Chapter 3

The plan worked perfectly.

The attacker, his eyes wild with rage and desperation, saw his chance. He let go of Kenzie and lunged for Ellery.

It happened so fast. One moment she was in Dawson' s arms, the next, a rough hand was clamped over her mouth, and a muscular arm was wrapped around her neck, dragging her backward.

Her back hit the cold, unforgiving concrete of the ledge. For a heart-stopping second, she teetered on the brink, the city lights a dizzying blur below.

Then, there was nothing.

The sensation of falling was absolute. Wind rushed past her ears, a deafening roar that swallowed all other sound. Her stomach lurched, and her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, wild drumbeat.

She closed her eyes.

In that final, terrifying moment, one thought, clear and cold, cut through the panic.

He would kill me for her.

He had seen the man lunge for her, and he had let it happen. He had used her as a human shield, a disposable pawn to ensure the safety of his precious, idealized Kenzie. The twelve years of her life, the endless days and nights of her service, meant nothing.

She was an acceptable loss.

The next thing she knew was the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital.

A soft, rhythmic beeping filled the air. She blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lights.

A nurse was checking her IV drip. The woman smiled gently.

"Welcome back. You' re a very lucky young woman."

"What... happened?" Ellery' s voice was a hoarse whisper.

"You fell from a great height," the nurse said, her tone matter-of-fact. "But you landed on a safety net the hotel had installed for window washers. A few broken ribs, a concussion, but you' ll live. The man who fell with you wasn' t so lucky. He missed the net."

Ellery closed her eyes, the nurse' s words echoing in her mind. He missed the net.

Dawson had known about the net.

The thought was chilling. He hadn' t just let her be attacked; he had calculated the odds. He had known there was a chance she would survive, while ensuring the threat to Kenzie was permanently eliminated. It wasn't a panicked, split-second decision. It was a cold, ruthless calculation.

The door to her room opened, and he walked in. He looked tired, his expensive suit rumpled. He came to her bedside, his expression a mixture of concern and annoyance.

He reached out to touch her cheek.

She turned her head away.

His hand froze in mid-air. He let out a long, weary sigh and grabbed her hand instead, his grip tight.

"Are you blaming me?" he asked, his voice soft.

She didn' t answer.

"Come on, El," he wheedled, his tone turning childish, the one he always used when he wanted something. "Don' t be like this. I was scared. Kenzie was in danger."

Ellery slowly pulled her hand from his grasp.

"You knew about the net," she said, her voice flat.

He stilled, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Is that what this is about? You' re mad I saved you? What have you been to me all these years if not my protector?"

The sheer audacity of his words, the way he twisted his selfish act into some kind of noble sacrifice on her part, was staggering.

I was your paid employee, she thought.

"You should go," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Kenzie must be terrified. She' ll need you."

He seemed to consider this, then nodded, relieved to have an excuse to leave.

"You' re right. She' s a mess. I' ll come back when I have time."

He turned and walked out of the room.

He never came back.

In the days that followed, Ellery would occasionally see him from her window, walking in the hospital gardens with Kenzie. He was a different person with her. Gentle, attentive, catering to her every whim. He would feed her ice cream, wrap his jacket around her shoulders when she shivered, and they would kiss, long and slow, oblivious to the world around them.

Ellery watched them, and felt nothing. No jealousy, no heartbreak. Only a profound, bottomless sense of relief.

The day she was discharged, she ran into them in the lobby. Kenzie, her face a mask of sweet concern, rushed to her side and linked her arm through Ellery' s.

"Ellery! You' re all better! Dawson, we should give her a ride home, shouldn' t we?"

The smile on Kenzie' s face was the same saccharine, disingenuous smile Ellery had come to expect, a stark contrast to the vicious text message she had sent.

In the car, Kenzie chattered endlessly, her hand resting possessively on Dawson' s thigh. Ellery sat silently in the back, a ghost in their new, perfect world.

Suddenly, Kenzie turned, her expression turning serious.

"Dawson," she asked, her voice a carefully calibrated mix of innocence and anxiety. "Do you... have anyone else? Another girlfriend?"

The air in the car went still. Dawson' s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He was a terrible liar.

Before he could stammer out a denial, Ellery leaned forward, a small, knowing smile on her lips.

"Of course he does."

Kenzie' s head whipped around, her eyes wide. Dawson shot Ellery a panicked look in the rearview mirror.

"Who?" Kenzie demanded, her voice sharp.

Ellery' s smile widened. She looked directly at Kenzie.

"You."

She proceeded to weave a beautiful, elaborate lie. She told Kenzie how, for twelve years, Dawson had never once stopped loving her. How he would talk about her for hours, how every woman he ever met was just a pale imitation of her. She described his pining, his devotion, his unwavering belief that they were destined to be together.

By the time she finished, Kenzie was in tears, her face buried in Dawson' s shoulder, completely and utterly won over.

Dawson dropped Kenzie off first. When they were alone, he pulled the car over, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger.

He grabbed her wrist. "What was that? What game are you playing?"

"Wasn' t that what you wanted?" Ellery asked, her voice calm. "A perfect love story? I was just helping you sell it."

He leaned in, his face inches from hers, his eyes searching her for any sign of jealousy, of pain.

"You' re not even a little bit sad," he said, his voice a low, frustrated growl. "Why aren' t you sad?"

Because I was never happy, she thought, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. Because I don' t love you. I never have.

But she didn' t say it. There was no point. He wouldn' t understand.