Chapter 3

They dragged me here to get more footage of the family heir falling apart.

I take a slow breath and look the doctor in the eye.

“You're right. I was delusional. But I'm wide awake now.”

I stand up, leave Jasper and Vivian sitting there, and walk out.

In an empty corner of the waiting area, I open my phone and scroll past two weeks of unanswered messages to Jasper.

He finds me before I reach the first one, so I slip the phone into my bag.

“Gardi. There you are. I've been looking everywhere.”

I look up with a small smile.

“You're Vivian's boyfriend. What do you want with me?”

He glances back toward the consultation room.

“Gardi, come on. Showing the doctor those texts was for your own good—”

“Sure.” I hold out my hand. “My phone's dead. Can I borrow yours?”

He lets out a relieved breath and hands it over.

I unlock it on the first try. He's used the same passcode for years.

There's a group chat pinned at the top of his messages, with Vivian and the guys from her welcome-home dinner.

I open it.

She's posted a video titled The Fat Mafia Girl's Meltdown.

The thumbnail is my face, blotchy and wet with tears.

Vivian: You all think she's so calm. Give me two weeks.

Vivian: When I make her crack, you call ME Mafia Princess.

One of the guys: Video or it doesn't count.

Another: That whale's supposed to be your next Donna? I'd pay to see her lose it.

Jasper: Leave Gardi to me.

Under the video, Vivian has added another message.

[Your future Donna, gentlemen. Begging a man to love her.]

Jasper shifts beside me.

“You need to make a call?”

“Just a second.”

I angle the screen away from him and send the video and screenshots to myself, then clear the messages I just sent.

After that, I open his social apps, unfriend my accounts, block them, and delete my number from his contacts.

Then I hold the phone out to him.

“Well, this appointment cleared things up. I won't bother you and Vivian again. Wish you both the best.”

He looks down at the screen and goes pale.

“Gardenia!”

“What are you two doing?”

Vivian hurries around the corner and sees his phone in my hand.

“Why the hell are you touching my boyfriend's phone? Get some self-respect. Stop using your little ‘condition’ as an excuse to cross every line.”

I almost laugh.

She never worried about boundaries when Jasper was mine.

We'd been together for two years when she got sick and I asked him to drive her to the ER.

That's where they swapped numbers.

She insisted on taking him to dinner to thank him, and after that she started showing up on our dates, at our dinners, and on our weekend trips.

Jasper remembered her favorite drink, her birthday, even her allergies.

Whenever I questioned him, he gave me the same answer.

“I'm only nice to her because she's your stepsister.”

Vivian had hers ready too.

“I'd never even talk to that guy if he weren't your boyfriend.”

I believed them for years.

Now she's staring at his phone like she's terrified of what I might have seen.

Everyone at that dinner knew they were together.

My “lie” was the only true thing anyone said all night.

My fiancé and my stepsister have been sleeping together behind my back, and they've made me the punch line.

“Whatever you saw, you've got the wrong idea,” Vivian says. “I was just—”

Jasper snatches the phone back from me so hard I stumble.

“Seriously, Gardi? How many times do I have to say it? I'm not your fiancé. I'm Vivian's boyfriend.”

He steps in front of her.

“Being the Don's daughter doesn't mean you get to claim me. Stay away from us.”

Then he shoves me, and my knees hit the tile.

For a second, I can't get enough air to speak.

Vivian adjusts the camera inside her jacket.

People stop around us, whispering and staring while I push myself up from the floor.

Pain shoots through my knee when I put weight on it, but I straighten and raise my voice.

“Your boyfriend is the one crossing lines—”

Vivian goes still.

Jasper gives her a quick, reassuring look, then reaches into his pocket.

“Oh, shit.”

Something small hits the tile and skids toward my foot.

A dog tag.

Etched into the metal is one word: BUDDY.

I snatch it off the floor.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

Buddy is my dog, the one I brought back from my grandparents' farm when I was little.

After my mother died, my father sent me to live with her parents in rural Ohio.

They were old and set in their ways, and most days I might as well have been invisible.

Buddy followed me everywhere, even into the cornfield where I once got lost.

He found me before anyone else did.

When my older cousin stole my toys, Buddy would sneak into his room and bring them back one by one.

When my father finally came to take me home, I held on to Buddy and refused to leave without him.

They had to bring him too.

I made his tag myself that summer, copying the ones I'd seen on other dogs.

The little ring that used to attach it to his collar is bent open.

Jasper sees the panic on my face and exchanges a smug look with Vivian.

“Don't overthink it. I'm sure your dog's fine.”

I grab his collar.

“Where is he? What did you do to Buddy?”

He presses his lips together, putting on the same sorry look he used when he showed the doctor my messages.

“Come on. Let's go home. Celeste's making soup.”