Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
I remember the way he stared at me after he came inside me. It was like he was imagining a child already growing there. Just as I was in the shower when I placed my hand on my belly.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, but the pain doesn’t stop the flood of shameful memories rushing in.
“I’m going to breed you, Mira.”
The words echo in my mind like an off-key instrument. My dad always warned me about “lesser” men. He said they’d do anything to get with a girl like me because of our family’s money. I always scoffed at him and told him to mind his own business, but maybe he was right. And the last thing I want to do ever is admit my dad was right about something in my life.
My phone buzzes again.
Finn, again.
Again, I ignore it.
I hear the front door open and cringe as male footsteps approach. I can already tell they belong to Tyler. He smells like cologne and cigars as he comes around in front of the couch and looks down at me.
“Where’s your dad?” he asks.
I shrug. “Dunno.”
He frowns down at me. “What happened to you?”
Such a sensitive man. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You look tired.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I reply, standing. He follows me into the kitchen. I realize I never brought Mom her tea and instantly feel like a terrible daughter. With a sigh, I put some water on and go to the pantry for her tea bags.
“What are these?” Tyler asks behind me, and I freeze. Shit. I turn and see him glancing down at the photos. He looks up at me, confused. “Is that—?”
“Finn? Yeah.” I nod. “Package showed up earlier. That girl must have sent it.”
He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t smirk. He just lifts the final photo and stares at it like it’s some contagion—a virus that could infect the whole house if left here.
“It’s not your fault, Mira,” he says, sounding concerned. “This guy clearly isn’t the most moral man in the world. If he’s okay with blackmail, fidelity probably isn’t too high on his list.”
“I thought he loved me,” I blurt out, instantly regretting it. Why am I opening up to Tyler? He’s been cheating on me for probably as long as we’ve been together. He’s not exactly the guy to have the moral high ground here either.
That’s when it slides in—a thought. Awful and electric. Buzzing in my mind like a frayed wire.
If I can’t have true love, at least I can have control.
Maybe I can even have revenge.
I swallow hard and turn to Tyler, take the photo from his hand, and set it down. “Tyler?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t accept it.”
He frowns. “You don’t accept what?” He points down to the photos of Finn. “It’s all right there—”
“No, not that,” I reply. “I don’t accept you calling off our marriage.”
His frown deepens. He stares at me for a long moment, blinks several times, and takes a breath. “Are you for real?”
I nod, feeling like I’ve suddenly slipped into an alternate reality or a video game where I’m playing a different version of myself.
“Yes, I am.”
His eyes move faster as he examines me, trying to see if I’m screwing with him or not. I don’t blame him. I’d be thinking the same if I were him. Then, when he sees I’m serious, he smiles.
And I want to slap it right off his lips.
“So you want to get married?” he asks.
No, not really. “Yes.” I nod.
His smile broadens, and he moves in, slipping a snake-like arm around my waist. “Great. We’ll start planning today.”
The kettle screams, and I slide out of his grip and go to it.
I don’t feel safe.
I don’t feel loved.
I don’t feel wanted.
I feel numb. And for now, that’s good enough. It’s better than what I was feeling. And if I can’t have a life with Finn, maybe I can have one that doesn’t hurt.
10
FINN
It’s five o’clock, and I don’t need a psychic to let me know that something’s wrong.
Mira hasn’t texted me back. Not once. She hasn’t answered any of my many calls either. I haven’t had a single word from her since the tiny little half-asleep mumble she murmured when I left her in bed this morning and came in to work. I kissed her pretty forehead, scribbled my note on a piece of paper, and left it for her before climbing out the window.
Since then, I’ve been checking my phone every five minutes like a goddamn teenage boy.
Still nothing.
Not a heart, not a thumbs-up, not a smiley face or some silly meme or emoji. Not even read receipts. It’s like she’s just gone.
But this is the real world. People don’t just vanish, and girls don’t just not respond to texts unless they’re pissed at you. And that’s why I’ve been on the verge of panic all day. And when I see the clock tick to five, signaling the end of the day, I toss my wrench aside, tear my gloves off, and storm outside to my bike. I slide into the saddle and gun it, speeding down the road toward her house like I’m outrunning a fire.