Chapter 1

At my own engagement party, the man I'd spent three years loving hurled a lab report at my face. The words "High-Risk HPV Positive" blazed across the giant screen behind him.

In front of the entire city's elite, I was reduced to nothing. A slut. A dirty woman no decent man would want.

My best friend rushed onto the stage and pulled me into her arms, eyes red, screaming at him to stop.

But in the very next second, a vicious, triumphant voice exploded inside my head — one only I could hear.

Cry all you want, you stupid little fool. Your fiancé? I had him last night.

That positive test result? Consider it my engagement gift to you.

The blood drained from my body.

Hell is empty. The devils are right here beside you.

Fine. If this is the game you want to play, I'll make sure you regret ever starting it.

That thin slip of paper hit me like an open-handed slap across the face before drifting down to land on the expensive Persian rug below.

The banquet hall, loud and glittering just moments before, went dead silent.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes locked onto me like searchlights. The slideshow on the massive screen behind the stage — the one that was supposed to show our love story — had been replaced by a blinding medical report.

High-Risk HPV 16/18 Positive.

The words, in red, were blown up to an enormous size. They seared into my eyes like a white-hot brand.

Ethan stood in front of me. His face, the one I'd always thought was so handsome, was twisted with disgust and fury. He still held the microphone, and his voice reached every corner of the room through the high-end speakers.

"Do you have any shame, Serena?"

His voice was quiet but it cut like a serrated blade, every word designed to pin me to the spot.

"I've given you everything, and this is how you repay me? You're walking into my family carrying a disease like that? What do you think we are — a charity for broken, used-up women?"

The room exploded.

"She always looked so innocent. And she has that kind of disease..."

"Disgusting. How many people has she been with?"

"Ethan got so lucky he found out in time. Almost married that trash."

The contempt and cruelty from every direction pinned me to that stage like nails through flesh.

My whole body was shaking. I bent down desperately, not caring how I looked, reaching for the paper on the floor. I didn't understand. I had barely held a man's hand before. How could this be real? There had to be a mistake.

My fingertips were nearly touching the paper when a warm hand covered mine.

It was Vivian.

My roommate through all four years of college. My best friend. The girl who was supposed to be my maid of honor today.

She yanked me up from the floor and wrapped her arms around me in a way that felt almost possessive, squeezing hard enough that I could feel her fingernails through the fabric of my dress. She turned toward Ethan and snarled like a lioness.

"Have you lost your mind, Ethan? You know exactly who Serena is. That report is fake. How dare you humiliate her like this in front of everyone!"

The scent coming off her was my Jo Malone Blue Agapanthus perfume — the bottle I'd just opened. Normally I loved that smell. Right now it was making my chest feel tight.

"Serena, don't be scared. I've got you. We'll get this sorted out. The hospital must have made a mistake." Her voice was soft and trembling in my ear, perfectly calibrated, warm in exactly the right way.

I hugged her back, grateful. The tears finally broke through.

And then a breath of warm air grazed my ear.

A cruel, casual voice — one only I could hear — detonated inside my skull.

God, you're pathetic. Look at you cry.

There's no mistake. Because that report had my name on it — until I had it switched to yours.

Everything that's yours, I've already used. Your towel. Your mug. And... your fiancé.

You'll never know how good he was last night. The spot beside Ethan belongs to me.

Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

The tears stopped mid-fall.

I went rigid and looked down at Vivian's hand on my arm. Even through the thin fabric of my dress, I could feel the exact shape of her fingernails.

She was wearing my nude nail polish. The one I'd bought two days ago.

I'd said that shade made your hands look fair. Perfect for the engagement party. She'd laughed and asked if she could borrow it.

The three-carat diamond ring Ethan had put on my finger was digging into my knuckle, sending a sharp, stabbing pain up my hand.

I shoved Vivian away.

Hard. Hard enough that she stumbled backward with no warning and fell onto the stage with a cry.

"Serena... what are you doing?" She looked up at me with wide, glassy eyes, the picture of hurt and disbelief.

What is wrong with this crazy girl? That actually hurt.

The voice in my head rang out again. Clear. Merciless.

I wasn't going crazy. I had just, finally, woken up.

I looked out at the crowd drinking in every second of this spectacle, then let my gaze settle on Ethan's face — that carefully constructed mask of a face — and said, clearly and quietly:

"The engagement is off. Ethan, you make me sick."

I gathered my dress in both hands and walked out of that banquet hall without looking back.