Chapter 3

As I stepped out of the admissions office, my hands were empty.

The Cambridge application was in.

My heart skipped—a sudden, hollow plummet in my chest.

From this second forward, every twisted thread binding me to Carter was officially severed.

I barely rounded the corner of the hallway when a figure blocked my path.

Carter. His face was dark, a suppressed fury burning in his eyes. "Isabella, what the hell is this? Why did you freeze my secondary card?"

I met his gaze, my own eyes dead calm.

He lowered his voice, though the frantic edge of humiliation bled right through. "Lily and I were at Tiffany's last night. We picked out a necklace, and my card declined at the register! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

Taking my money to buy another girl jewelry, then having the nerve to confront me about his bruised ego.

"My family froze it," I said, my tone completely flat. "The account is in my mother's name. She decides who gets to use it."

The anger vanished from Carter's face in an instant. He was a master of the mask—in a fraction of a second, his features softened into that familiar, slightly wounded puppy look.

"Bella, don't do this... Talk to her, please? She dotes on you. She wouldn't actually cut you off."

His eyes darted to the empty manila folder in my hand, his tone shifting, suddenly hungry and probing. "By the way, did you finish the Princeton application?"

"It's filled out."

Relief washed over his face, instantly replaced by a tender, manufactured smile. "Good. Submit it soon. And Bella... really, talk to your mom. Don't let her freeze the card. I just... I need your support."

Need my support.

Need my money.

I stared at the face that had once made my pulse race, feeling a final, pathetic ripple of indignation.

I took a deep breath, words rising to my throat. "Carter, in all these years, have you ever, even once—"

A sharp, obnoxious whistle from down the hall cut me off.

Four or five guys in hockey jerseys swaggered toward us, led by the team's co-captain, Jack Thompson. A nasty smirk twisted Jack's face the second he spotted Carter.

"Well, well. Look who it is. The little bastard, begging his girlfriend for protection again?"

Carter's complexion drained. He expertly shrank into himself, slipping right behind my shoulder with practiced ease. His voice trembled. "Bella..."

Jack barked a laugh, pointing a finger at me. "You're slumming it for this piece of trash? You know his mom's a home-wrecking whore, right? An heiress playing bodyguard to a bastard—"

He paused, a cruel grin spreading. "Are you brain-dead, Isabella, or just blind?"

His cronies chimed in on cue.

"She's just desperate! The lower the trash, the harder she clings!"

"Step up and be a man for once, Carter!"

I knew this script by heart.

For the past month, it had been the same lines, the same blocking, the exact same routine of "bullying." But today, I was done playing the idiot who threw herself in front of the paint buckets.

I stepped aside slowly, perfectly exposing the shivering Carter behind me.

"Carter. They're talking to you."

Carter froze. "Bella..." he whimpered.

Right on cue, a slender figure rushed out of nowhere, throwing her arms wide to shield him.

Lily Smith. Her eyes were red, her voice shaking but fiercely righteous. "Leave him alone!"

I arched an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying the show.

I guessed Lily wasn't in on Carter's little setup. He staged this entirely to rush my application so he could comfortably pack me off to Princeton. And here he was, playing the martyr.

Jack blinked, then laughed harder. "Ooh, a new lapdog? What, you fighting Isabella for the privilege of babysitting the bastard?"

Lily whipped her head toward me, tears brimming, accusing me with every syllable. "Isabella, are you just going to stand there? They're terrorizing him and you do nothing? You're heartless!"

I almost laughed out loud.

Jack shoved Lily's shoulder impatiently. "Playing hero for her? You think you're Isabella 2.0?"

He lifted his hockey stick, feinting a swing to scare her. "Back off or you get it too!"

Lily shrieked, instinctively jerking backward. Her foot found empty air.

The back of her head slammed hard against the sharp edge of the marble windowsill. She crumpled to the floor, clutching her head. When she pulled her hand away, her palm was slick with bright crimson.

The pathetic cowardice evaporated from Carter's face. He lunged forward, dropping to his knees to gather Lily into his arms. "Lily!"

He snapped his head up, glaring at Jack's crew with genuine, venomous fury.

Jack paled. "I... I was just messing with her. I didn't mean to..."

Carter checked Lily's wound, then lifted his eyes to me. The look in them was murderous.

"Isabella! You just watched! If you had helped, this wouldn't have happened! This is your fault!"

Lily sobbing weakly into his chest, her blood staining his cuff. Jack and his goons awkwardly backing away.

And me, standing there like a convicted sinner.

I felt no anger. Only a bone-deep, suffocating exhaustion. I had acted in this play long enough.

I turned on my heel, ready to leave this pathetic stage.

"Stop right there!"

Carter carefully set Lily down and stood up, blocking my path.

"Isabella, you are going to apologize to Lily! She got hurt because of you!"

I looked into his eyes. The eyes I used to drown in. Now, I felt nothing but a stranger's indifference.

I remembered the gentle look in those eyes when he kissed me by the pool.

I remembered the vulnerability when he leaned on my shoulder and whispered, "I'm so glad I have you."

All of it fake.

All of it a perfectly rehearsed performance, just for me.

The last enduring spark of warmth inside me went completely dead.

I surged forward, dropping my shoulder and savagely ramming it into Carter's chest.

Caught completely off guard, he stumbled backward, tripped over his own feet, and fell flat on his back.

He instinctively slapped his hand against the marble floor to brace his fall.

I stepped right over him, grinding my stiletto heel mercilessly into his outstretched palm.

I kept walking and didn't look back.