Chapter 2

I went cold.

My swollen eyes locked onto his face.

Something inside my chest shattered—piece by piece—cutting deeper than any blade.

Couldn't breathe.

Yeah. He was right. I couldn't stomach him marrying Mia.

I was stupid.

I never realized it. The Paynes had already risen far above the Gordons.

Preston wasn't the bullied little bastard I used to protect anymore.

I was an idiot. I stormed into the Payne mansion waving that damning photo.

Screaming that Mia's mother was a shameless homewrecker.

And when Preston tried to shut me up? I lost it.

I threw it in his face that his mother had once been nothing more than a housekeeper.

So Preston Payne snapped.

He buried the story. Threw me out. Then came the payback.

He took that old intimate photo of us, cut his face out, and released it.

Only me. Half-naked. Broken. Exposed.

Just me. A spectacle for the entire city to feast on.

Twenty years of loving him? Turned into a punchline overnight.

The Gordon princess. Nothing but a cheap slut.

The mother lost to a maid. The daughter lost to a maid's daughter. Guess it's in their blood.

That's what people said.

That's why my mother—proud, sharp, radiant—walked to the edge of the penthouse roof and jumped. Splattered into a bloody flower on the pavement.

Right before she died, the depression lifted for one clear second. Her eyes went soft and sad. She grabbed my hand.

"Shea, baby… the way you chase after that boy? That's how I chased your father. Chasing so hard you can't even see yourself. It'll kill you, honey."

"Go find someone else. You'll see. Love ain't worth a damn thing."

So on the day of Mom's funeral, I skipped the service. Booked a yacht. Filled it with strippers.

And now I finally got to throw those words back in Preston's face:

"So what?"

I smiled wide. My nails cut into my palms.

"We're just friends, remember? Since when do you get a say in who I screw?"

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