Chapter 2

I stared at the shrimp for two seconds, then picked it up and ate it.

Within minutes, my neck started itching. A red rash spread across my skin.

Flynn gasped, and tears immediately spilled down his cheeks. "I didn't know Cullen was really allergic... I thought he just didn't want anything from me..."

Mom quickly pulled him into her arms and rubbed his back. Then she turned and glared at me. "If you're really allergic, why didn't you say something sooner? Did you deliberately let Flynn get upset?"

I touched the rash on my neck. "I did tell you. None of you believed me."

With that, I stood up. Without looking at anyone else, I turned and went back to my room.

Less than thirty seconds after I closed the door, Sloan pushed her way inside. Her expression was ice-cold, her voice low.

"Watch what you say. Don't breathe a word about what happened between us. You know perfectly well all we ever did was chat online to pass the time. Flynn is the only man worthy of being my husband."

I looked at her. I didn't cry or argue. My face remained completely blank.

"Sloan, we're done."

She froze.

I didn't waste another word on her. I turned away and shut the door.

I found my allergy medication and swallowed it with cold water.

Gradually, the persistent itching on my neck began to ease.

I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. My messaging app was flashing nonstop with messages from my only friend, Adrian Sanford.

His profile picture was an orange cat with a strip of beef jerky hanging from its mouth, and I'd saved him in my contacts as "Agent." He was my only real friend and also my literary agent. He handled everything from my publishing rights to my schedule.

Messages kept popping up one after another.

[Dude! Submissions just opened for that award everyone calls the Nobel predictor! Is Dark River finished yet? How about we go win another gold medal?]

I typed back: [Once was enough for the same award. Dark River is for the Nobel.]

I'd barely sent the message when someone knocked twice on my door.

Flynn came in carrying a plate of mango crepes, his eyes still red. "Cullen, what happened earlier was my fault. I made you dessert to apologize."

His gaze drifted toward my laptop screen, and he went rigid.

There were only two people in my contact list. One of them was Sloan. Her profile picture was the same photo of a snow-covered mountain she'd been using for six years.

Crash.

The plate hit the floor, sending mango everywhere.

Flynn's voice shot up so sharply that everyone upstairs could hear him. "Why do you have Sloan in your contacts?! Cullen, if you really like Sloan, I'll... I'll step aside. But how could you—"

Footsteps thundered toward my room.

Dad, Mom, and Sloan all appeared.

Dad reached me first, his face dark with fury. Without a word, he slapped me across the face.

Half my face instantly went numb, and blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. "You shameless dirtbag! Going after your own brother's fiancee? You've humiliated this entire family!"

Sloan stood behind them, anger burning in her eyes. She probably thought I'd deliberately left our messages where Flynn could see them to force her to admit what we'd been to each other.

She stepped forward and held out her hand. "Give me your phone."

I didn't move.

So she took it herself. Her thumb went straight to the spot where I always placed my finger to unlock it. The phone opened with a click.

She pulled up my contacts, tapped her snow-covered mountain profile picture, then deleted and blocked herself.

The comments were going insane.

[Holy shit! Look at the villain's face! He's gone completely pale! He's definitely about to expose their messages now, right?!]

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at each of them in turn.

My voice was quiet, but it didn't shake. "Anything else? If not, I'd like to get some rest."

The comments stopped.

Even Flynn's sobbing faltered. Whatever Dad had been about to say died in his throat.

Sloan stared at me for several seconds, something unreadable in her eyes. Her lips parted, but in the end, she said nothing.

One by one, they left. The door closed.

I was alone again.

I opened the messaging app.

Adrian was the only person left in my contacts.

I stared at the empty list for several seconds.

When I'd first met Sloan, the platform I'd been writing on had just forced me to sell the rights to the pen name I'd used for ten years. After that, I registered a new author account under Adrian's identity and started writing again from scratch.