Chapter 1

Andrew Barton, my childhood sweetheart, coaxed me into taking nude photos.

He promised he'd keep them for himself.

I was a little scared, but deep down, I was relieved and happy that I finally had Andrew all to myself.

But then, I ended up fighting with Freya Hamilton, the poor girl, for the top spot.

Unconcerned, Andrew said, "Harper, let her have it.

"You don't want your nude photos getting out, do you?"

I froze, nodding like a fool.

A week later, Freya got what she wanted and took first place.

Andrew deleted all the photos.

I felt a weight lift off my chest as I boarded the plane to leave the country.

All those years, I had wasted my time on a guy who wasn't worth it.

*****

Andrew spoke with a careless tone, like it meant nothing to him.

His words were brief, but they packed a punch.

He said, "You agree, and I will delete all the photos."

It was the height of summer, the heat almost unbearable.

But I felt like I'd been plunged into freezing water.

It was also like being hit over the head.

I opened my mouth, my voice trembling. "You promised me that..."

Andrew cut me off. "Yeah, I promised I'd only look at them myself."

He stared at me, his voice deep and steady. "I won't break my promise, as long as you let Freya take first place."

I stubbornly tried to argue, but my words came out in broken pieces. "The singing competition is supposed to be about talent.

"I, uh, I'm not giving it up."

Andrew looked like he'd seen this coming.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me close.

Then he pulled out his phone.

He guided my hand to unlock the hidden album.

Explicit photos flashed before my eyes.

Andrew let out a low chuckle. "Harper, your body's perfect."

His lips brushed against my ear. "This shot's my favorite. You're all flushed, mouth open, staring right at the camera.

"It looks like you've been having a wild time in bed."

My fingers trembled, my voice breaking with tears. "Please, don't look."

Andrew paused and then turned off the screen.

His thumb, warm and gentle, brushed away the tears at the corner of my eyes. "Hey, don't be scared. Will you say yes?"

My fingers twisted together unconsciously, my mind blank. I said, "Okay."

Andrew's eyes curved with a satisfied smile as he stood up.

He gently smoothed out my messy hair, his voice soft and coaxing. "There's a class get-together tonight. I won't be heading home with you.

"I'll have the driver take you home."

The air conditioning in the music room was cranked up to the max.

I hugged my coat tight, curling up in the chair.

It was so cold that it seeped into my bones.

I covered my mouth, muffling my sobs as best I could.

Andrew was the one person I trusted most in the world.

When I was seven, my parents brought me from the countryside to the city.

My home suddenly changed from a cramped little house to a gleaming, luxurious villa.

But no matter what, I couldn't fit in.

I was tanned, skinny, and small.

I was always the one getting picked on.

All I could do was hide and cry.

I thought if I kept quiet and didn't fight back, they'd leave me alone.

That day, a group of boys tried to yank my pants down.

I burst into tears, grabbed a dried branch, and stammered, "D-don't come any closer."

But they didn't stop. In fact, they got bolder.

That was when Andrew showed up.

He snatched up a brick and scared them off with a few wild swings.

Then he held out his hand to me. "Come on, little stutterer, I'll walk you home."

But my legs were so weak that I couldn't stand.

Andrew frowned, and his face darkened.

Still, he squatted down and said, "Hop on."

I hesitated for a moment and then got onto his back.

He carried me, his steps steady and unhurried.

After that, I always followed Andrew around, shy and hesitant.

For eleven years, I never left his side.

It wasn't until after the freshman ROTC program ended.

I finally gathered up the courage to tell him how I felt.

Maybe Andrew's heart softened.

He smiled at me, giving a classy nod.

So when Andrew brought up taking photos, I was nervous but went along with it.

I swallowed my fear and whispered, "Will anyone else see them?"

Andrew held up the camera, his voice gentle and reassuring. "No, they're for me only, I promise."

I hesitated for a moment and took off my nightgown.

I struck pose after pose for him.

But now, all that passion we shared felt like a knife cutting me deep.

I thought Andrew would never hurt me.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I started bawling.

I didn't know how long I cried, but there were no more tears left.

Then, Andrew sent me a message.

He was like always, fussing over me. [You cried a lot today. Your throat's probably sore now.

[Remember to drink some honey water when you get home.]

I gripped my phone tightly, walking home in a daze.

On the way, I nearly walked into the path of a huge truck.

My whole body was numb, my hands trembling as I entered the code to my room.

The living room was shrouded in darkness.

I didn't bother turning on the lights. I sat on the couch with my knees pulled up to my chest.

The alarm clock kept ticking, marking time as it circled endlessly.

Then, the notification sound from WhatsApp chimed.

I opened it numbly.

My best friend, Lilian Mullen, sounded dead serious. [Harper, be honest with me.

[Did Andrew ever, you know, take nude photos of you?]

A suffocating wave of shame washed over me.

I frantically pressed the screen off, my heart racing.

I did promise him.

The screen lit up again.

It was a video from Lilian.

My hands shook as I tapped to open it.

In a dimly lit private room, Andrew had a cigarette between his fingers, his voice a lazy drawl. "Relax, you'll win the singing contest. First place, guaranteed."