Chapter 3

"You're transferring to LA?"

Carter had spotted the open email on my laptop.

Clara was sitting at the dining table, picking at her truffle pasta.

She complained it was too rich, eating only the truffles on top and leaving the rest of the expensive dish to go waste.

Carter didn't say a word about her wasting food.

I closed my laptop. "It's a company directive."

"Since when?" Carter frowned. "Something this big, and you didn't even consult me?"

I looked at him. "You were busy getting pasta."

Clara took a sip from her straw and asked in a small, innocent voice, "Is it because of me, Chloe? Are you leaving because I'm here?"

Carter immediately snapped at me.

"Stop taking your issues out on Clara."

I hadn't said a word. She was the one who brought it up.

But Carter had already decided that I was just being dramatic.

"Go tell your manager tomorrow that you're declining the transfer," he ordered.

"I can't."

"Then quit." He said it so easily. "It's not like your salary is that high anyway. Just find another basic job here."

Clara tilted her head. "But Chloe is so independent. I doubt she'd want to live off your money, Carter."

As if reminded of my "independence," Carter's tone softened slightly.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just don't feel comfortable with you living in a different city alone."

I kept my head down. "I don't need your permission."

Clara quickly tried to play peacemaker.

"Carter, I think Chloe is just sad about leaving you. She's just saying the opposite of what she actually feels."

Carter's expression relaxed.

He preferred that narrative anyway.

The narrative that I was obsessed with him, that I was throwing a tantrum, and that I was just waiting for him to comfort me.

For three years, I had indeed been that girl.

Every time he gave me the silent treatment, I was the first to apologize.

Every time he chose Clara over me, I told myself they were just childhood friends.

But "childhood friends" don't wear my silk slip dress and stand on the balcony, asking him:

"Carter, do I look like your girlfriend in this?"

That afternoon, I ran back to the apartment to grab some documents.

When I pushed the door open, Clara was wearing my white silk slip dress.

That was the only gift Carter had ever brought back for me from a business trip last year.

Clara hastily covered her chest.

"Chloe! Oh my god, I'm so sorry! My clothes were in the wash and weren't dry yet. Carter said I could borrow something of yours."

"I really didn't mean anything by it. I can take it off and give it back to you right now!"

She reached for the shoulder strap, but Carter immediately caught her hand to stop her.

"Don't do that," he said.

Then, he turned to me.

"Chloe, apologize."

I thought my ears were playing tricks on me.

"You want *me* to apologize?"

He looked dead serious. "You scared her."

"Clara was sheltered growing up. She's not used to being barked at."

I looked at that white silk dress.

I suddenly remembered the day I first got it. I had tried it on for Carter, excited.

He had barely spared me a glance.

"It's too revealing. Don't wear it out."

Since then, that dress had sat at the very bottom of my closet.

It turned out the dress wasn't the problem.

The person wearing it was.

I slid my documents into my bag.

"Keep the dress."

Clara blinked, stunned. "Really?"

I looked her dead in the eye. "I don't like keeping things that other people have already ruined."

Carter's face went completely cold. He grabbed my wrist.

"Step outside. We need to talk."