Chapter 2

My fingers slid along the counter until they found the sharp end of a bar spoon. I jabbed it hard into the back of his hand.

He hissed in pain and instantly let go.

Madeline gasped and rushed to him, "Decky, are you okay? You're bleeding so much."

I steadied my breathing and wiped the blood off the counter with a clean cloth, my expression flat.

"If you're here to drink, you're welcome." My voice was cold. "But if you're here to cause trouble—"

I yanked the baseball bat out from under the counter and slammed it onto the bar with a loud crack.

I sneered, "We can start right now."

Someone muttered under their breath, "Told you Abigail's a nightmare. The Howard family spoiled her rotten. A rose with thorns. And now, without them backing her, she's still acting like she owns the place."

Before I could respond, Declan suddenly grabbed my wrist.

His eyes narrowed. "What are these injection marks?"

I tried to pull away. "Let go."

"Are you messing around with people you shouldn't be?" His voice dropped. "You're dragging the Howard name through the mud."

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Mr. Howard, I haven't belonged to your family for a long time. Did you forget?

"The day your real sister came home, I stopped being anything to you."

Declan's eyes darkened, hatred tightening every line of his face.

Madeline tugged at his arm, crying softly, "Decky, you're bleeding everywhere. Let's go to the hospital, please."

Then she turned to me, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Abby, how could you do this to Decky? He's always been good to you."

I met her eyes and smiled, "Then take your Decky and get out of my bar. Because if you stay, I'm not promising anything."

Declan left with Madeline and the others dragging him out.

His blood dripped onto the counter. I wiped it away with a rag.

Then I took out my pills and swallowed a handful at once.

The doctor had warned me not to take so many.

I didn't care.

I just wanted the pain to stop.

*****

By dawn, I finally closed the bar and stepped outside.

Rain was pouring nonstop. I didn't bother with an umbrella.

I had barely walked a few steps when someone yanked me into the corner of the alley.

Declan, his hand wrapped in fresh bandages, stood in the shadows. His voice was rough. "What are those marks?"

"Chemotherapy." I brushed rain from my face and gave him a thin smile. "You saw the diagnosis, didn't you?"

He froze, then scoffed, "Abigail, you're still lying."

"Then check." I shoved past him. "In Wexford City, there's nothing you can't find out, right?"

But I knew he wouldn't.

To him, I was just a liar who couldn't accept his precious sister.

Whether I lived or died didn't matter to him anymore.

He grabbed my shoulders, jaw clenched. "Abigail, why can't you just talk like a normal person?"

I looked straight at him. "Fine. I'll talk. If I tell you I need money for treatment, will you give it? If I tell you I'm dying, you'll believe me?"

Ever since Madeline was found—bruised and pitiful—one year ago,

Declan had decided I was the reason she suffered.

He stripped me of all my shares and property in the Howard family, cut off every source of income, and told everyone in Wexford City not to help me.

I was blacklisted everywhere. No respectable job would take me.

When I ran out of money and medicine, I clawed my skin raw through the pain.

Wounds were everywhere.

I curled up like a rat in the gutter.

And now he wanted me to talk nicely.

How laughable.

Declan stared at me for a long moment, then spoke, his voice suddenly tired. "How much do you need?"

I turned away and walked back toward the bar. "Save it for your darling sister's next dress. I'm not touching your filthy money."

I'd rather die with nothing than owe Declan Howard a single breath.

*****

I never went looking for trouble with the Howard family.

But Madeline made sure to shove herself right in my face.

She slid onto a barstool, wearing that smug little smile.

"Hard to believe the former Ms. Howard ended up in a place like this," she said. "What a fall from grace."

I ignored her.

"Well, it makes sense." She gave a soft laugh. "A fake is still a fake. Take you out of the Howard family, and you're nothing."

The glass in my hand clicked against the counter.

Dark blue mixed slowly with the orange-red liquor.

"You know what?" She leaned closer. "Decky bought me a necklace yesterday—the limited-edition one from your favorite store. He said you don't deserve things like that anymore. They're mine now."

A sharp pain twisted in my gut. I put the glass down and met her eyes. "Are you done? If you're done, you can leave."

She suddenly grabbed my hand, her nails digging deep into my skin.

She snapped, "Why are you so calm, you bitch? You stole twenty years of my life. After everything you took, you still pretend you're above me? You're just as disgusting as your broke, useless real parents."

I yanked my hand back and smashed a bottle against her head.

The shattering glass barely faded when the bar door was thrown open.

"Maddie!" Declan rushed in and dropped to his knees to pull her up.

"Decky." She held her head and started crying. "I just wanted to apologize to Abby, but she acted like she wanted me dead."

She kept sobbing. "It's not Abby's fault. It's mine. I shouldn't have come."

Declan turned to me, eyes like ice. "Abigail, you must really have a death wish."

He lunged at me and slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side.

My cheek burned. Blood filled my mouth.

I wiped the blood away, then slapped him back—louder, harder.

The whole bar went silent.

Light flickered across everyone's faces, making the moment feel unreal.

"Declan," I said coldly, "take your precious little sister and get out."

He froze, stunned that I dared hit him back.

He must've forgotten—I was the one he brought up under his wing.

He was the prince of Wexford City.

And I was the wild rose that never bowed to anyone.

"From now on," I said, each word sharp, "no one from the Howard family is allowed in here. Come in again, and I'll make sure you leave bleeding."