearly spilled out of the screen. "See it?" Lily's message read. "Jack loves me." I let out a bitter laugh. Of course I saw it. I'd seen far worse. In my past life, they'd stumbled into bed together after a night of drinking. It was me who'd scrubbed the evidence—their shameful video—from every corner of the internet. If I hadn't, Jack, the esteemed professor at medical school, would've been the laughingstock of campus. My thumb hovered over the delete button. But Jack's mother, Evelyn Harlan, passing by in the hallway, caught sight of the screen. Her hand trembled as she snatched the phone from me. The color drained from her face as she stared at the image. I opened my mouth to comfort her. Before I could speak, she gripped my shoulder firmly. "Emily, don't you worry. I'll talk some sense into that rotten boy of mine. You just hold your head high." She dialed Jack immediately. The call connected in seconds—and a wall of deafening club music blasted through the speaker. Evelyn's expression hardened further. Then came Jack's ragged breathing, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of a kiss. Evelyn's knuckles whitened around the phone. A vein pulsed at her temple. Jack's voice cut through, sharp with irritation: "Emily Harper, what the hell do you want? I told you not to bother me! Why do you keep crawling back like some pathetic leech? Seriously, just leave me alone!" Evelyn snapped. "Jack Harlan! You get your ass home—now." When Jack finally walked through the Harlan front door, both sets of parents were waiting in the living room. Thomas and Evelyn sat rigid on the sofa, faces stormy. My own parents, Martha and Robert, looked uneasy but tried to smooth things over. "Jack's still young," Robert said gently. "Let's just talk this through calmly." Jack barely glanced at me before his hand cracked across my cheek. His voice was shrill, venomous. "You've got a real foul mouth, Emily. Can't even keep your damn legs shut. Should've ripped that lying tongue out of your head ages ago." The slap wasn't strong—but it sent my head spinning. In that instant, the last flicker of love I'd held for him vanished. I pressed my lips together and sat down without a word. Evelyn stood, trembling with fury. "You and Emily are getting engaged at the end of the month! How could you do this? What about your father and me—what about our reputation? Have you forgotten how you cried and begged to marry her when you were kids?" I froze. Suddenly, I remembered that golden evening years ago. Our parents had brought us home together after a neighborhood picnic. Jack, no older than ten, had thrown a tantrum in the driveway—sobbing, clinging to my hand, insisting he'd marry me someday. "I'll always be with Emily!" he'd shouted, eyes wide and sincere. That boy—the one who'd looked at me like I was the whole world—now overlapped in my mind with the man who despised me. Then Jack exploded. "I don't love Emily! Why the hell do you keep forcing me to be with her? I hate her!" His voice cracked, wild and desperate. "If you love her so much, why don't you just marry her off to Dad? Then you could all be one big happy family—sisters, mothers, whatever! Why does it have to be me—?" Evelyn's hand flew out before he could finish. The slap echoed through the room—sharp, final—swallowing the rest of his words in its wake.