Chapter 1

1.

Staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, I sat in the waiting room of a private clinic in Manhattan, my mind a complete blank.

Spencer and I hadn't spoken in two months. We were in the middle of a cold war.

Just then, my phone buzzed with an Instagram Story notification. It was from Vicky.

The video was shot at a beachfront mansion in the Hamptons, music blasting. In the frame, Spencer was playing Truth or Dare with Vicky.

When it was Vicky's turn, someone dared her to kiss Spencer. She leaned in so close her lips almost touched his cheek, her hands wrapped around his neck like they were a couple deeply in love.

Spencer's frat brothers were cheering them on.

"Kiss him! Kiss him!"

"Come on, Vicky, you know you want to!"

But Vicky suddenly pushed him away, making an exaggerated gagging motion. "Ugh, no," she said, her voice dripping with a playful whine. "Who knows what his mouth has touched? I don't want to catch anything nasty."

Everyone there knew who she was talking about. So did Spencer.

The party went quiet for a few seconds as everyone watched Spencer's reaction. After all, I was still technically his girlfriend. We were just on a "break," not officially broken up.

But he didn't seem to mind Vicky humiliating me. He just messed up her blonde hair with one hand and said indulgently, "Vicky, behave. You're such a little rascal."

Vicky crossed her arms, tilting her chin up high. "I'm not a rascal. I'm Victoria Vance. And I don't do leftovers."

Someone laughed. "Relax, Vicky. You're the perfect choice in every way―family, background, connections. Why would you even care about some gold digger?"

The video ended there.

And just like that, I knew. My three years with Spencer had been a complete joke.