Chapter 2

I took a sip of water to quiet my cough, about to say something, but suddenly stopped.

Trailing behind Braxton was Lacey—a sweet, delicate girl who looked a lot like me.

The second Lacey opened her mouth, I instantly recognized her as that same girl on the phone the other day.

Lacey tugged at Braxton's sleeve, whining, "Braxton, why does Cambria keep staring at me? Is she mad at me or something?"

Braxton just pulled her indoors. "She's just the lapdog—don't mind her."

He plopped down on the couch and slid the fruit I'd just washed over to Lacey. "Go ahead, help yourself."

He picked up a strawberry and fed it to her. "Try it. Cambria's parents have spent their lives serving the Comptons—the only thing they passed down was how to pick vegetables and fruit."

I clenched my fists, but when I met Braxton's taunting gaze, I kept my mouth shut.

I bit down on my lip, determined to act like I hadn't heard a word.

Lacey shot me a teasing smile. "Oh really? Cambria, my parents are both university professors. Stuff like that? Never been on my syllabus."

My chest felt tight and heavy—I couldn't take it anymore. "Braxton, take her and get the hell out!"

Lacey giggled sweetly. "Cambria, Braxton doesn't even want you anymore. Who are you to tell me to leave? Maybe you're the one who should be shown the door."

I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't anymore. I marched right up to Braxton and slapped him so hard my own palm ached.

I pointed straight at Lacey. "This house belongs to both of us, so who do you think you are just strolling in like you own the place? Don't test me—I'll blast your name all over the internet and dig up exactly which university your oh-so-respectable parents work at."

Lacey went pale the moment she heard that. She snapped her head toward Braxton, looking for help.

Braxton just shot her a crooked smile, didn't say a word, and didn't bother defending her.

Lacey's face flushed with embarrassment. She stomped her foot and bolted out of there.

Braxton shot me a sideways glance and scoffed, "Good dogs know better than to bite their owners."

I snapped back at Braxton with a sarcastic grin, "Too bad you aren't more like Xander. He's got actual class."

Braxton's smile vanished.

He stormed over and threw me onto the couch. "What, am I just your stand-in again?"

He leaned in, pressing me down so I could barely move.

No matter how hard I tried to shove him off—even when I slapped him—he didn't react at all, like he'd completely lost his mind.

My clothes got ripped apart, and tears wouldn't stop coming. "Braxton, you fucking bastard! When have I ever treated you as a stand-in?"

But Braxton wasn't having any of it.

He took whatever he wanted, leaving me battered and bruised—like I was nothing more than someone to be used and tossed aside.

When he finally got up, I just lay there on the couch, unmoving, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

A random thought flashed through my mind: if I died right now, would my soul really be able to escape?

Or would I be trapped in this house forever, stuck with Braxton, both of us sick of the sight of each other?

Braxton got dressed, his face icy, and walked out without a word.

I lay there alone, from dusk till dawn, a chill settling deep into my bones that just wouldn't leave.

In the dead quiet, I could hear my own heartbeat—so weak and sluggish, almost afraid it might just give out.

Honestly, I wished it would just quit, taking all the hurt and humiliation away with it.

But then I remembered my mom—no one there to help her. So I grabbed for the pills and forced them down.

As I closed my eyes, waiting for the meds to kick in, I saw Xander.

He looked at me with pity. "Cambria, if you can't take it anymore, why not come with me?"

My eyes stung, and I wanted so badly to just nod.

But I couldn't.

I forced myself to shake my head, even though my whole body screamed for escape. "No, Xander. Not yet."

I couldn't leave. My mom still needed me.

I waited half an hour for the pills to kick in, until a wave of dopamine brought me a hint of relief—just enough to feel almost human again.

Just as I was pulling myself upright, my phone buzzed. It was Braxton. "Divorce, then?" he said, voice flat.

Keeping my expression ice-cold, I got dressed. "No."

Braxton let out a low, careless laugh, like everything that happened just now meant nothing. "I'm really falling for Lacey, Cambria. Why don't you just move out of the way?"

I suddenly felt icy all over and pulled another layer tight around me, trying to hold myself together.

Through clenched teeth, I shot back, "Forget it. I'm not giving in. And Braxton, you're fucking trash."

Braxton sneered, giving me a cold grin. "Takes one to know one."

I hung up the phone and closed my eyes, remembering the days when Braxton was always chasing after me.

Back then, I never gave in—every single day, I did my best to avoid him, ducking out of sight whenever I could.

But after Xander was gone for good in Fohhulland, I was just like a ghost drifting through life—so spaced out that once I nearly got run over crossing the street.

Braxton rushed in, literally diving between me and the car, taking the hit himself and winding up with a broken leg.

That day, he was sprawled in a pool of blood, still fussing with his hair, and looked up at me with this gentle little smile. "As long as you're okay, that's all that matters."

I held him close, his blood soaking through me, and listened as he whispered, barely clinging to life, "Cambria, if I make it, would you be with me? I'm truly in love with you."

Staring at Braxton's leg, blood pouring everywhere, I knew I couldn't turn him down, not after this.