Brad smashed his glass against the floor. The sharp shatter of glass instantly silenced the room.
“I don’t want to hear this again. If these words reach Kathy’s ears, I’ll make you pay dearly.”
His voice carried a low, cutting edge. “Are you trying to insult Kathy by comparing her to Wendy?”
The words fell like a relentless downpour, breaking apart every sweet memory I had of Brad and me.
A lie—everything had been a lie.
The person he had risked his life to save during the earthquake wasn’t me. It was his first love.
It felt as if I’d been plunged into freezing water, the chill seeping through my veins, hardening into icy shards that tore me apart from within. I wanted to grab the whiskey from the table and smash it over his head.
Why? What gave them, these people born into privilege, the right to trample on others? What had I done to deserve this?
But I couldn’t act recklessly. If I had no one, I might have risked everything, my life included. But I had Grandma. She scavenged trash to raise me. I couldn’t let her bury her own granddaughter.
