The night before my birthday, I discovered that the man I had loved for 3 years had been keeping score of every time he made me cry—and less than an hour later, he dropped to one knee in front of two hundred people and asked me to marry him.
Chapter 2
I returned to Ethan’s private club the next morning for my laptop because Tyler texted that he had taken it from Ethan’s car and left it there.
Chloe was playing cards when I arrived.
“Look who’s back,” she said. “Knew you wouldn’t last.”
“I’m here for my computer.”
Tyler pointed at a glass on the table.
“Old rules. Drink first.”
I smelled something faintly fishy.
My body went cold.
“What did you put in that?”
Chloe laughed.
“She’s learning.”
Tyler took out his phone.
“Timer?”
“Absolutely.”
Chloe grinned at me. “Just a little shrimp paste.”
I stared at her.
I had a severe shellfish allergy.
Everyone there knew it.
“That’s not funny.”
“Oh, relax. Ethan has your EpiPen.”
I reached into my purse.
My backup injector was missing.
Then I saw Ethan leaning against the bar.
He was turning my EpiPen slowly between his fingers.
My heart began pounding.
“Give it to me.”
He glanced at Tyler’s timer.
“Let’s see if you can beat your record.”
“Ethan.”
I could already feel the tightness beginning in my throat.
His smile faded slightly.
“You barely touched anything.”
“I can react from trace exposure.”
“You told me you usually have a few minutes.”
The room tilted.
My breath shortened.
I rushed toward him.
Chloe stepped in front of me, laughing nervously.
“Come on. Don’t ruin it.”
I shoved past her.
She stumbled against the table. A glass fell and shattered, cutting the back of her hand.
Chloe screamed.
Everything changed instantly.
Ethan pushed me aside and rushed to her.
“Chloe!”
Blood ran across her fingers.
Meanwhile, I dropped to my knees.
My chest felt as if iron bands were tightening around it.
People crowded around Chloe with towels and ice.
Nobody looked at me.
I crawled toward Ethan and grabbed his pant leg.
“My pen.”
He finally looked down.
His face went white.
“Hazel?”
I couldn’t speak.
Seconds later, the injector slammed into my thigh.
When I woke in the emergency room, a nurse stood beside me.
“You were very lucky,” she said. “A few more minutes could have been catastrophic.”
My throat was raw.
My entire body trembled.
Then my phone buzzed.
Chloe had posted a photograph of her stitched hand.
Ethan stood beside her.
The caption read: Worst day ever.
Their friends commented underneath.
Hazel actually pushed you?
Guess the punching bag finally swings back.
I stared at the screen.
I had almost died.
Chloe had needed four stitches.
Ethan had gone with Chloe.
That told me everything I had spent three years refusing to understand.
That afternoon, Tyler accidentally posted something in the wrong group chat.
A photograph showed printed pages scattered across the floor of the private club.
My photographs.
My private photographs.
Someone had printed them.
My hands shook as I typed: You distributed private images of me without permission. I’m reporting this.
Chloe sent back a voice message.
“Hazel, seriously? We’ve shared embarrassing pictures of Ethan for years. Nobody cares.”
I called the police.
Twenty minutes later, Ethan called me.
“You actually reported them?”
“Yes.”
“Chloe just got stitches, and you’re doing this today?”
“Someone distributed photographs I trusted you with.”
“We picked them up.”
“People saw them.”
“So?”
That single word finally severed whatever remained between us.
So?
I hung up.
Thirty minutes later, Ethan sent me an address.
The message read: There are backups on a hard drive at the old Westmore studio. If you want everything deleted, come do it yourself.
I should have waited for police.
I should have called Liam.
Instead, still shaken and desperate to reclaim the last pieces of my privacy, I went.
The studio was an old photography warehouse scheduled for renovation. Ethan was there with Chloe, whose hand was wrapped in gauze.
“Where’s the drive?” I asked.
Ethan folded his arms.
“Apologize to Chloe.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“She got hurt because of you.”
“I nearly died because you withheld my medication.”
“But you didn’t.”
Those words landed even harder than so?
But you didn’t.
Chloe sighed. “Can everyone stop being dramatic?”
I turned toward the door.
Then three men stepped from the shadows near the back wall.
I stopped.
They weren’t Ethan’s usual friends.
They were older, rougher, dressed like security contractors.
Ethan took my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re out of control, Hazel.”
I backed away.
He nodded toward the men.
“Ten minutes. Scare her. Make her understand she can’t keep threatening everybody with police.”
Cold spread through my body.
“Ethan, this isn’t a prank.”
“Exactly. Maybe you’ll finally listen.”
One man grabbed my wrist.
I fought him.
In the struggle, I knocked over a light stand. Glass shattered across the concrete, and Chloe jumped backward, striking her injured hand against the broken fixture.
She screamed.
Ethan rushed to her instantly.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Ethan, don’t leave me here.”
He paused at the door.
For one moment, our eyes met.
I searched his face for the man I had spent three years loving.
Whatever I thought I had known wasn’t there.
“Ten minutes,” he told the men. “Then let her go.”
He carried Chloe outside.
The heavy door closed.
The nearest man locked it.
Then his expression changed.
“So,” he said, “the rich kid’s gone.”
My mouth went dry.
“Whatever he paid you, I’ll double it.”
Another man laughed.
I backed toward the wall.
For the first time, I understood that Ethan had put me in a room with men he didn’t control nearly as well as he imagined.
One grabbed my coat.
I screamed.
The lights went out.
A thunderous crash came from the rear entrance.
Men shouted.
Someone yelled my name.
Then came running footsteps, the crack of wood breaking, and a voice I had known since childhood.
“Hazel!”
Liam.
The strength went out of my legs.
I remember seeing my brother running toward me.
Then darkness took me.
