Chapter 3

That bracelet was the only thing I had left from eight years together.

The only proof that someone had once loved me.

It couldn't be taken away. If it was, then those eight years really were nothing but a joke.

"Give it back."

My voice came out dry and cracked.

Sophia blinked, then put on an exaggerated look of sympathy.

"This? You like it? But Evan gave it to me for my birthday. I can't just hand it over."

I stared at Evan, disbelief flooding through me. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"She saw it at my place and liked it, so I let her have it. It's just a bracelet. I'll get you something better. Don't make a big deal out of it."

Something inside my chest collapsed, and I shot to my feet.

"I said give it back!"

Sophia flinched like I'd lunged at her, letting out a little yelp. She shrank back, delicate and helpless, and her wrist twisted.

Crack.

The bone bracelet shattered against the floor.

I stood frozen, eyes locked on the fragments.

The last thread holding me together snapped.

My palm connected with Sophia's face.

She clutched her cheek, staring at me in shock, then let out a shriek and stumbled backward.

The next second, a massive force slammed me to the ground.

"Lillian, have you lost your mind?"

Evan's roar nearly split my eardrums.

I hit the floor hard, and sharp fragments bit into my skin.

But that pain was nothing compared to what came next: a savage, grinding agony that exploded from my right ankle like red-hot needles driven into the bone.

I couldn't stop the cry that tore out of me. I curled into myself.

The old injury. The ankle the doctors had warned me to protect at all costs after the fibula was removed—the one that could never take another serious impact.

Evan didn't even glance at me. He scooped Sophia into his arms, turned, and headed for the door.

The pain came in waves, each worse than the last. I could barely breathe. I forced the words out.

"Wait… Evan… my foot… the old injury…"

He paused and looked back at me. His eyes were cold enough to freeze skin.

"It hurts? Good. Maybe the pain will teach you what happens when you don't know when to stop."

The door slammed shut.

Nothing left but my ragged, gasping breaths echoing through the empty apartment.

Minutes passed. The pain didn't ease.

I lifted my head and, with the one hand that still worked, began dragging myself inch by inch toward the old landline on the other side of the living room.

It wasn't far. Maybe fifteen feet.

It took me a very long time.