Chapter 3

3.

Outside the ICU at New York-Presbyterian, James handed me a warm towel. “Your father is awake, sir, but the doctors advise quiet.”

As I wiped the melted snow from my face, my phone buzzed.

The debate club’s group chat had over 99 new messages. At the top, a pinned announcement from the club president: “Party for Ethan’s win tonight at The Pierre, 8 PM sharp! Professor Monsen is coming, so dress to impress!”

Monsen was my academic advisor. Protocol dictated I had to be there.

At 7:50 PM, I pushed open the doors to the hotel’s private dining room.

In the center of the long table, Mia was seated at Ethan’s right hand―the seat reserved for his partner. She was wearing a black dress from Theory, her neck conspicuously bare. My necklace was gone.

When she saw me, her face flooded with a perfectly measured panic. “Oh my god, Chloe! We were playing Truth or Dare, and Ethan lost. Everyone dared him to trick you into coming… I had no idea you’d actually take it seriously.”

The table went silent.

The fever was making my head swim. It took me three seconds to process her words.

Trick you into coming.

Ethan finally turned to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie was loose, and he was holding a half-empty glass of whiskey.

“Don’t just stand there,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Sit.”

He gestured to the empty seat on his left. It felt like a handout.

I took a deep breath and walked to the chair. As the waiter pulled it out for me, Mia whispered to the person next to her, just loud enough for me to hear, “I was going to have her sit here, but Ethan said it was too close to the AC vent, and he was worried I’d catch a cold.”

The sharp sound of a fork hitting a plate broke the tension.

I placed my napkin on my lap and looked up, smiling. “Congratulations on the win. How was Zurich?”

Ethan frowned. “Are you running a fever?”

“A little,” I said, then turned to Mia. “What about you? Were you nervous during the competition?”

She was stunned, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“It―it was fine,” she stammered with a weak smile. “I just couldn’t sleep the night before the finals. Ethan stayed up with me in the hotel bar until 3 AM, going over strategy―”

“So dedicated,” I cut in, slicing into the scallop on my plate. “Not like me. I’d probably just be at home, binging Netflix.”

A suppressed laugh came from across the table. Ethan’s roommate, Kyle, raised his glass. “To Chloe, for always having a sense of humor.”

The mood thawed slightly.

But Mia wasn’t done. When dessert was served, she suddenly gasped. “Oh, Ethan, don’t you still have something of mine in your bag?”

Ethan reached down and passed her his Tumi briefcase.

Mia unzipped it and pulled out a clear makeup pouch. Inside was a bottle of makeup remover, a tube of mascara, and an unopened box of Plan B.

Time froze.

She took out the pouch, “accidentally” leaving the small box on the table before frantically shoving it into her purse. “I’m so sorry, my whole system is out of whack from the trip, my cycle is…”

She trailed off, but everyone understood.

Ethan placed a hand on hers, his voice gentle. “It’s fine.”

Then he looked at me, his eyes like ice. “Chloe, apologize.”

“For what?”

“For your tone just now.” He stood up, the base of his whiskey glass hitting the table with a thud. “You have no idea what Mia sacrificed for this competition. You, who’s never had to worry about money a day in your life, you can’t possibly understand.”

I slowly set down my fork and knife.

“Can’t understand?” I repeated. “So you let her stay in your hotel room, use your briefcase, and need emergency contraception the night before your big match―”

“That’s enough!” he roared.

The entire table held its breath.

I pushed my chair back and stood, my coat brushing against the back of the chair.

“Ethan Vance,” I said, my voice level. “While my father was in the ICU, you were helping her buy a morning-after pill.”

“While I was trapped at the airport, you were liking photos of her wearing my necklace.”

“And now you want me to apologize?”

I grabbed my purse and looked at the stunned faces around the table.

“Enjoy the celebration.”

As I turned to leave, Kyle grabbed my wrist. “Chloe, don’t do this…”

I shook him off, but I heard Ethan’s voice behind me. “Let her go. She needs to cool off.”

The hallway carpet muffled my footsteps. I stopped at the elevators and pulled the silver chain from my neck―a cheap, handmade thing he’d given me, the one I’d worn for three years straight.

The clasp dug into my skin as it snapped open.

I tossed it into the trash can next to the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

Just before the doors closed, I heard Mia’s tearful voice from the dining room. “It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have come…”

And Ethan’s soft reply. “It’s not your fault. She’s always been this dramatic.”

The elevator descended, my pale face reflected in the mirrored walls.

I whispered to my reflection, “Game over.”