t screamed "expensive assistant," appeared at my door. He didn't b

t my injuries. "I'm Mr. Johnson's executiv

sound lik

t continued, his tone flat. "He said to tell you not to worry ab

ing so dramatic. A little fire isn't a reason to throw a tantrum and

Dramatic. A tantrum. He thought my decision to leave him, after he left me to die, was a ch

ked at me, waitin

gged sob escaped my throat, followed by another. The tears I'd been holding back finally came, hot and furious. It w

rd I didn't hear t

at you. Crying

to see Emily Davis standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a fluffy pink hospital robe, looking perfect

bed. Her eyes, which everyone else saw as innocent, were scanning my injuries with a

ut," I

feels so guilty. He keeps saying it's his fault. But I t

er voice dropping to a

ath, "it wasn't an accident. The fire. I started it. A little short circuit in the server

dmitting it. She had set the

nsane," I

patted her stomach, a gesture so theatrical it was almost comical. "Mark and

twist. The lie was so blatant, so transparent, y

work-obsessed woman like you again," she c

still sat. It was a custom piece, a simple platinum band intertwin

he designed it. Since you two are getting a divorce anyway, I think I should hav

y reached f

, snapped me out of my grief-stricken haze. My tea

ack, my fingers cu

, my voice low and dangerous. "

the eye, letting her see

f this room right now, I will make sure everyone in this hospital, starting with t

t time. A flicker of fear appea

o proof," s

of the woman you left for dead," I sh