Chapter 3

I didn't sleep that night. I just sat on the floor of our empty living room, the moving boxes like silent accusers. My world had been dismantled in a matter of weeks, and I was the villain in everyone's story.

Ostracized by his family, condemned by my own, I felt utterly alone. I packed a suitcase, my movements mechanical. Clothes, toiletries, my laptop. I didn't know where I was going, only that I couldn't stay here.

As I zipped the bag, my phone buzzed on the floor. It was a message I had been getting for years, from a number I never replied to.

Caleb Lester. The "bad boy" from my high school, the one who was always in detention while I was studying for my valedictorian speech. He'd had a massive, embarrassing crush on me, which I had always dismissed. He' d left town after graduation and made a fortune in international business, but he never stopped trying. Every few months, like clockwork, a message would arrive.

"Gabby Fuller, when can I finally take you on a date?"

For years, I had ignored it. It was a joke, a relic from a past I had outgrown. But tonight, staring at the screen in the ruins of my life, it felt different. It felt like a lifeline.

My fingers moved before I could think. I typed a single word and hit send.

"Now."

His reply came back in less than a second.

"Booking my flight."

The next morning, my mother showed up. She didn't knock. She used the key I'd given her.

"Get dressed," she said, her face grim. "We're going to the hospital to make peace."

"I'm not going," I said.

"Yes, you are. You will not embarrass this family. You will go, you will apologize to Andrew, and you will fix this."

She practically dragged me out of the house and into her car. The ride was silent and tense. At the hospital, she marched me to the maternity ward.

And there it was. The scene that would be burned into my memory forever. Andrew was sitting in a chair, holding a tiny, swaddled baby. He was looking down at the infant with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration I had never seen him give me. Maria was in the bed, looking tired but radiant, watching him. Carol, Andrew' s mother, was cooing over the baby.

They were a perfect family. And I was the intruder.

Andrew looked up and saw me. His face hardened. He texted me from across the room. My phone buzzed. It was a picture of the newborn, a close-up of its tiny face. The message underneath read: "Isn't she beautiful? I'm a father. We're postponing the wedding by a month. Maria needs me right now."

My mother pushed me forward. "Go on. Be the bigger person."

She handed me a gift bag. "I brought a little something for the baby. A peace offering."

I walked toward the bed, my legs feeling like lead. Maria gave me a weak, triumphant smile.

"Gabby," she said softly. "Thank you for coming."

My mother bustled forward, pulling a soft, yellow onesie from the bag. "Here, let's put this on her. It's organic cotton."

As Carol helped slip the onesie onto the baby, Maria suddenly gasped.

"Oh my god! Look! Her skin!"

We all looked. The baby's chest was covered in an angry red rash.

Maria started to cry, her voice rising hysterically. "What was on that? Is it poison? Are you trying to hurt my baby?"

Andrew exploded. He shot up from his chair, his face contorted with rage. He pointed a shaking finger at me.

"You did this!" he screamed, his voice echoing in the quiet ward. "You came here to harm my child out of spite! Get out! Get out now!"