Chapter 2

Javier glanced at the caller ID, looked back at me, and let out a conflicted sigh before answering.

"Hello? Hey, slow down. Don't cry..."

In an instant, his voice melted into a honeyed warmth, casting a spell of calm over the chaos. "It's fine," he whispered. "Send me the address. I'll be there in a moment. Don't go anywhere by yourself. Stay put, and wait for me."

He hung up and grabbed his wool coat. He walked over, attempting to pull me into a hug, but my rigid posture acted like a brick wall.

"Nevaeh, something happened with Sophie," he said, his eyes swimming with genuine concern. "She's having a total meltdown. She's alone down by the waterfront, and I'm terrified she might do something stupid.

"I promise I'll be back before 1:00 AM. Since you're not feeling well, just get some rest, okay? Don't wait up."

He made it halfway to the front door before stopping. He turned around, walked into the kitchen, and heated a mug of milk in the microwave. He walked back and pressed the warm ceramic into my hands. "Drink this before bed. It'll help you sleep."

The mug was warm against my palms. A gesture that used to make me feel deeply loved now felt like it was burning through my flesh.

While maintaining dead eye contact with him, I opened my fingers.

The heavy mug shattered against the hardwood floor, sending shards of ceramic and hot milk splattering across our feet.

I grabbed the delicate cake from the coffee table and smashed it directly into the trash can.

"Get out."

The mask of the perfect boyfriend finally cracked. Shock, confusion, and a fleeting flash of barely concealed irritation crossed his handsome face.

But true to form, he didn't argue. He simply turned around and closed the front door behind him.

I listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway.

My knees gave out. I slid down the wall to the floor, surrounded by broken glass and spilled milk, as I trembled uncontrollably.

My phone lit up.

Sophie had sent another video. The angle was stealthy, the camera shaking slightly, but Javier's enraptured, blissed-out profile was unmistakable in the dim hotel lighting.

The caption read: [Thanks for letting me have him, darling.]

A second later, a photo came through.

Sophie was propped up against Javier's bare chest in a rumpled hotel bed. She was throwing a peace sign at the camera, her smile blindingly bright and triumphant.

Hanging right in the center of her collarbone was the delicate necklace I had bought her for her college graduation, the one she swore she would never take off.

Sophie: [Nevaeh, why don't you just let me have him? You already have everything in the world. He's all I have left.]

I stared at the glowing screen. My heart felt like it was being run through a meat grinder.

The first time I met Sophie, she was living in a rusted-out trailer in a rural mountain town that didn't even have paved roads.

Behind the ruins of the classroom door, she crouched in the shadows. Her eyes were gems, trembling with a sudden, overwhelming dread.

I took her to a local diner for her very first real cheeseburger. She polished off every last crumb, literally licking the plate clean.

Then, she looked at me with those earnest eyes and whispered, "Nevaeh, how much did this cost? I need to write it down so I can pay you back someday."

She told me she would never take charity without earning it.

I poured money and time into her, desperately trying to save her, because looking at her felt like looking at the helpless, desperate version of my younger self who had always prayed for a savior.

And now, the very hand I had reached down into the abyss to pull her up was the same hand she used to shove me into hell.

I refreshed my Instagram feed. Sophie had just posted a new photo on her private story: a close-up of a man's hands. His fingers were woven through hers.

The caption read: [Thank you for always taking care of me.]

The man's hand had long fingers. On his left ring finger sat the custom platinum engagement band Javier and I had designed together.

I remembered the day he put it on. He said, "As long as I wear this, I belong to you."

It was the dead of winter. Despite the underfloor heating running at full blast, I was trembling with a chill that no fire could warm.

My thumbs shook as I typed a reply. Every word felt like it was written in my own lifeblood.

[Sophie, did you know that you tested positive for HIV?]

The typing bubble on her end appeared, vanished, and appeared again. A long silence followed.

Sophie: [You know?]

Sophie: [You're not going to tell him, right? You love him so much. How could you bear to watch him break down? How could you tell him he's going to die?]

Sophie: [Besides, I didn't force him. I told him I was cold, and he held me. I told him I wanted him, and he gave it to me.]

Sophie: [Nevaeh, a true gentleman never says no.]

I read the text thread over and over. A hysterical laugh ripped out of my throat, followed by a torrent of hot tears.

Yeah. I did love Javier.

I loved him so much that even when I found out I was just a physical placeholder for his dead ex-girlfriend, I swallowed the pain and stayed.

I loved him so much that I brainwashed myself into excusing his constant need to play the white knight for other women.

I loved him so deeply that even now, as my heart was shattered from the betrayal, my immediate thought was for him. I found myself wondering if he was okay.

God, I made myself sick.

I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. Mechanically, I downloaded every single video, photo, and text thread, backing them all up to a secure cloud drive.

I murmured, "Javier Snider, your karma is coming. And I'm going to hand-deliver it."