I.
“Why did you do it?” she asked softly, eyes slowly lifting to mine.
I had a feeling she wasn’t referring to me holding her hair back.
I worked my lips to the side. Which part? Our history was tangled in bad choices…bad, inevitable choices.
“You were supposed to leave after a month.”
I blinked, not sure what to say, because this was news to me.
“You were supposed to leave and then…he would learn to love me again. I was okay waiting for that. That…I could handle.”
She played with the soft fabric of her dress. She wasn’t angry, just resigned, as if reciting a sad part of history long forgotten.
Slowly her eyes wandered back to me. “He was going to give up everything for you. You won.”
I know I should stay quiet, but I couldn’t.
Not about this.
“And he would have been so miserable.”
Her brows caved at that, tears filled her eyes, and her ministrations froze in the fabric.
“I hate you.” She sounded like she was saying it more to affirm it to herself.
I didn’t do anything, I don’t think she wanted me to do anything. I think in a weird way, we were the only people who understood. We’d both murdered all the decent things inside us for love.
The same jagged shard had pierced both of us.
“I hate you,” she said again, with more emphasis, staring at me.
Waiting.
“I hate you too,” I said.
She exhaled a deep sigh, like good.
“Does Grayson know you’re this sick?”
“Hopefully I’ll lose it.” She shook her head and whispered so low I barely heard it. “It’s the least I deserve.”
Before I could say anything to that, she stood. I followed suit, as outside the sound of Christmas got closer—bells and giggles and orchestral music. She lingered, holding the handkerchief, a look in her eyes I recognized too well.
From Grayson.
It felt like she wanted to tell me something, but kept stopping herself.
What was she to me now? What was I to her? Lottie and I weren’t friends, we hadn’t ever been acquaintances. First, she was the woman whose happily ever after I stole. Then, the love of my life’s fiancée. Now my secret husband’s wife. My once sister-in-law.
Fate seemed determined to make us enemies, but I’d never once hated her. Not really.
Were we just two hearts destined to collide?
So I did the thing I’d learned too well from Grayson. I stick my heart on my sleeve and bleed.
“Lottie, do you need someone?”
She blinked, and I saw it for a moment—fear, heartache, and self-loathing.
Then she hardened her face. “From you?” Anger washed her features. “Do you have any idea what you did?” She shook her head ruefully. “Maybe, or maybe not, because this is the real you, isn’t it? You act nice, but you destroy everyone. Do you have any idea what’s happened to him because of you? If you loved him, you would have left with him. You wouldn’t have left him.”
My mouth dried. “What happened?”
“The next morning, after Grayson didn’t run away with you…” Lottie opened her mouth, then closed it.
“What?” I gripped her arm. “What happened while I was away?”
Dread coiled in my gut the longer she went without speaking.
Slowly, her icy eyes met mine. “He’s a prisoner in this house because of you.”
Grayson Crowne, a prisoner in his own home?
I didn’t believe it.
I couldn’t.
“You’re lying.”
She tore her arm out of my grip. “I think that’s your specialty, Story.”
She spun on her heel, the door slamming shut behind her.
I stared at the closed door, her words spiraling on repeat in my head.
They poked at all the worries that had been burrowing holes in my heart.
Was this the real me?
Had I made a huge mistake?
And what the fuck happened to Grayson? Prisoner.
The door opened again, and I lifted my head, assuming it was Lottie. Instead, the servant I recognized from the day I’d first had tea as West’s wife stood before me. She had blonde hair and brown eyes, and had been kind enough that day.
Still, wariness filled my veins—were the servants planning some kind of revenge? I was exhausted at the thought. Too many monsters lived in Crowne Hall.
She thrust her hand out, revealing a silky piece of paper. “Read it then hold it over the candle until it’s nothing but ash. You are not safe.”
I took the paper, confusion seeping through me. “What—” I looked up and she was already leaving. “Wait.” I gripped her arm. “What’s going on? Why are you giving this to me?” Why are you helping me?
She looked over her shoulder. “You have friends here,