Chapter 8

Joy pushed the front door of the penthouse open. She was exhausted. Her encounter with Angel at the clinic had drained every ounce of energy from her body. Her head was pounding, and a dull, throbbing heat radiated from her lower stomach, but she forced herself to push the pain aside.

She just wanted to take a hot shower and wash the smell of the clinic off her skin.

She walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom to grab her clothes.

She stopped in the doorway.

Hillary was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed.

She was wearing a silk robe. Not her own robe. It was Joy's. The pale pink silk robe Joy had bought for her honeymoon-a honeymoon that never happened.

Angel was leaning against the headboard, holding a tablet. He looked up when Joy walked in. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look guilty.

Hillary smiled. It was a vicious, triumphant smile. She shifted her weight, deliberately letting the robe slip off one shoulder.

"Knock next time," Hillary said smoothly. "This is my room now."

A hot, blinding rage ignited in Joy's chest. It burned away the exhaustion. It burned away the fear.

This wasn't just an insult. It was a violation.

Joy didn't yell. She didn't cry. Her face went completely blank.

She walked into the room. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor. She ignored Hillary entirely and walked straight to her vanity table in the corner.

"You should be careful wearing other people's clothes," Joy said casually, opening a drawer. "You never know what kind of diseases you might catch."

Hillary's face flushed red. She jumped up from the bed. "Excuse me? You little-"

"Enough," Angel snapped. He set his tablet down. He looked at Joy with cold disdain. "Get your things and go to the guest room, Joy. Stop causing a scene."

Joy found what she was looking for.

She pulled a small, square box out of the drawer.

She turned around and leaned against the vanity. She held the box up, making sure the label caught the light.

It was a box of Plan B. Morning-after pills.

Hillary's eyes locked onto the box. The color drained from her face.

Joy looked at Angel. She smiled. It was a cold, empty smile.

"I haven't taken these yet," Joy said loudly. She tapped the box against her fingernail. "I was just about to take care of the... aftermath from the other night. well. It would be a shame if I ended up carrying the Wilcox heir, wouldn't it?"

The room went dead silent.

Hillary stopped breathing. She stared at the box, then slowly turned her head to look at Angel. Her eyes were wide with horror.

"Angel?" Hillary's voice cracked. "What is she talking about? You said you never touched her."

Angel's face turned the color of ash. The veins in his neck bulged. He glared at Joy with a hatred so pure it made the air in the room crackle.

"It was an accident," Angel said through gritted teeth, looking at Hillary. "I was drugged."

"An accident?!" Hillary shrieked.

She lost her mind. She grabbed the heavy crystal lamp off the nightstand and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall, raining glass down onto the carpet.

"You slept with her!" Hillary screamed, her face contorted in rage. "You swore to me she meant nothing!"

Angel scrambled off the bed, reaching for her. "Hillary, listen to me-"

"Don't touch me!" Hillary slapped his hand away. She ripped Joy's silk robe off and threw it on the floor. She grabbed her own clothes and started dressing frantically. "You disgust me! Both of you disgust me!"

She grabbed her purse and stormed out of the bedroom. The front door of the penthouse slammed shut a few seconds later. The sound shook the walls.

Joy stood by the vanity, still holding the box of pills.

Angel slowly turned his head to look at her.

His eyes were completely black. His chest heaved. He looked like a man who was about to commit murder.