Chapter 2

The rough fibers of the hotel carpet scraped against Abigayle's palms as she pushed herself up.

Her knees shook, but she locked them into place.

She dragged her feet across the room, stopping in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror.

The woman staring back at her looked like a ghost.

Her dark hair was a tangled mess, her lips were swollen, and the oversized men's shirt swallowed her frame, exposing the violent, purple bruises on her neck.

She turned away from the reflection and walked straight into the marble bathroom.

She turned the chrome faucet all the way to the cold side.

Cupping her hands, she splashed the freezing water directly onto her face, letting the icy shock numb the throbbing pain in her temples.

She grabbed a hand towel, dried her face roughly, and marched back into the bedroom to find her clothes.

She spotted her custom silk evening gown crumpled near the armchair.

When she picked it up, the fabric fell apart in her hands. The zipper was completely ripped from the seam, the delicate silk shredded beyond repair.

The electronic lock on the door beeped again.

Abigayle spun around, clutching the ruined dress to her chest.

Jeffery stepped back into the room, alone this time. The cameras were gone. The righteous anger was gone.

He closed the door quietly, leaning against the wood with a smug, negotiating posture.

"If you agree to walk away with nothing," Jeffery said, dropping his voice to a low, business-like murmur. "I can make sure the worst of those photos don't make the front page."

Abigayle stared at his perfectly styled hair and his expensive shoes.

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place inside her brain.

A cold, bitter laugh ripped from her throat.

She dropped the shredded dress and walked over to the velvet sofa.

She snatched her limited-edition clutch from the cushions, snapped it open, and pulled out her phone.

Her thumb quickly swiped the screen, hitting the bright red record button on her voice memo app.

She placed the phone face-up on the glass coffee table.

"How much did you pay for that fake lab report on the black market, Jeffery?" she asked, her voice steady and lethal.

Jeffery's posture stiffened.

His eyes darted to the recording phone, his fingers immediately reaching up to adjust his cuffs.

"You're out of your mind," he snapped, his voice rising defensively. "The evidence is right there. You're a whore."

Abigayle took a step toward him, closing the distance.

"The report says I'm eight weeks pregnant," she said, enunciating every syllable. "Eight weeks ago, I was in Paris for Fashion Week. I was surrounded by fifty people every day, and you were in New York."

Jeffery's jaw clenched. A muscle ticked in his cheek as the glaring hole in his plan was exposed.

He lunged forward, his hand swiping toward the glass table to grab the phone.

Abigayle was faster.

She snatched the device, taking three quick steps backward to keep it out of his reach.

"Your IQ is as pathetic as your performance in bed," she sneered, holding the phone tightly against her chest. "You couldn't even forge a document right."

Seeing that physical force wouldn't work, Jeffery's face morphed into a mask of victimhood.

He let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh.

"Abby, be reasonable," he pleaded, his tone shifting to a pathetic whine. "I'm a victim here too. My father... the family forced my hand. I had to find a way out."

Hearing him blame his family extinguished the very last ember of affection she had ever held for him.

He wasn't just a traitor; he was a coward.

Abigayle raised her left hand.

The three-carat diamond engagement ring caught the dull morning light streaming through the window, flashing brilliantly.

It was the symbol of the Sullivan family's promise. Now, it just looked like a shackle.

She grabbed the diamond with her right hand and yanked it off.

The metal scraped harshly against her knuckle, leaving a bright red friction burn on her skin.

She walked right up to Jeffery.

Before he could react, she slammed the heavy platinum ring directly into the center of his chest.

The diamond hit his breastbone with a dull thud, bounced off his expensive suit, and hit the carpet, rolling away into a dark corner.

"You didn't dump me," Abigayle stated, her chin tilted up, her eyes burning with absolute disgust. "I, Abigayle Pena, am dumping you. You spineless coward."

Jeffery stood frozen for two seconds.

Then, his face twisted into an ugly, furious snarl.

"You shameless bitch!" he roared, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

The sound of clicking heels echoed from the hallway.

The door pushed open, and Kim poked her head in, her eyes darting between them.

"Jeffery, honey? Is everything handled?" Kim asked, her voice dripping with fake concern.

Abigayle turned her head slowly, her gaze locking onto Kim like a sniper finding a target.

"A piece of advice, Kim," Abigayle said, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. "When you pick up someone else's trash, make sure you don't catch an infection."

Kim's face drained of color. The sweet, innocent mask cracked, revealing the ugly jealousy underneath.

Desperate to regain his pride, Jeffery walked over and wrapped his arm tightly around Kim's waist.

"We love each other," Jeffery declared, lifting his chin. "Something you wouldn't understand."

Abigayle looked at the two of them standing there.

The air in the room suddenly felt thick, suffocating, and utterly toxic.

She turned around, grabbed a thick, heavy white towel from the bathroom door, and wrapped it tightly over the men's shirt.

She pulled the terrycloth fabric securely around her waist, covering every inch of her exposed skin.

She walked straight toward the door, her spine perfectly straight, her shoulders pulled back.

She didn't step aside. She forced Jeffery and Kim to step back to let her pass.

As her bare feet crossed the threshold into the hallway, Abigayle stopped.

She didn't turn around.

"Every ounce of humiliation you gave me today," she said to the wall in front of her. "I will return to you tenfold."

She stepped out into the corridor, leaving the two of them standing in the wreckage, and walked toward the storm waiting outside.