Chapter 2

Blood welled between my fingers.

A single tear clung to my lash.

It refused to fall.

*Don't cry, Mia.*

*You'll be free soon.*

*Don't cry... don't cry.*

Two more hours crawled by while Zion and Amy splashed around in the pool. When they finally emerged, I was waiting. Silent. Perfect.

I held out a set of clothes with both hands, head respectfully bowed.

"Ms. Swanson, please try this."

Amy pinched the fabric between two fingers like it was contaminated. Her nose wrinkled.

"Do you have any taste at all? It's so gaudy. Do I look like a festive decoration?" She thrust the dress back at me. "Even my aunt wouldn't wear something this outdated. It's tacky."

"Okay. I'll get something else."

I returned with a plain white dress.

Amy's face darkened the moment she saw it. She snatched the gown and hurled it at my face.

*Slap!*

"Do you have no sense of aesthetics? White from head to toe—who died?" Her voice pitched higher. "Are you trying to dress me for a funeral?"

Rhinestones on the bodice scraped across my cheek. A thin line of blood welled up.

Zion's frown flickered when he noticed the cut.

He said nothing.

Amy wrapped herself around his waist, pouting up at him. "Zion, I'm not wearing that ugly rag. Is she doing this on purpose? If I go out in that, the girls will laugh me to death."

Zion scraped a finger down the tip of her nose. Indulgent. Adoring.

"Little peacock. Don't I know you? You just want to outshine everyone." His voice dropped, intimate. "In my eyes, you look good in anything."

Amy batted her lashes. "You're just coaxing me. I bet you haven't even looked properly."

Zion flashed a wicked, predatory smile. "I only look when I'm ripping it off you." His thumb traced her collarbone. "You look best wearing nothing at all."

Crimson flooded Amy's cheeks. She pounded his chest with her small fists. "You're so bad! Don't say that—your wife is watching. It's embarrassing."

Zion scoffed. "Let her watch. She wouldn't dare breathe wrong." His gaze slid to me, cold and dismissive. "Are you afraid of her?"

They resumed their performance. Hands wandering. Lips brushing. Just short of a live show for my benefit.

Eventually, Zion grabbed a dried date from the snack tray and flicked it at my head.

"What are you staring at? Are you a wooden dummy?" He jerked his chin toward the closet. "Get new clothes. The best. The prettiest. Stop dragging your feet and pretending to be pitiful." His voice hardened. "Haven't I bought you enough?"

My fists clenched at my sides.

"I understand."

When I retrieved the next dress, my hands trembled.

I touched the diamonds—still sparkling brilliantly after five years—and something cracked inside my chest.

"So beautiful," I whispered.

But the one who would wear it would never be me.

I pushed down the rising tide of emotion and carried the gown out.

The moment Amy saw it, her eyes went wide. She reached out, stroking the fabric like it might disappear.

"Beautiful... it's stunning." Her voice was breathless. "This dress is practically tailor-made for me. It suits my temperament perfectly." Her head snapped toward me, accusation sharpening her features. "Why didn't you bring this out earlier? You had something this beautiful hiding away, but you kept bringing me trash. And you claim it wasn't on purpose?"

She grabbed the dress, eager to try it on.

"No!"

Zion lunged forward and snatched the gown from her hands. His gaze locked onto mine like a vice.

"Mia Henson. Who gave you permission to bring this out?"

I met his glare. My voice came out flat. Dead.

"You told me to bring the best and the prettiest. This was the only one I could think of." A beat. "Besides, it's never been worn. It's pristine."