Chapter 3

My mom stood over me, her hand raised in the air as she glowered down with furious intensity.

"Are you out of your mind? Caleb told me everything about this afternoon. You're running around town as the biological son of the Fosters, mixing drinks at some cheap coffee shop? What kind of sick joke is that? If anyone in our social circle saw you, they'd make us a laughingstock!

"Whose reputation were you trying to trash? You did this on purpose just to humiliate your father and me!"

I clutched my swollen cheek, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Mom, isn't this what you guys wanted? You told me you weren't paying for my college, so I had to earn the money myself."

My dad stepped up behind her and delivered a brutal kick straight into my shoulder.

"How dare you talk back to her?!

"Evan, do you really think I can't see right through your pathetic games? You're just putting on a tragic show for the world, begging for public sympathy so you can force us to give you a piece of the family company! Well, let me tell you something, kill that dream right now!

"Get back to your room! Looking at you makes me sick!"

The force of the kick made me curl into a tight ball on the hardwood floor. I stopped trying to explain myself.

Stumbling back onto my feet, I gripped the stair railing and dragged myself upward step by step.

I glanced up.

Caleb was standing in the shadows at the top of the landing, staring down at my swollen, bruised face.

A malicious, triumphant grin spread across his face.

His lips moved slowly, mouthing one word: “Loser.”

Then he went down the stairs and threw his arms around my parents, whining playfully about wanting a brand-new sports car.

My parents immediately softened, showering him with affection.

I took one last look over my shoulder, then walked into my room and shut the door.

Sitting down at my desk, I opened my journal and drew a thick line straight through item number two. I needed to find a new summer job.

Heavy tears crashed onto the paper, blurring fresh ink into dark blue spots.

I set my pen down, crawled into bed, and let exhaustion pull me under.

When I woke up the next morning, my pillowcase was soaked again.

I laid there staring blankly at the ceiling for a long time.

I couldn't remember why I had been crying last night.

A sharp, impatient knock rattled my door, followed by a housekeeper's voice from the hallway. "Evan, your mother says to get downstairs right now."

When I walked into the dining room, a strange girl sitting at the breakfast table kept her eyes locked on me.

I didn't dare meet her gaze, keeping my head down as I took a seat.

Suddenly, she let out a cold, sarcastic laugh.

"Deliberately leaving your face unmedicated to play the helpless victim for everyone? Give it up, Evan.

"I'm calling off the engagement today, no matter what you do."

I looked up at her, my mind completely blank. I genuinely had no idea who she was.

I could only stare back with total confusion. "Who are you?"

She froze for a split second, her expression morphing into pure anger.

Behind me, a housekeeper whispered under her breath, "That's Miss Grace Rhodes, sir. She's your fiancée."

Grace looked like she was about to burst with anger.

Without caring whether I was done eating, she grabbed my arm roughly, dragged me out the door, and shoved me into her car before speeding off toward the Rhodes residence.

"Still pretending?!" she spat, gripping the steering wheel, "You have no idea how much I despise this pathetic act of yours!"

I tried to explain as calmly as I could. "I'm really not pretending.

"I've been sick. I just can't remember who you are right now."

Grace scoffed loudly.

"Sick?" She mocked. "A cold? A fever? A broken bone? Come on, tell me, what fake illness are you pulling out of your hat today?"

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

The truth was, I couldn't remember what was wrong with me either. I hadn't written it down in my journal.

To Grace, my hesitation was nothing more than a guilty admission.

She refused to say another word to me.

Once we arrived at the Rhodes residence, she dragged me into the living room and formally called off the engagement right in front of her mother.

Mrs. Rhodes looked at me gently, trying to give me a way out.

"Evan, sweetie, if you don't want to break off the engagement, I can step in..."

I shook my head.

I simply repeated the entry I had written in my journal.

"I don't want to like Grace anymore. So, let's end it."

Seeing my stance, Mrs. Rhodes knew there was nothing left to say and gave a slow nod.

I thought breaking off the engagement would finally appease Grace, but her face remained dark and stormy as she drove me back to my house.

She hated me, and I wanted nothing more than to stay out of her sight.

I hurried upstairs to my room.

The moment I pushed the door open, my heart dropped. The entire bedroom was trashed.

The wardrobe doors were thrown open, the duvet pulled off the bed and dumped on the floor, and my books scattered everywhere.

My most treasured piggy bank lay shattered in pieces on the carpet. Caleb stood over the wreckage, clutching a thick stack of cash from inside it.

He stared at me with an arrogant smirk.

"Mom and Dad never give you allowance." Caleb scoffed. "Where did you get all this money?

"You're unbelievable, Evan. You actually stole it!"