Chapter 1

When I was sick, Braxton Compton brought a young girl home.

The girl was delicate, clinging to Braxton's waist as she asked, "Braxton, why is Cambria glaring at me? Does she not like me?"

Braxton glanced at me. "Don't mind her. She's just my lapdog."

But when I died, they told Braxton, "It's just a lapdog gone—you can always find another."

But Braxton's eyes went red, and he snapped, "Whoever dares say that about her—I'll take their life!"

Braxton, always the heartbreaker, broke down sobbing like a lost child. "She wasn't a lapdog. She was my wife."

When I stepped out of the hospital, the sun was blazing. I bought a lollipop and idly stuck it in my mouth, debating whether I should give Braxton a heads up—my depression was kicking in hard again.

It had gotten so bad that it was even messing with my body. The doctor said if I didn't stay in the hospital, I was pretty much gambling with my life.

We were still married. Guess I should at least let him know.

I called up Braxton, and the background was wild—the guy was totally at some dinner party. Someone shouted, "Lacey, why don't you and Braxton share a couple's toast?"

I paused, catching Lacey's sweet, playful voice. "Oh, you guys, stop messing with me!"

Then Braxton jumped in. "Don't freak her out. She's just a kid—you'll make her cry."

I froze, my feet rooted to the spot.

Someone started teasing, "Braxton, you're so protective of Lacey. Why'd you just take her drink away?"

Braxton, unbothered, said, "She's allergic to alcohol. I'll take her drink."

My grip loosened, and the lollipop slipped to the floor, shattering into pieces.

After a while, Braxton finally seemed to remember he was on the call, his tone impatient. "What is it?"

I looked down at the broken lollipop scattered on the ground, bit back what I really wanted to say and gave a small smile. "It's nothing. Just wanted to know if you'd be coming home for dinner."

Braxton let out a sarcastic laugh. "I haven't had dinner at home in two years, and now you remember to ask?"

Lacey scooted closer, her tone playful and honeyed. "Braxton, who's that?"

Braxton gave an indifferent laugh. "Just a dog I keep around to guard the place."

My chest seized so fiercely I nearly forgot how to breathe. My nails dug deep into my skin, nearly drawing blood.

But I kept completely silent.

Braxton sounded completely unfazed. "Cambria, if this is too much for you, you know you can just file for divorce."

I clenched my fist so tight the skin split, then let out a bitter sigh. "I can handle it. Seriously, don't worry."

"Mr. Compton, I'm not going to let things go the way you want," I added.

Braxton paused, then his laugh dripped with sarcasm. You really get a kick out of playing my loyal dog, huh?"

I bit my lip so hard that it almost hurt, swallowing my tears and turning them into a fragile smile. "Getting to be your dog is such an honor, Mr. Compton."

Braxton went silent for a couple of seconds, then abruptly slammed down the call.

I crouched by the side of the road, my vision clouding over and every breath harder to draw. My hands trembled as I dug through my bag for my pillbox, frantically swallowing a tablet.

Before I knew it, tears were dripping into my palm. I swallowed them down with the medicine, letting the ache seep deeper inside.

Lacey's soft, teasing giggle still lingered in my ears.

Suddenly, I remembered that I used to be the one Braxton doted on like that.

He'd even shattered his leg to save me, drenched in blood, sitting there all battered but smiling up at me, calling out to me so sweetly, "Cambria."

It had only been two years.

I let out a sigh, grabbed some fruit, and brought it over to my mom.

When I got there, she was watering the flowers, her face clouded with gloom.

She'd spent her whole life as a housekeeper for the Compton family, and even now, with her mind fading, she was still stuck worrying about them.

She asked me about the Comptons, "Is Braxton still good to you?"

I just smiled and nodded. "He's busy a lot, but when he's got free time, he sticks to me like glue."

Then she asked about Xander. "Is Xander home yet?"

My hand stiffened, and the strawberries slipped from my grasp, scattering all over the floor.

I crouched down to pick them up, head bowed. "No, he's still out in Fohhulland, volunteering as a doctor with Doctors Without Borders."

My mom sighed, her voice soft and worried. "Why hasn't Xander come back home yet?"

I scooped up the strawberries and rushed to the kitchen to wash them, keeping quiet.

My mom kept asking, her voice anxious, "Why isn't Xander coming back home?"

I just acted like I didn't hear her and rushed to turn on the faucet, but in my hurry, I switched it to hot and instantly scalded my finger.

The pain was so intense that I couldn't even get a sound out, and uncontrollable tears spilled down my cheeks.

After that, my mom finally stopped asking. I stayed until evening, then dragged myself home, completely worn out.

I was sitting on the couch, taking my meds, when Braxton walked in.

I hurriedly swallowed a handful of pills all at once, and they went down my throat in a rush, making me choke and cough, tears streaming down my face.

Braxton spotted the tears streaming down my face and, with a mocking smirk, called out to everyone behind him, "Hey, check out Cambria—look at that performance! She could win an award with those fake tears."