The Wife He Threw Away for Her Best Friend

2: 2

I called my college roommate, Mila Dickerson, and asked her to book me an abortion appointment.

She was startled. "Isabella, you were fine when you went home this afternoon, weren't you?"

"Did that bastard do something to you?"

Then she murmured, "But we all saw how good he was to you. Back then he didn't even care about his own life..."

My chest twisted again.

I closed my eyes. "Mila, please. I'm asking you."

Without realizing it, I'd walked all the way to the gate of the school Owen and I had gone to together.

The stone lions at the entrance stood there, proud and grave, and for a moment I lost myself.

Years ago, Narelle had waited for me right beside those statues.

At eighteen, I was living out my youth at college.

At eighteen, she'd shown up on my doorstep after an unplanned pregnancy left her abandoned.

"Isabella, you have to help me... I don't have a cent to my name, and I've got nowhere else to go!"

I was a broke student too.

But I gave her every bit of the living money I'd saved anyway.

Even then, we were still a few thousand short for the procedure, and the two of us panicked like ants on a hot pan.

Owen, my boyfriend at the time, didn't think twice before transferring me the rest.

"When she's able to one day, she can pay me back."

Narelle's tears spilled over, and she thanked us again and again.

"You two saved my life. You're like parents to me! I swear I'll pay you back!"

She used the moment to add Owen on his contacts, saying it would make paying him back easier later.

And she stayed on in my dorm, begging me to take her in a little longer.

For that whole stretch, aside from not going to class with us, the three of us were practically inseparable.

I never imagined I was planting such a huge time bomb for myself.

Halfway across campus, someone recognized me.

"Isabella?"

I turned and met a face that was familiar and unfamiliar at once, a tall, good-looking man.

But I couldn't remember who he was.

A smile played at his mouth. "You've probably forgotten me by now. I'm Glen Harding, from the hosting club."

Then it came back to me.

Back then I'd been on good terms with the head of their club.

During recruitment, their club head had stepped out to the bathroom, and I was the one who'd personally brought Glen in.

That crisp, perfectly enunciated speech of his, plus the sharp, handsome face, really did make him a natural for hosting.

I gave Glen a smile. "I remember now. What brings you back to Quaid?"

"I'm building out my company, came to the school to recruit some talent. I remember you do auditing. Any interest in coming to work for us? No constant travel, very stable."

As he spoke, he handed me a business card and mimed a phone at his ear. "If you're interested, give me a call."

"Sure."

After parting ways with Glen, I made my way to the field of wildflowers Owen had planted for me.

Owen knew I loved wildflowers, so he'd planted them just for me.

By rights, no one had that kind of authority.

It was only because the year he won the civilian bravery award and was honored on TV, Quaid University became the talk of Greenfield.

When the school administration asked what he wanted as a reward, he said, "President, you're too kind. I only want to plant an acre of wildflowers for my girlfriend, to prove what we have."

Land on that campus was worth its weight in gold.

But the president gave in, and in front of the media he marked out a patch of ground for the wildflowers.

Not quite an acre.

But not small, either.