After My Fake Death, My Ex Begged Too Late

My parents divorced when I was eight, and I was left with a father who was never home.

The nanny he hired stole every cent of the living expenses he'd set aside, then tried to sell me to traffickers.

Oscar was dragged over a hundred meters behind an unmarked car, nearly killed trying to save me.

He was barely breathing, but before he lost consciousness, he covered my trembling eyes with his hand.

"Don't look, little moon. I'm not going to die. I'm going to protect you for the rest of my life."

The light I'd mistaken for salvation—ten years later, it ran me through.

When I didn't speak, Oscar pulled a document from the nightstand drawer.

He pressed the pen into my hand, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and smiled. "Give up the direct-admission spot. Be good for me and sign."

The video on his phone kept looping. He couldn't take his eyes off it. "Damn, babe. Look at that body. And that voice—so sweet."

I was shaking all over, biting down so hard my mouth filled with blood—rage or hatred, I couldn't tell which anymore.

A long time passed before I swallowed tears so salty they turned bitter, and forced my ruined voice out. "I'll sign. Delete the video."

"Of course, baby. If you don't like it, it's gone. I promise—every last second."

His phone rang. The caller ID read My Darling Little Sweetheart.

He didn't answer. He pulled on his pants, picked up the signed document, and on his way out, pressed a kiss to my temple.

"That's my girl."

I sat there staring at his retreating back for a long time.

I didn't move until the tears had numbed me completely, and then I dialed a number I knew by heart.

"Mom. I'll listen to you. I'm coming."

That evening, Oscar came to pick me up for the celebration party.

A celebration for Meryl—for the direct-admission spot she'd taken from me.

I reached for the passenger door handle.

The window rolled down first.

Meryl's carefully made-up face appeared behind the glass.

She smiled, eyes curving sweetly.

"Oh, Barbara—Oscar said this seat's only for his most important person. You don't mind sitting in back, right?"

I'd gone with Oscar to pick out this car.

A gift to celebrate us both getting into Kingsley University.

The day he bought it, he'd decorated the whole interior to my taste.

He'd stuck a label on the passenger seat that read Wife's Seat Only and swore no other woman would ever sit in the place that belonged to me.

Now the plush charm I'd loved was ripped off and tossed at Meryl's feet, a clear footprint stamped across its white fur.

The seat still read Wife's Seat Only—and the woman sitting in it was the one Oscar called his most important.

Oscar acted like nothing was wrong. He pinched Meryl's cheek, grinning. "Hey, quit talking about my wife like that. My little moon's not petty enough to care about something like this."

I said nothing. He pushed me into the back seat.

The whole drive, the two of them flirted as if I weren't there.

Meryl was practically draped across him.

She noticed how pale I'd gone and twisted around with a bright smile. "Oh, Barbara—Oscar told me everything. Now that you know, I guess I can finally stop pretending."

She loosened her collar just enough to show the dense trail of marks across her collarbone.

The look she gave me was pure, undisguised provocation.

"God, you have no idea how wild Oscar is in bed. I screamed till my voice gave out and he still wouldn't stop. Tell me—is he like that with you?"

I looked at her, and my eyelid twitched once, beyond my control.

Like I was seeing her for the first time—this woman who'd followed at my heels for three years, calling me "sis" in that sweet, clinging voice.

When we first met she'd been so timid that my being there was the only thing that gave her the nerve to stand up to Oscar—*don't you dare bully her, and don't you dare betray her.*

Three years. That was all it took for her to become the person who bullied me the cruelest, and betrayed me the deepest.