Chapter 3

I watched his taillights disappear down the long, private road. The cold evening air bit at my skin.

Alone. I was utterly alone.

My mind drifted back to a memory, the one good thing I thought I had of him. A state fair, years ago. I was a lonely, awkward kid, and a boy had found me crying behind a tent. He' d given me a guitar pick and told me my sadness would make beautiful music one day. For years, I believed that kind boy was Liam. It was the seed of my love for him, a love built on a mistake.

A wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over, my stomach cramping violently. The illness was a constant, physical reminder of my reality. I stumbled back inside the cold, empty house. There was no one to call, no one to help. My influential uncle and his family saw me as a burden. My father was long gone. It was just me.

I made my way to the kitchen and drank a glass of water, my hand shaking so badly that the glass rattled against my teeth.

The doorbell rang, startling me. I wasn't expecting anyone.

I opened the door to find my cousin, Savannah Jensen, standing on the porch. She was beautiful, poised, the golden child of the family. She smiled, a sweet, concerned expression on her face. It was all an act.

"Hailey, honey," she said, stepping inside without an invitation. "I was so worried. Liam said you were acting strangely."

She walked around the living room, her eyes taking in the expensive, minimalist decor. She ran a manicured finger along a marble countertop.

"He loves me so much, you know," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "He feels so guilty for being trapped with you."

"What do you want, Savannah?" I asked, my voice flat.

She turned to face me, her smile turning sharp. "I just wanted to see how you were holding up. It must be so lonely in this big house, all by yourself."

She stepped closer, her perfume cloying. "You know, you can tell Liam the truth about that night three years ago. You can tell him I was the one who set it all up."

I stared at her, my blood running cold.

"You can tell him," she whispered, her eyes glittering with malice, "that I drugged his drink and put you in his bed. But he'll never believe you. He'll always choose me."