Chapter 4

He arrived with an entourage. A stylist and a makeup artist followed him into the house, their arms laden with garment bags and cases.

"Get dressed," he said, not looking at me. "We're going to the annual Pharmaceutical Society gala tonight."

I didn't argue. I knew why he was doing this. In public, he had to maintain the illusion that I was his beloved fiancée. It was part of his "responsibility."

An hour later, I was transformed. A flowing gown, elegant jewelry, flawless makeup. A perfect doll for him to display.

He led me to his car. I reached for the passenger door, but it was locked.

"You sit in the back," he said coolly.

I looked at him, confused.

"Kalea is coming with us," he explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "She gets carsick. The front seat is better for her."

The irony was a bitter pill. I got carsick too. He knew that. He used to be the one to remind me to take my medication before any long drive.

A humorless smile touched my lips. I opened the back door and slid in without a word.

A few minutes later, Kalea arrived, looking radiant in a dress that complemented Drake's suit perfectly. She slid into the passenger seat.

"Thank you so much for waiting for me, Drake," she said, her voice sweet as honey. "I was so scared last night. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Don't worry about it," he said, his voice a low, intimate murmur. He reached over and gently patted her head, a gesture of pure affection.

The sight of it felt like a physical blow.

Kalea then seemed to notice me in the rearview mirror, her eyes widening in feigned surprise. "Oh! Ms. Maynard, you're here too! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. Should I sit in the back?"

"No," Drake said firmly. "Stay where you are."

The drive to the hotel was torture. The winding roads made my head spin, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. In the front, Drake and Kalea chatted and laughed, their private world excluding me completely.

At the gala, I was his accessory. I stood by his side, my arm linked through his, a silent, smiling prop. He would introduce me politely to his colleagues, and then immediately turn his full attention to Kalea, introducing her as his "most promising protégée," his voice filled with pride.

I was a footnote. She was the main story.

The carsickness and the stifling atmosphere became too much. I excused myself, escaping to a balcony for some fresh air.

I stayed out there for a long time, watching the city lights, trying to breathe past the knot of pain in my chest. When I finally went back inside, the ballroom was buzzing with a different kind of energy.

Then I saw it.

Across the room, Drake was lifting Kalea into his arms. Her face was flushed, her breathing rapid. She looked... drugged.

He held her tightly, his own voice low and rough as he whispered something in her ear. "It's okay. I'll take you somewhere you can rest."

My heart pounded in my chest. I followed them, keeping a safe distance.

I watched as he carried her to the elevator, his steps urgent. I watched as he walked down a long, carpeted hallway.

I watched as he used a key card to open a hotel room door and carried her inside.

The door clicked shut, leaving me standing alone in the silent, empty hall.