Chapter 3

"Yeah, it is," I said, my voice dripping with nonchalance.

I slowly straightened up, making a show of smoothing the collar of Quentin's obnoxiously loud shirt, my fingers deliberately brushing his skin.

"What were you expecting, Mr. Lancaster? Should I stay home and knit you a sweater, waiting for you to come crawling back?"

My tone was light, airy, and laced with pure mockery.

Quentin, ever the showman, tightened his arm around my shoulder and shot Henry a look of defiant challenge.

"You're too late, Henry. Jade's with me now."

Henry's gaze was so sharp that it felt like he was physically trying to sever Quentin's arm from his body.

He completely ignored Quentin, fixing his eyes on me as he walked over. The force of his presence was a physical thing, a crushing pressure that made the air thick and hard to breathe.

"Come back with me."

There he goes again with those three words. As if I were a dog he could summon and dismiss at will.

I just laughed.

"Henry, are you deaf or just stupid?"

I picked up my glass and, with a flick of my wrist, flung the remaining amber liquid all over the front of his ridiculously expensive, custom-tailored suit.

"Get. Out."

The whiskey trickled down the fine fabric, leaving dark stains, ruining his perfect, powerful facade.

The air in the room instantly froze.

Quentin's friends looked like they had seen a ghost, their mouths hanging open.

No one had ever dared to treat Henry this way. I was the first.

His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, the veins on the back of his hands bulging. He was a breath away from exploding.

That's when Sophia finally made her move. She burst out from behind him with a mask of tragic tears.

"Jade! How could you do this to him?" she wailed, her voice trembling with practiced sorrow.

She was in a pristine white dress, and her makeup was soft and ethereal, making her a wronged, innocent angel.

"Henry missed dinner looking all over the city for you!" she sobbed. "And you don't even have the decency to feel guilty! You're in here with another man! Have you no conscience?"

Still crying, she lunged for my arm.

I sidestepped her easily, watching her melodrama with cold, detached amusement.

"My conscience?" I sneered. "You and your boyfriend ripped that out and fed it to the dogs a long time ago."

I turned my gaze back to Henry, casually saying, "By the way, how's my heart treating her? Is it a good fit?"

The memories flooded back, including the blindingly cold lights of the operating room, the clinical clink of metal instruments, and Henry's voice, devoid of all emotion, saying, "Begin." It all felt like yesterday.

The color drained from Sophia's face, her eyes betraying a sudden panic. She instinctively clutched her chest. That single, guilty gesture sent a wave of dark, twisted satisfaction through me.

Henry froze. He had seen it, too. And for the first time, a flicker of doubt entered his eyes.

"You're lying! You're insane!" Sophia shrieked, turning to him. "Henry, don't listen to her. She's just trying to tear us apart!"

Her explanation was desperate, her tears falling even faster.

"Tear you apart?" I sneered. "Darling, why don't you go to the hospital right now? Get a full workup. Let's show everyone whose heart is really beating in that chest of yours. What do you say?"

With each step, I deliberately crowded her space until I stood directly before her. My voice was a hushed murmur, meant only for their ears.

"Did you really think your little plan was flawless?

"Remember that syringe of tranquilizer you gave me, right after I went over the cliff? I think you got the dosage wrong. And so, here I am.

"I heard everything. I heard Henry tell the doctor, 'Use her heart. Save Sophia.'"

Sophia's body was wracked with violent tremors. She gaped at me with terror, as if she were looking at a ghost who had clawed its way back from the grave.

Henry's face, too, had gone rigid, his expression turning to stone.

The way he was looking at Sophia was different now. The blind protection was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating scrutiny.

That was what I wanted.

The seed of doubt, once planted, would grow. It would twist its roots around everything he thought he knew and tear it all apart.

Sophia's web of deceit had finally unraveled.