Chapter 4

Lucas didn't even glance my way, just took a bite of his burger with that familiar sly curl at the corner of his mouth. "Eat up, my girlfriend. So, let me guess. Dylan's having another meltdown?"

"Of course he is," I said. "And this time I really am getting a divorce. I've already drawn up the agreement."

The words had barely left my lips when the screen lit up with the glaring name of the man in question.

Dylan didn't bother with pleasantries. "Where are you? Get home. Now! I don't care where you are or who you're with. Come home right now. Do you hear me? What the hell did you do to Rebecca's son? He's been miserable all night. His mental state is already unstable."

But for once, I didn't panic. In fact, I had to strain to remember what I could possibly have done to upset the boy.

Before hanging up, I let my voice go cold. "I'm not coming back. I'm spending Valentine's Day. If Rebecca can't manage her own child, that's hardly my problem. And you, my soon-to-be ex-husband, you should stop calling me. You've got a long stretch of solo days ahead of you."

When we finally finished our late-night meal, I took a cab home by myself.

The clock on my phone had just ticked over to two in the morning when the car pulled to a stop in front of the villa.

I pushed the door open, only to find the living room still spilling over with loud, raucous laughter.

Dylan saw me walk in, and the tension that had been carved into his face all evening melted away in an instant, replaced by a flicker of condescending relief.

It was the look of a man who assumed I had finally exhausted my tantrum and come crawling back like a well-trained wife.

He told the housekeeper to bring me a hot beverage.

But before I could even catch my balance, a plastic toy car came hurtling straight at my face.

The sharp edge sliced across my skin, and warm blood began trickling slowly down my jawline.

Rebecca's son, Max, darted a quick glance at his mother.

The moment he caught her subtle nod, he planted his hands on his hips, planted himself in the center of the room, and shrieked with pure venom, "I don't want this woman in our house! Get out, you disgusting bitch!"

Heat shot through my chest. I raised my hand to teach the little brat a lesson, but before I could take a single step, Dylan's fingers locked around my wrist like iron.

"Don't pick a fight with a child," he said flatly. "I'll give you a villa in Nirvana. And another 17 million on top of that. Consider it settled. Stop making a scene."

Blood was already soaking into my collar by then, spreading across the chest of my shirt in a dark, wet stain. I pressed my hand against the gash, but the ache in my heart cut far deeper than the wound on my face.

Five years of swallowed humiliation rose up in a single, crushing wave, and yet, somehow, I couldn't even summon the energy to look as broken as I felt.

Rebecca chose that moment to glide over with a simpering laugh, looping her arm through Dylan's as if it belonged there.

Dylan has already agreed," she cooed. "He'll be attending Max's parent-teacher conference tomorrow as the boy's father. Sophie, I hope you don't mind?"

The way she said it made it sound as though the three of them were the real family, and I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Their friends erupted into laughter around us, their mockery hanging thick in the air.

But for once, I didn't take the bait. I didn't claw and scrape at her the way I always had.

They must have taken my silence for surrender, because their laughter only grew louder and more cruel.

I reached up and dabbed at the blood on my face, then turned to find the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

When I finally spoke, my voice came out as flat and cold as water left out overnight. "I don't mind."

Dylan, who had been lounging there looking perfectly at ease, froze in genuine surprise.

Dylan followed me into the bedroom, shut the door behind us, and stepped directly into my path.

"Look, I'm just playing a part," he said. "The kid's never had a father. I don't want him getting teased at school or feeling like there's something wrong with him. Don't read into it, and don't get jealous."