Chapter 3

EMMA

“I know you paid the waiter to spike my drink at the club.”

“What?”

The word slipped out of my mouth, small and weak. I didn’t even recognize my own voice. I stared at Alex, my heart pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

He didn't just say that, did he?

“You paid the waiter to spike my drink,” Alex repeated without hesitation

It was like he was speaking another language.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, shaking my head slowly.

Alex's eyes narrowed. “That’s why I felt so out of it after just a few glasses of whiskey. I thought I was just tired, maybe stressed. Yet, it still didn't make sense because I have a high tolerance for alcohol. But now I understand why. It was because I had been drugged.”

His cold eyes bore into me, and I hated the look of mistrust in his eyes.

“Alex.” I croaked out. “I don't...I swear I don't know what you are talking about.”

“You must be wondering how I found out.” he let out a humourless chuckle. “I went for my annual checkup yesterday. And guess what the doctors found in my blood. Traces of a drug called Virexa. The same thing you gave to the waiter to mix in my drink.”

My legs felt like they were about to give out. I grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter to steady myself. “But… that doesn’t mean it was me,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Alex, it doesn’t mean it was me.”

“Don’t bother,” he cut in, his voice laced with disgust. “I spoke to the waiter myself.”

“No.” I shook my head again, harder this time. “No. He’s lying. He's lying, Alex. You know me. You know I’d never—”

“I thought I knew you,” he snapped, his eyes boring into mine. “That’s what I said to him when he mentioned your name. That I knew you and you weren't capable of something like that. I told him you could never do something like this.”

He took a step forward. I took one back.

“Then he gave me proof,” Alex added quietly.

“What proof?” My voice cracked. “There can't be any proof because I didn’t do it!”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes drifted to the kitchen counter. My eyes followed and landed on the wrapped box. The birthday gift he had given me.

“I see you haven't opened my gift yet.”

“I haven't had the chance.” I sniffed, feeling confused.

Why was he talking about his gift out of nowhere?

Alex walked past me and picked up the box. I followed, turning my body to face him.

“Open it now.”

He was holding it out to me. I hesitated, then reached out with shaky hands and took it from him. I slowly unwrapped the box, my forehead creasing when I saw what was inside it.

It was a bracelet that looked exactly the same as the bracelet he got me for my 18th birthday. It was made of gold with the word 'PRINCESS' engraved in diamond. He never told me the price but I knew it was worth tens of millions.

But why was he giving me something so similar?

And then I realized that it wasn't similar. It was the same bracelet.

I remembered wearing it before going to the club to see Alex, but that was my last memory of it.

I blinked, looking up at him in confusion. “This is the bracelet you got me for my 18th birthday. Did I leave it at your penthouse?”

His face twisted like I’d just spit in his face.

“Are you really not going to stop pretending?” His voice was still low, but so much sharper. “I know you used this bracelet to pay that waiter.”

“No!” Tears poured down my face. “I didn’t! I don’t know how he got it, but I didn’t give it to him. It must've fallen or something. You know how much this bracelet means to me. You gave it to me! I would never give them away.”

“I see.” Alex said, and I could taste the sarcasm. “This bracelet means so much to you, but you've lost it for almost two days and you haven't even noticed it yet?”

“Yes, because I haven't even felt the energy to–”

He cut me off before I could explain, continuing, “And somehow, the bracelet that you randomly lost coincidentally ended up with the waiter who admitted to being paid to drug me?”

I stepped closer to him, tears streaming down my face. I needed him to believe me. “You know I’m not like that, Alex. You know I'm not that type of person.”

Alex stared at me for a moment, then shook his head.

“Yes, I thought I knew you. But maybe I've just been refusing to see the kind of person you are.”

His words hit me like a punch.

“What does that even mean?” I questioned.

“I know it was you who sent that text to my ex years ago. The one telling her I was just using her and that my heart belonged to someone else.”

I froze. Shame crawled up my spine. He knew? How long had he known?

“I—” I couldn’t speak. My lips parted, but nothing came out.

I'd been 16 years old and filled with jealousy over Alex being with another woman. I'd known it was wrong immediately after sending that text, but it had been too late. I never imagined it would come back to bite me like this.

A bitter smile spread across his lips. “Did you really think using a different number wouldn't make me know that it was you? All I had to do was get someone to track where the text came from, and I saw that it came from your house. I thought of confronting you, but I decided not to. I told myself you were just being a silly teenager and it would soon pass. But this?”

I swallowed hard, trying to form words. “I was wrong for sending that text, okay? I was stupid, and I regretted it immediately. But I didn't do this. I swear. Please, Alex. You know me.”

“That’s the thing, Emma,” Alex said quietly. “I did know you. Or I thought I did. That innocent girl who followed me around, who cried when I left for college...”

I choked on a sob. His voice sounded like the old Alex. The one who cared. The one who had always made me feel special.

“But maybe I gave you too much attention. I made you believe you could do anything you wanted in regards to me.” A pause. Then he added, “That ends now.”

“Alex—” I croaked, reaching for him.

“I want to remember you as you used to be,” he said, cutting me off. “Sweet and innocent and incapable of doing what you did. So do me a favor, Emma. Stay away from me.”

Somehow, those last words hurt worse than any of the things he'd said to me, the pain making it hard to breathe.

Alex turned. I thought he was done, but then he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

“We didn’t use protection that night,” he said. “I hope you at least took some protection.”

I stared at him, a hollow pit forming in my stomach.

“Are you two done?” Natasha's overly sweet voice drifted into the haze of my mind as I watched her re-enter the kitchen.

Alex gave me one last look. A look that held no anger. No warmth. Just... nothing.

Then he walked out with his arm around Natasha’s waist.

My tears had no sound. They just kept falling down my face, my heart feeling like it was being split in two.