Chapter 4

I woke again to the hushed murmurs of a hospital room, the sterile scent a familiar, unwelcome companion. Eric, his face pale and etched with concern, was holding my hand. His eyes, usually so vibrant, were tinged with a look of profound guilt and sorrow.

"Claire-bear, thank God you're awake," he whispered, his voice thick with what sounded like genuine emotion. He squeezed my hand, a gesture that once would have brought me comfort, but now only intensified the churning nausea in my stomach. "I was so worried. The doctor said you collapsed from exhaustion and extreme emotional distress. I-I'm so sorry. I promise, I'll make it up to you. I'll take care of you, always. We'll never have another fight like that again."

He seemed so sincere, so utterly devastated. He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "I've already called your office. Told them you need a week off, paid. You just focus on resting, my love. I'll be right here."

I lay there, still and silent, watching him. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, a master manipulator. His performance was flawless, his concern so believable it almost made me doubt my own eyes. But the images of him and Janessa, laughing, embracing, sharing their secret life, were burned into my memory.

My mind, however, was numb. The anger, the pain, had drained me completely. I had no fight left in me, no energy to scream or cry. I simply watched as he fluttered around the room, fetching water, adjusting my pillow, his movements a parody of a devoted partner.

He had always been like this. Since high school, Eric had been the picture of the attentive boyfriend. Always bringing me my favorite snacks, peeled and cut fruit, placed meticulously in my hand. He never missed a birthday, an anniversary, or any small milestone, always with a thoughtful gift. When he proposed to me after our high school graduation, his eyes shining with youthful earnestness, I, a naive girl, had fallen head over heels. My first love, my everything.

"Claire, promise me you'll never leave," he had pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't imagine a life without you." And I, with my heart pounding, had promised.

Janessa, my best friend, had been wary of him then. "He's not good enough for you, Claire," she'd often say, her voice tinged with an odd mix of concern and disdain. "He' s too smooth, too charming. Be careful." I, ever the peacemaker, had always defended him, trying to bridge the gap between my two most important people.

When college came, and our paths diverged-he to law school in California, me to marketing in New York-I'd cried for days. The thought of being apart was unbearable. It was Janessa who had offered a solution.

"Don't worry, Claire," she had said, patting my hand. "I'm going to the same law school as Eric. I'll keep an eye on him for you. If he so much as looks at another girl, I'll tell you immediately." She had sounded so sincere, so loyal. "I'll be your spy, your guardian angel. You can trust me."

I had beamed, grateful for her unwavering support. I even told Eric, half-jokingly, "Janessa's going to be my eyes and ears out there, so no funny business!" He had laughed, pulling me close, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Never, Claire-bear. You're the only one for me. You know that."

I had believed them both. I had truly believed I had the best boyfriend and the best best friend in the entire world. They had woven their lies so expertly, preying on my trust, on my generosity, on my blind faith. They knew I rarely checked social media, trusting their direct updates. They knew I was too busy, too dedicated to my career to scrutinize every detail. They had taken full advantage, building their secret life in plain sight, a celebrated campus romance known to everyone but me.

Eric left the room to get me some hot water, his phone, the burner one, still on the bedside table. It buzzed. His mother. Mrs. Williams. My stomach clenched. I knew she didn' t approve of me, a career woman living far away, but I always answered her calls out of respect for Eric.

I hesitated, then picked it up. "Hello, Mrs. Williams," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"Eric? Is that you?" Her voice was sharp, impatient. "Why are you answering that girl's phone? Did you finally dump that ATM machine, Claire? Are you going to bring Janessa home for dinner this week? I picked out a lovely diamond necklace for her, just like we discussed."

My blood ran cold. My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. "ATM machine Claire." "Janessa home for dinner." "Diamond necklace for her." It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't a misunderstanding. It was all true. Everything.

"Mrs. Williams," I managed, my voice trembling, "what exactly are you talking about?"

There was a stunned silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. "Claire?! What are you doing with Eric's phone? Give it back to him! He told me he was going to get rid of you today, finally propose to Janessa! What did you do to my son? You career women are all the same, only care about money, always keeping him from a proper family life!"

The phone clicked dead in my hand. She had hung up.

A bitter, humorless laugh bubbled up from my chest. His own mother. Conspiring against me, calling me an ATM machine, celebrating his betrayal, and picking out a diamond necklace for Janessa. The depth of their deception, the sheer scope of it, was breathtaking.

My eyes fell on the burner phone. The one he never let out of his sight. The one he claimed was just for "work calls." My fingers, still shaking, picked it up. It was locked. A four-digit code. Janessa's birthday. My mind flashed back to a conversation years ago, Janessa jokingly telling me her birthday was "the easiest code ever. My date of birth!"

I typed it in.

The screen lit up.

And there it was. Years of photos. Janessa and Eric, arm in arm, vacationing, celebrating holidays, kissing, laughing. And their dog. The white fluffy one, now grown, sitting between them, completing their perfect little family portrait. The wallpaper was a picture of Janessa, smiling radiantly, a small, silver promise ring glinting on her finger. The same ring Eric was wearing now.

My thumb, almost on its own, clicked open their chat history. The latest message was from Janessa. "Honey, did Claire suspect anything when you came back? Hope she's not making things difficult. Just hold on a little longer. I miss you so much. But don't worry, we're almost free. She's such a pain sometimes, always so high-strung, always complaining about her New York life."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "She's such a pain sometimes." "Always complaining about her New York life." My best friend. My boyfriend. The people I loved and trusted most in the world.

A cold, steely resolve settled over me. The tears had dried. The pain was still there, a dull ache, but it was now overshadowed by a burning, righteous fury. My mind was clear, sharper than it had ever been.

I typed a reply to Janessa. "Come to the hospital. Now." I hit send.

The game was over. And I was ready to play.