Chapter 27: A Great Place to Pick Up Tetanus
NATHAN JANG
Fiona’s laugh was a razor slicing down my spine. "What’s wrong, husband?"
"Don’t call me that." I put on my shirt and started buttoning it. "You drugged me."
She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement and malice. "So what? You still have to take responsibility for me."
"I have a fiancée." The words came out hoarse, my throat dry. It felt like I’d been chewing on cotton balls.
Her hand shot out, nails digging into my wrist hard enough to leave crescents. "After everything I’ve done for you?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "After everything you’ve done to me?"
The guilt hit like a sucker punch. This was my fault. If I hadn’t come running when Fiona crooked her little finger, she wouldn’t have had a chance to drug me. In the last two months, from the day she arrived, I’d chosen Fiona over Vanessa.
I should have seen it sooner—but I was too wrapped up in Fiona’s chaos, her endless storms of drama that demanded attention. Vanessa never asked me for help. She handled her own problems, alone, without support. Standing in the wreckage of her trust, I wondered how many times she had swallowed her pain while I rushed to soothe someone else’s.
"I’ll transfer money to you. Book your travel to France. After today, you and I are done."
Her smile turned feral. "You think this is about money?" She reached under her pillow and my blood turned to ice—but it was just her phone. The screen lit up with a photo that stopped my heart:
Me. Passed out on her bed, my shirt unbuttoned, her hand on my chest.