Chapter 3

Jillian Patrick POV:

Alexia laughed, her anger vanishing instantly, replaced by pride and satisfaction. She settled back into the passenger seat and crossed her ankles.

"Oh, it's such a romantic story," Alexia said, glancing sideways at Derek's rigid profile. "Back in college, he chased me for two whole years. To bring me coffee between classes, he took the commuter train across half the city to my campus. In the freezing cold, he would wait for hours outside my dorm just to walk me to the library."

Her voice was full of shallow vanity. "Of course I played hard to get. My mother always taught me that men don't value what comes too easily. I kept him hanging for months. And you know what this crazy man did?"

She reached out and playfully patted Derek's shoulder. Derek did not smile at all. His jaw was tight as iron, and his knuckles on the steering wheel were white.

"Alexia, stop," Derek said in a low, hoarse voice. "No one wants to hear about old college drama. It's ancient history."

"Oh, shut up and let me finish!" Alexia pouted, completely ignoring his interruption. "To make me jealous, he got so desperate that he actually said yes when some random girl at his school confessed to him."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Can you believe it, Jill?" Alexia laughed and turned to me. "He dated some poor, desperate girl just to test my reaction. That girl even cut ties with her family for him. Her parents had arranged a proper match for her back home, and she just ran away. Later she worked several jobs to support him, and Derek was only pretending to love her the whole time."

"I used to feel sorry for her. She thought she was building a future with him, but Derek only ever had eyes for me."

"Alexia! Shut up!" Derek roared, slamming his palm on the horn.

The blare echoed wildly inside the cramped car. Alexia flinched and pulled her hand back.

"Derek! What gives you the right to yell at me? I was just telling a funny story!"

"It's not funny," Derek panted heavily, staring fixedly at the road ahead. "It's disrespectful. Don't bring it up again."

I looked down at my hands folded in my lap. My nails dug into my palms hard enough to break the skin, but I felt no pain.

Seven years ago, my parents had arranged a stable match for me back home—a kind schoolteacher. Derek knelt on the plastic floor of my dorm room, weeping. "Jillian, you are my only hope. If you marry him, my life is over. Marry me. I swear I will spend the rest of my life making you happy."

I defied my father. My mother cried herself sick, and my father pointed at the door and said that if I walked out for a penniless medical student, I should never come back.

I walked out anyway.

I threw away my family, my inheritance, and my youth, all on one man. In the end, he had only used me as a pawn to provoke my best friend. Every night I stayed up doing bookkeeping, every meal I skipped to buy him anatomy textbooks—it was all an absurd farce.

A hot tear slid down my cheek. I immediately wiped it away with the back of my sleeve.

"Are you crying, Jill?" Alexia noticed. "Are you in pain? Is it the baby?"

"It's just hormones," I said, my voice flat. "The doctor said my mood might fluctuate today."

"Hang in there. We're almost at your place."

Derek parked the Audi in front of my apartment building. A four-story redbrick walk-up with peeling paint and a rusty fire escape hanging off the front.

"Oh, wow…" Alexia looked up at the stained brick wall. "Jill, once you get your child support, you really need to move out of here." She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to Derek. "Honey, carry her bag upstairs. The doctor said she can't lift anything heavy."

Derek froze for three seconds, then pushed the door open. "I'll take it up. You wait in the car, Lexi. The stairwell is dirty and smells like trash. It's bad for the baby."

"You're so sweet to me." Alexia leaned over and kissed his cheek.

I carried my canvas bag into the apartment lobby. Derek followed with the pharmacy paper bag. In the narrow stairwell, there was only the sound of our footsteps and the muffled noise of a television from the second floor.

When we reached the third floor, I had just put the key in the lock when Derek pushed in after me, shoved the door mostly shut behind him, grabbed my shoulders, and pinned me against the doorframe. It didn't latch all the way, leaving a narrow gap.

He pressed his whole body against me, his breath full of mint and panic. "Jillian, let me explain." He lowered his head, trying to nuzzle my neck, his hands gripping my upper arms hard enough to crush bone.

"Let go of me!" I hissed, shoving his chest with all my strength. He staggered back two steps, his messy hair falling over his forehead.

"Are you insane? Don't you ever touch me again."

"Jillian, please keep your voice down," he said, raising both hands. "Alexia is downstairs! If she comes up, everything is ruined!"

"Ruined for whom, Derek? For you?"

He wiped his face hard, and his voice shifted back into that condescending tone he had used on me for seven years. "You don't understand the situation. Alexia's father is the chairman of the hospital board! The fellowship in Boston was arranged by him! She's pregnant, fragile, and her family has money and power. If she finds out about us now, she'll lose the baby, and her father will destroy my future!"

"What about the child in my belly, Derek?" I pointed at my abdomen. "Dr. Evans said I have signs of a threatened miscarriage. Didn't you hear her?"

Derek glanced at my flat stomach. There was no warmth in his eyes, only cold calculation.

"You stay in bed and rest. I'll transfer five thousand dollars tonight. Buy whatever medicine you need. Have the baby quietly and don't make a scene. After Alexia gives birth and my fellowship is secured, I'll arrange a nice townhouse for you. I'll take care of you and the child. You just have to wait."

"Wait?" I let out a dry, cold laugh. "I waited seven years for you, Derek. And during those seven years, you were sleeping with my best friend."

"I did it for our future!" he snarled, furious and ashamed, stepping closer again. "Alexia was only a stepping stone! Why can't you understand that?"

"So my child and I should be your stepping stone?"

The doorknob suddenly turned.

The door was pushed open. Alexia stood in the hallway, holding up her phone, the camera pointed straight inside. She had just taken a photo, and the smile froze on her face.

She looked at Derek's hand still hovering in the air, reaching toward my arm, then at me, backed into the corner of the entryway with nowhere to retreat.

"What… what are you two doing?"

Derek recoiled like he'd been caught red-handed, retreating two steps, fingers trembling as he straightened his suit jacket. "Lexi, I… I was just checking her pulse. She was feeling dizzy."

Alexia did not even look at him. Her eyes were nailed to my face, and violent rage flared in them.

She shoved her phone into her pocket, rushed forward, raised her right hand, and slapped me across the face with all her strength. The sharp crack echoed through the empty stairwell. My head snapped to one side, and a burning pain spread across my cheekbone.

"You disgusting, backstabbing bitch!" Alexia shrieked, her whole face twisted with hatred. "I went with you to the clinic! I had my fiancé drive you home! I turn my back for one second, and you can't wait to throw yourself at him?"

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and reached into my canvas bag to stop the recording.

"I recorded that slap. Touch me again, and I'll call the police."

Alexia froze for a moment, then sneered. "You'll call the police? You seduced my fiancé, and you'll call the police?"

I looked at her and turned off the recording screen. "Alexia, you slapped the wrong person." I wiped the blood from my mouth. "Your fiancé got married seven years ago."