Chapter 2

I didn't sleep that night. I just lay there, staring into the darkness, the replay of Cameron' s cruelty a constant loop in my mind. By morning, the initial shock had hardened into a cold, clear resolve. It was over.

My phone rang. It was my father.

"Alicia, honey, are you okay? I got your text. What's this about calling off the engagement? Did you two have a fight?"

His voice was a warm wave of concern that almost made me break down again. Almost.

"We just realized we're not right for each other, Dad," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "It's better to figure that out now than after the wedding, right?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want," he said without hesitation. "Don't you worry about the business side of things. I'll handle it. I'm flying out to see you. I've arranged for Atlas to come get you."

Atlas Conner. The head of our family's security. The thought of his steady, quiet presence was a comfort.

"Okay, Dad. Thank you."

I didn't tell him about Hannah. What was the point? Cameron wasn't worth the breath it would take to expose him. He was a coward and a liar, and I just wanted him out of my life.

A few minutes later, a notification popped up on my phone.

`Hannah Nichols has sent you a friend request.`

My finger hovered over the 'accept' button. A part of me wanted to ignore it, to block her and never think of her again. But another part, the part that was seething with a cold fury, wanted to see what this woman was all about. I accepted.

Instantly, a series of photos came through.

The first was a picture of Cameron and Hannah sitting at a cheap, plastic table in what looked like a roadside diner. A plate of greasy-looking fries sat between them. Cameron was smiling, a real, unguarded smile I hadn't seen in years.

I remembered how he always complained about my love for street food, how he' d called it "unrefined" and refused to eat anything that didn't come from a Michelin-starred kitchen.

A message from Hannah followed the photo.

`Cameron never liked places like this, but he eats here with me because he knows it's all I can afford. He said he loves seeing me happy more than he loves fancy food.`

The words were a direct hit. I remembered begging him to try the food truck tacos I loved, only for him to wrinkle his nose in disdain. It wasn't about the food. He was training me, preparing me for a life where I would always be the one to bend, to accommodate, to be less. The realization was a shard of ice in my gut.

My hand trembled as I swiped to the next photo. It was a close-up of two hands, intertwined. On Cameron' s wrist was a simple, braided leather bracelet. On Hannah's, a matching one.

`He said he saw these at a street market and thought of me immediately. Aren't they cute?`

My breath hitched. I remembered those bracelets. We had seen them on a trip to Italy two years ago. I had wanted them, had told him they were a sweet, simple symbol of a couple.

He had laughed it off. "Alicia, that's cheap tourist junk. We're above that." He'd steered me into a high-end jewelry store and bought me a diamond tennis bracelet I never wore.

Now I understood. He hadn't thought they were junk. He just didn't want them with me. He was saving that simple, sweet gesture for someone else. For his "true love."

I scrolled through the rest of the photos, each one a carefully chosen dagger. Cameron helping her move into a tiny apartment. Cameron reading to her when she was supposedly sick. Cameron looking at her with a raw adoration he had never, not once, shown me.

With each swipe, the pain became a dull, numb ache. The illusion of our love was being systematically dismantled, piece by painful piece.

Then, a new message from Hannah.

`He told me you have amnesia. Is that why you're still holding on? Because you can't remember how he doesn't love you?`

A cold laugh escaped my lips. This girl had some nerve.

I typed back a slow, deliberate reply.

`I'm sorry, who is this? Like you said, my memory isn't great right now. The name doesn't ring a bell.`

I added one more line, a little twist of the knife of my own.

`Cameron was just here, though. He mentioned he was sending some clingy intern away so she wouldn't bother us anymore. Was that you?`

The three dots indicating she was typing appeared, then vanished. A minute of silence passed. Then, her final message came through. It was chilling.

`You're going to regret that.`

I stared at the screen, a strange mix of disgust and confusion. What could she possibly do? She was just an intern. I was Alicia England. She was nothing.

I was so, so wrong.