Carrying My Ex’s Secret

"Willow," Pierce said.

I stopped and turned back to him.

He met my eyes. "I think this could be more than just an online thing."

"Huh?" For a moment, my brain went completely blank.

By the time I left the coffee shop, my hand was intertwined with Pierce's. I saw the tips of his ears turn a faint red. My own face was burning like a hot coal.

As we walked past Monica and Pansy, their jaws practically hit the floor, their eyes tracking us until we were out of sight.

And just like that, I, Willow Ashford from the interior design department, became a campus legend. Everyone was whispering, wondering how on earth Pierce and I had gotten together.

I had to admit, no one could resist a man like Pierce—myself included. I’d even snuck into the architecture building before, just to catch a glimpse of him from a distance.

...

At the beginning of my senior year, Pierce and I won a major design competition. We decided to throw a party to celebrate, even though he was swamped with his graduation project.

"Come on, Pierce!" I pestered him, begging him to celebrate with us. He could never say no to me. After ruffling my hair, he finally caved.

At the party, our friends swarmed us with congratulations. I was so ecstatic that I ended up getting completely drunk.

It was well past midnight when Pierce carried me out and got us a room at a nearby hotel.

Drunk confidence is a dangerous thing. I only remember pushing Pierce onto the bed, clumsily fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, and nibbling on his earlobe and collarbone.

At first, he just chuckled at my clumsy advances. Then, suddenly, the tables turned. He had me pinned beneath him, his kiss tinged with alcohol, possessive and absolute, igniting a fire deep inside me.

When I woke up the next day, he pointed to his collarbone with a mock-aggrieved pout, as if he'd been terribly wronged. There, on his skin, were two neat little teeth marks. My handiwork.

"Well... I'll let you bite me back..." I mumbled, pulling the covers over my head in embarrassment.

One taste, and it was impossible to stop. In the soft morning light, we tangled together once more.

Not long after, Pierce suggested I move into his apartment. I happily packed my things and moved in with him.

...

Right before graduation, Pierce flew to Europe for an architectural project. I was home alone, drowning in stress over my own final project.

That’s when a woman named Caroline Vance rang the doorbell. "I'm Pierce's stepmother," she announced.

She got straight to the point, laying out the Montgomery family's illustrious background. It turned out they were one of the top real estate developers in New York, with landmark properties all over the country.

I braced myself for the classic "you're not good enough for my son" speech, but instead, she handed me a folder.

"You're Marcus Ashford's daughter, correct?" she asked.

"Yes." My father.

Caroline offered a faint, tight smile. "Then you should take a good look at what's inside. I can see myself out."

She set down her untouched water glass and left as gracefully as she'd arrived.

Confused, I opened the folder. What could my father possibly have to do with the Montgomerys? The question echoed in my mind. As I read the documents inside, my blood ran cold.

I have a vague memory from about twenty years ago, of Mom and Dad always being busy. We lived in a large house with a beautiful garden and a wide terrace.

The house was always filled with snacks, blueprints, and model-making supplies.

All that changed one day when Dad told Olivia and me that we were moving.