Chapter 4

Aubrey thought she must have misheard him. Apologize? For what? For being the victim of Kassie' s vicious lies?

She stood there, silent, her throat tight.

Connor' s brow furrowed in irritation. "What is it now, Aubrey? Are you going to be difficult again?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Kassie is okay, thanks to you finally learning some restraint. She saved my life, Aubrey. The least you can do is not antagonize her."

He actually believed Kassie was being magnanimous. "She' s the one who suggested this. She said she wants to clear the air, to fix things between you two for the sake of a peaceful household."

The absurdity of it all was staggering. Aubrey finally found her voice. She looked him straight in the eye.

"Why?" she asked, her voice raspy. "Why do you believe every single word she says, but you won' t even listen to me?"

"Because she' s not the one causing all this drama!" he shot back, his voice rising. "She' s giving you a way out, Aubrey! A way to make this right. Can' t you see that?"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Make it right? I will never apologize to her. Not unless I' m dead."

"Don' t push me, Aubrey!" he roared, his face turning red with anger. "Don' t make me do something we' ll both regret."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the locket her parents had given her before they died, the only thing she had left of them. Inside was a tiny, faded photograph of them, and on the other side, a picture of her and Connor as children.

He flicked open a lighter, the flame dancing dangerously close to the precious metal.

"Apologize," he said, his voice a low, dangerous threat, "or I' ll burn it. I' ll burn them."

"No!" The cry was torn from her throat. Tears streamed down her face. "Please, Connor, no. Not that."

That locket was her most prized possession. She remembered when the orphanage had caught fire. She had been safe outside, but she' d realized the locket was still in her room. Connor, without a moment' s hesitation, had plunged back into the burning building to retrieve it. He had emerged moments later, coughing, his arm badly burned, but the locket was safe in his hand. He had pressed it into her palm and told her, "It' s okay, Aubrey. As long as you' re happy."

She had taken the locket and put it around his neck. "You' re more important than my life, Connor," she had whispered.

He had worn it ever since. He had even sworn on it, sworn to her parents' memory, that he would love and protect her forever.

Now, he was using it as a weapon against her.

"I' ll do it," she sobbed, her body shaking. "I' ll apologize. Just... just give it back to me."

He snapped the lighter shut and pocketed the locket. "Good," he said, his voice cold again. "Someone will bring you a dress for the party."

He turned and walked back to his room without another glance, without a single question about her health or her week-long hospital stay.

Aubrey stood there, her heart a shattered wreck. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. That locket wasn' t just a picture of her parents. It held a picture of him, too. The boy he used to be. The boy who was now a stranger.

She raised a hand and slapped herself, hard, across the face.

Fool, she thought. You' re a fool for ever believing his promises.

That evening, a box arrived. Inside was a designer gown and a pair of stilettos with heels so high they looked like weapons.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped her. He knew she couldn' t wear heels. Her limp made it impossible. He used to be so careful about her comfort, always buying her the softest, most comfortable flat shoes, even when he had to wear shoes with holes in them himself.

"As long as you' re comfortable, Aubrey, that' s all that matters," he used to say.

This was another punishment, another calculated cruelty designed to humiliate her. Did he even remember her limp anymore? Or had he erased every part of the real Aubrey from his memory, replacing her with the broken, pathetic caricature he now saw?