Chapter 3

Mrs. Hale didn't dislike me.

She just loved Nina more. Nina was the girl from the right neighborhood. The right family. The one she'd watched grow up. The daughter-in-law she'd already picked in her head.

Back then I swallowed it and kept washing dishes. She told me my cooking was too salty. I didn't want her thinking I couldn't even rinse a plate right.

Chris pushes me down into the chair next to Nina's bed. He tells me to feed her. Then he runs downstairs to get her favorite soup from some bougie deli.

I stand up to leave.

Nina's eyes flick to the door. Then to me. Sugar back on.

"Bella, sweetie — Valentine's Day is in two days. What are you and Chris doing?"

She tilts her head, all shy.

"You don't know yet? I hate being alone on Valentine's. Chris worries about me. So every year he keeps me company. But don't stress! I pay him rent every year. Ten grand. Strictly business!"

She giggles.

"So even though you're — you know — older, and kinda plain, and a little boring — you don't have to worry about him cheating!"

Five years of Valentine's Days. Every single one, Chris was "working late." Or "on a business trip." He always promised to make it up to me. He never did.

Last life, I only found out the truth because I stumbled on their texts.

Ten grand every Valentine's Day. Rent for her Valentine's boyfriend.

Chris never cashed a single check.

He bought her roses. Baked her cakes. Set off fireworks on the beach. Took her up to rooftops to look at stars.

His phone had hotel receipts. Suites. Presidential suites. Multiple nights.

I'm sure they were just watching the glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall.

I've had enough. I turn to walk out.

Then Nina hears Chris's footsteps in the hall. Her smile sharpens.

She sweeps the food tray straight into my lap. Boiling hot porridge, all over me. A few drops splash onto her sleeve for the cameras.

The burn goes bone-deep. The fabric of my shirt melts into my skin. I can already feel the blisters forming.

Chris slams through the door. His eyes lock on Nina's sleeve. He shoves me — hard — and I go down on the linoleum.

"Bella! What the hell is wrong with you?! Apologize to Nina! NOW!"