Chapter 3

“Get in.” Roy released Willow’s hand and approached the driver’s seat.

As Willow drew close, Sierra got out of the car in a fluster. “I’m sorry, Willow. I didn’t mean to make him drive me around like a chauffeur. I should get out of the front passenger seat. I’ll switch with you right now–”

“Hold still! You have a sprained ankle!” Roy stopped Sierra.

Before Roy could say another word, Willow opened the door to the back seat and climbed in. As the car drove off, Roy appeared annoyed, so silence hung heavy in the car.

Moments later, Sierra cocked her head back and said bashfully, “Are you upset, Willow? Roy gave me a ride to school to submit my work because I hurt my ankle. That’s all.”

Before, Willow would snap back with a smile, saying, “I thought it’s compulsory for freshmen to live on campus.”

Today, however, she could not be bothered to engage with Sierra.

Roy said, “She’s having a bad day. Don’t blame yourself or worry too much, kiddo.”

Sierra grinned shyly and pouted. “I’m not a kid anymore, Roy. I’m eighteen, and in a few years, I’ll be old.”

Her gaze lingered on Willow as she said that.

Roy appeared amused, tension lifting from his furrowed brows. After that, Sierra chattered away about her school life while Roy listened intently for once.

Willow looked out the window, her mind elsewhere. She wondered if Sierra’s connection with Roy mirrored hers three years ago. She would say the dumbest and most naïve things on purpose, and Roy would take the time to listen to her. He would even cup her chin and kiss her.

His kisses back then were light, cautious, and almost worshipful. Though time went on, Roy could not get enough of her lips. Only, those kisses became more demanding, possessive, and thick with aggression.

She once lost herself in his affections, until one day, Willow overheard a casual remark from Roy’s buddy. “I didn’t think Willow would be so easy. Once you’re tired of her, maybe I can have a turn.”

Willow fled the scene, unable to take another word. It was humiliating enough to have her private life laid bare, but the thought of hearing the truth from Roy’s own lips was too much to bear. After all, she still cared a lot about Roy then.

“Willow, could you?” Sierra’s voice brought Willow back to reality.

“What?” Willow looked up.

“Roy said you make the best short ribs. Could you make the dish for us, Willow?” Sierra asked with a smile.

Willow glanced at Roy through the rear-view mirror, but Roy kept to himself.

“Sure,” she answered.

“That’s great! Thank you, Willow!”

Then came a buzz from Willow’s phone.

Sierra texted, “Thank you for cooking for us.”

Another text message followed seconds later. “Do you want to know why Roy loves this dish?”

Sierra ended the conversation there. She took pleasure in Willow’s distress, eager to see her squirm in anxiety.

Willow simply dropped her gaze, so Sierra sent another text message as the car entered a villa community.

“Someone once made him the food. Do you want to know who it was?”

Willow put away her phone without responding to the texts.

When the car pulled up outside a villa, Sierra opened the door and stepped out. The moment her foot landed on the floor, she let out a cry and nearly took a tumble.

Roy was quick to break her fall.

“I’m fine, Roy. I can walk… Eek!” Sierra exclaimed as Roy swept her into his arms.

Willow emerged from the car and watched as Sierra clung to Roy, her head nestled against his shoulder, her coy glance meeting Willow’s.

That would have upset Willow before, but she would have had to keep her emotions to herself. Now, she calmly looked ahead and closed the car door. She was even so kind as to punch the passcode for Roy at the front entrance.

Roy took one look at Willow, his expression unreadable.

While Willow was blanching the ribs in the kitchen, Sierra’s cheerful laughter boomed from the living room.

When her phone vibrated on the counter, Willow expected another passive-aggressive text from Sierra. However. her heart quickly sank.

The message came from an unsaved contact, but she knew the number too well. The text was brief. “Transfer me a million bucks.”

Willow grabbed her phone and typed back furiously.

As the bubbling water spilled over from the pot, Willow knocked it off the stove in a panic. Immediately, a sharp, burning pain shot through her foot.