Chapter 2

When I returned to the hotel suite on the island, the living room was littered with king crab shells, champagne bottles, and freshly torn luxury packaging.

Leah perched on the arm of the sofa, feeding peeled crab legs directly to Nolan's mouth. That lavish dinner, along with the limited-edition handbags on the floor, had all been charged to the paycheck that had landed in my account this month.

Seeing me walk in, Leah froze for a second, then quickly flashed a sweet smile. "Ivy, perfect timing. I saved you a piece of crab."

She held out the fishy-smelling crab leg.

I'd just suffered an aspiration-related lung injury, and my stomach lurched. I turned my head away on instinct.

Nolan threw down his game controller. "She spent all that time shelling crab for you and you make that face? Today's livestream disaster was bad enough. Don't come back to the hotel and start more drama."

"Do you have any idea what happened today?" I asked.

Leah jumped up at once, grabbing one of my hands and one of Nolan's, acting like the considerate peacemaker. "Come on, don't fight because of me. Ivy's just shaken up. She's emotional right now."

The moment she finished speaking, a notification chimed from the phone they used for streaming.

Only then did they realize the camera had never been turned off.

Live comments poured up the screen like a waterfall.

Some praised Nolan and Leah for looking like a real couple. Others asked who the pale woman standing by the door was and why she was crashing their date.

A few told me to stop being a buzzkill and leave.

Nolan glanced at the comments, saw which way the audience was leaning, and quickly ended the stream. He didn't explain that I was his girlfriend. He just pointed at the garbage scattered across the floor. "Leah's been filming all day. Her wrists are sore. Clean this up and take the trash out."

Before, I would have quietly reached for a garbage bag, because I always believed love required compromise, and because I was terrified that if I wasn't considerate enough, I'd lose the man whose silhouette reminded me so much of my brother.

But in that moment, I just stood there and looked at him.

"Nolan, I need to ask you something."

His impatience was obvious. "Are you seriously still on about the beach? Ivy, enough. You've got no family here, your job is nothing special. Besides me, where would you even go?"

I looked him in the eye. I didn't confront him about the group chat. Not yet.

A real departure never requires winning an argument first.

The next morning, I spiked a high fever. The hotel doctor advised bed rest, but Nolan yanked the covers off me and insisted I attend the San Diego Ocean Foundation's gala dinner.

"Some major sponsors for the national open-water team will be there tonight," he said. "Leah's got her eye on a gown in the charity raffle, and you going means one more raffle ticket."

My voice was hoarse. "I have a fever."

Nolan sat on the edge of the bed. His tone softened slightly, but the calculation in his eyes didn't. "Don't make everyone think you can't be a team player. You know my shot at the coaching job next year depends on these sponsors' votes."

In the end, he made me go to the gala.

Inside the gleaming yacht club, Leah wore the dress that had been meant for me and looped her arm through Nolan's for every photo. Nolan said my complexion looked terrible and would hurt his public image, so he parked me in a corner near the exit.

Halfway through the evening, Leah deliberately turned away to avoid a reporter and elbowed an eighteenth-century antique marine chronometer off its display stand.

The glass case hit the floor and mechanical parts scattered everywhere.

The foundation director's face turned ashen. "That piece is insured at four hundred thousand dollars. Who knocked it over?"

Leah panicked on the spot and clutched Nolan's sleeve.

Nolan made his decision in seconds. He crossed the room to me, leaned in, and lowered his voice. "Ivy, do me a favor. Say you were dizzy from the fever and bumped into it. Sign a statement accepting responsibility for now. Leah works online. A scandal like this would destroy her career."

I looked at him. "What about my career and my reputation?"

"You're just a project coordinator at an ocean supply company. It's no big deal. Once I get the national team position, I'll cover the damages for you." He even gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You've always been tougher than Leah. We both know you can handle this."

Before I could respond, he was already ushering Leah out through a side door.

They left me alone, burning with fever, facing the foundation's lawyers, insurance investigators, and every suspicious look in the room.

I didn't take the blame for Leah or admit the damage had been deliberate. I simply said I was willing to post a deposit to ensure the restoration wouldn't be delayed during the investigation. At the same time, I asked the foundation to preserve the full surveillance footage and note in writing that liability had not yet been determined.

The old me might have thrown myself under the bus for Nolan.

Now I was only buying time for my final exit.

When I stepped out of the yacht club, a cold rain was falling over the shore.

Nolan texted me: "All taken care of? Leah says thanks. She'll buy you a coffee next time."

I stood in the rain and dialed his number. In the background, Leah was laughing, relieved that no reporter had caught her looking bad in the dress.

I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. I asked only one question.

"Nolan, every time you placed a bet on my pain, did it ever occur to you, even for a second, that it actually hurt me?"

Dead silence on the other end.

I hung up, unpinned his contact, and deleted his number.