Chapter 3

A week later, I was discharged from the hospital. The cut on my arm was healing, leaving a thin, red line that I knew would become a permanent scar. A reminder.

As my family helped me into the car, a sleek black Porsche pulled up behind us. Jaxon got out, carrying a large bouquet of roses. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but he put on his familiar, charming smile when he saw me.

"Elfrieda! I came as soon as I heard you were being discharged," he said, rushing over. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. Janice... she was really shaken up. I had to make sure she was okay. She's very fragile."

My brother, Jameel, stepped between us. "You've got a lot of nerve showing your face here."

Jaxon's smile faltered. "What are you talking about? I was worried sick." He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "El, I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you."

I just stared at him, my expression blank. I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness. Just a vast, cold emptiness. "It's fine, Jaxon."

My calm acceptance seemed to reassure him. He pushed past Jameel and took my good hand. "I knew you'd understand. You're always so reasonable."

He led me to his car, away from my family's disapproving glares. "Get in. I'm taking you home. We need to start planning the wedding. I was thinking a destination wedding. Italy, maybe?"

He was already on to the next task.

He opened the passenger door for me. I slid into the leather seat, the engagement ring on my finger feeling like a block of ice. I looked at it, glinting in the sunlight. A beautiful lie.

"This is for you," he said, handing me the roses. They were beautiful, but I knew they were just another checked box on his list. I took them and placed them on my lap.

As he started the car, his phone rang. The screen on the dashboard lit up with the caller ID: 'Janice.'

He glanced at it, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he answered, his voice instantly shifting to one of deep concern.

"Janice? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I could hear her frantic, tearful voice through the car's speakers. "Jaxon! I fell! I was getting out of the shower and I slipped. My ankle... I think it's broken! It hurts so much!"

"Stay right there," Jaxon said, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. "Don't move. I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten minutes."

He hung up and turned to me, his face a mask of harried apology. "El, I'm so sorry. I have to go. It's an emergency."

"I understand," I said, my voice flat.

He truly believed I did. He leaned over and gave me a quick, distracted kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you later. We'll talk about the wedding then."

He got out of the car, sprinted to the driver's side, and got back in, his tires screeching as he pulled away from the curb and sped down the street. He left me sitting in my hospital discharge clothes in the passenger seat of his expensive car, holding a bouquet of meaningless flowers.

But this time, I was ready.

I got out of his car, hailed a taxi, and said, "Follow that Porsche."

The taxi driver gave me a strange look but did as I asked. We followed Jaxon across town to a luxury apartment building I had never seen before. I watched him park and run inside without a second glance back.

I paid the driver and got out, my heart a steady, cold drum in my chest. I walked into the lobby and saw Jaxon's name on the directory next to apartment 15B. Their secret home.

I took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. The door to 15B was slightly ajar. I could hear their voices inside. I pushed it open just enough to see into the living room.

Janice was sitting on the couch, her foot propped up on a pillow. There wasn't a scratch on her. She was wearing a silk robe, sipping a glass of wine.

Jaxon was kneeling in front of her, gently examining her perfectly fine ankle. "Does it hurt here?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Janice let out a small, theatrical whimper. "A little. Oh, Jaxon, I was so scared. What if I had really hurt myself and you weren't here? What if you were with her?"

"I'm here now," he said, stroking her hair. "I will always come for you. You know that."

A tiny, cruel smile played on Janice's lips. "But you have to marry her. You have to be with her. It must be so hard for you, pretending to love someone so plain and boring."

I held my breath, waiting for him to defend me. A small, stupid part of me still hoped he would.

He just sighed. "It's a duty, Janice. That's all. It's for Denzel. I owe him this. Do you think I feel anything when I kiss her? When I hold her? It's like holding a block of wood. All I think about is you."

The last flicker of hope inside me died. A block of wood. That's all I was to him. A task. An obligation. An object.

"I know," Janice cooed, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm the one you love. I'm your wife. She's just... a placeholder." She looked up, her eyes scanning the room, and for a second, I thought she saw me. Her gaze seemed to land directly on the crack in the door.

A triumphant, malicious glint appeared in her eyes. She knew I was there. This was all a performance for my benefit.

She leaned down and kissed Jaxon, a long, passionate kiss. "I just hate sharing you," she whispered against his lips.

I didn't need to see any more. I backed away from the door, my movements silent and deliberate. I walked down the hallway, into the elevator, and out of the building. The world outside seemed brighter, sharper. The pain was still there, but it was overshadowed by a chilling clarity.

I walked until I found a park bench and sat down. I pulled out my phone. A friend request was waiting for me.

From Janice Tate.

She wanted to continue the game. She wanted to rub my face in her victory.

I looked at the request for a long moment. Then, with a steady hand, I pressed 'Accept.'

Let the games begin.