Chapter 10

For the first time in my life, I discovered that rage could actually break into laughter.

If there was one person in this world I never wanted to see hurt, it was Ethan.

Which was why, last time, I'd stopped myself at the very last moment.

I'd choked down my own desperate want, for nothing except the hope that he'd be happy.

And he was letting someone treat him like this.

This person I guarded like something precious — someone I couldn't even bring myself to push too hard — was being trampled by someone else. Dismissed. And he just stood there and took it, almost like he was grateful for the chance.

So what had my struggle meant? My restraint? My months of quiet, agonizing sacrifice?

A joke. That's all it was.

And in that moment, every last shred of reason I had left finally gave way under the weight of my fury and jealousy.

That night, I slipped the pills into his water again.

Double the usual dose.

He drank them without any suspicion and had barely closed his eyes before I was already in his room.

He was sleeping deeply, those long, dense lashes casting a small, still shadow against his cheek. The flush of fever hadn't fully faded from his face, giving him a fragile, dangerous kind of beauty.

I climbed over him and slapped him — not hard, not soft. Just enough.

I'd already lost my mind. I wasn't thinking about marks anymore.

I kissed him, bit him, handled him the way someone does when they need to break something before it breaks them first.

If all he wanted was someone to marry — someone to fill a slot, regardless of happiness — then why not me?

At least I would love him.

At least I would treasure every part of him.

My reason had been eaten away to nothing.

In no time at all, I had stripped everything from him.

The duvet kicked to the side, I was just on the verge of going further —

When his phone rang.

I grabbed it off the nightstand in irritation.

The next second, I felt like I'd been doused with ice water.

It was Margaret — Ethan's mother.

She was also my mother's closest friend. When my mother died and every relative passed the responsibility around like a hot coal, Margaret had traveled across the country to come for me personally, and brought me back to the Harrington home.

She'd gone abroad for medical treatment when I was in high school, and she'd been there ever since.

Her face surfaced in my mind — that perpetually gentle smile.

My hands went oddly stiff.

If she knew what I was doing right now, would she be disappointed in me?

I hesitated. The call ended.

And then she called again.

I sat with it for a few seconds, then made up my mind. I crushed the phone into my palm so I wouldn't have to look at the screen.

Doesn't matter. Let her be disappointed.

From the moment I first understood what I felt for Ethan, I'd already been deeply, thoroughly disappointed in myself.

The ringtone kept going.

I was afraid the noise would wake him. I stood up carefully, intending to carry the phone to another room.

But before I'd even taken a step, a hand shot out and locked around my ankle.

The grip was iron. It ground against the bone.

I became a statue — frozen solid in an instant. I couldn't even breathe.

One second. Two.

Slowly, I turned my head.

My eyes met Ethan's.

He was awake.

How long had he been awake?