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Chapter 3
Jack only paused for two seconds before flashing that warm, familiar smile and squeezing my hand.
"Watching you suffer every day, it kills me, babe," he said softly. "Do you really want your husband to be in pain too? Be a good girl, take the meds for me, okay?"
As he spoke, he didn't give me a chance to say no. He pushed the pills to my lips, gentle but firm.
"Come on, let your husband feed you."
The capsules were half-pressed, half-forced into my mouth. I tasted the bitterness instantly, thick, sticky, and wrong. My vision swam, the world tilting as dizziness set in.
Jack took my hand again, his voice sugar-sweet.
"Honey, tonight's Coco's big night, her celebration party. You know how much she wants your support. If you don't show up, people might start saying you're bitter, jealous, can't stand to see your adopted sister succeed..."
"I'll go," I cut him off flatly. "Get me something to wear."
He already had everything planned out. Refusing would've been pointless. So I didn't waste the effort.
Right then, the door creaked open. My mom walked in, and the second she heard my answer, her face lit up like she'd just won the lottery.
"That's my girl!" she gushed. "I knew you'd come around. You've always been good at seeing the bigger picture."
She reached out to pat my hand. "After the party, I'll personally officiate your wedding to Jack. Our family will be whole again."
I slowly pulled my hand away, my fingers ice-cold.
My heart felt like ashes, grey, silent, already dead.
The car pulled up to the villa.
As soon as I stepped out, flashes exploded in my face like gunshots.
Panic surged in my chest. I reached blindly for my mother's hand,
But caught nothing but air.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turning away, arm-in-arm with Coco, smiling, radiant… and not sparing me a single glance.
My stomach dropped.
I ducked my head, yanking the brim of my hat down low to hide the scars. But it was too late.
"Miss Turner!" a reporter shouted, camera in my face.
"Is it true you tried to kill your sister in a jealous rage after she beat you in the modeling finals, but ended up burning yourself instead?"
Another one shoved closer, mic nearly in my mouth.
"How can you show your face here, knowing what you did? Doesn't guilt keep you up at night?"
A third voice cut through, full of venomous glee.
"You were such a queen on the runway, Miss Turner. What happened, did your sugar daddies finally get tired of your act? Was that why you couldn't handle losing to Coco?"
And then,
A hand reached out.
My hat was ripped clean off.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd like a wave.
Cameras clicked in a frenzy. Someone whispered "oh my god" like it physically hurt to look at me.
And I just stood there.
Exposed.
Shaking.
Burned.