Chapter 3: Scars and Goodbyes

“How much do you owe?” Adam’s voice yanked me out of my memories—cold, detached.

His words sliced through the night, sharp and clinical. He didn’t look at me, but I could feel the judgment in his tone. My throat tightened.

“It’s none of your business.” I squared my shoulders, trying to sound braver than I felt. The words came out harsher than I meant.

The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take them back.

I sucked in the cold air, my throat stinging from the booze. Then I started coughing, hard.

The alcohol mixed with the frigid air, burning my lungs. I doubled over, hacking, tears springing to my eyes. My chest felt tight, my head spinning. I tried to catch my breath.

The cold air sliced through my windpipe, pain flaring up. I gasped, fighting the urge to cry.

Each breath was a battle, pain radiating through my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the coughing to stop.

I bent over, clutching the lamppost. The alcohol churned in my stomach, tears streaming down my face as the coughing wracked me.

I felt like I might be sick, my stomach twisting. The world spun, the lamppost the only thing keeping me upright.

Adam stood next to me, watching coldly. I could feel his eyes, but he didn’t move to help.

He didn’t move to help, just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable. The silence between us was heavier than ever. I wanted to scream.

The cab finally pulled up. The driver leaned out the window. “Headed to Lakeview Estates?”

His voice was gruff, impatient. I nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave.

“Yes.” I steadied myself and reached for the car door, but before I could climb in, someone grabbed me and pulled me aside.

His hand shot out, catching me off guard. I stumbled, nearly losing my balance, and crashed into his chest. The contact startled me.

Caught off guard, I crashed into Adam’s arms. He asked, “Why are you going there?” His voice was low, almost accusing.

His grip was tight, almost desperate. His eyes searched mine, demanding answers I wasn’t ready to give. I felt exposed.

Lakeview Estates was a gated community—not somewhere people could just stroll into. My stomach knotted.

He knew I didn’t belong there, not anymore. The unspoken question hung in the air: Who are you meeting? What are you hiding?

I tried to shake off his hand, but he grabbed my wrist instead, holding me in place. I glared at him, but he didn’t let go.

His fingers wrapped around my wrist, the heat of his skin searing into mine. I tried to pull away, but he held firm.

His burning touch pressed against my skin, the heat sinking straight into my chest. I hated that it still got to me.

The contact sent a jolt through me, memories flooding back. I hated that he still had this effect on me. It made me furious and ashamed all at once.

I struggled twice, couldn’t break free, and looked up at Adam’s unreadable face. “What do you want, Mr. Foster?” My voice was steady, but my heart was racing.

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. For a moment, I thought he might say something real, but then the mask snapped back into place.

He pressed his lips together, his dark eyes deep and calm, impossible to read. I felt my patience fray.

He looked at me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved and was bored with the game. The indifference stung.

The cold wind whipped my hair into a mess, strands sticking to my lips. I brushed them away, annoyed.

Strands of hair stuck to my lips, my cheeks stinging from the wind. I let out a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

I forced a smile and said what he was thinking. “You think, like everyone else, that my money’s dirty, right?”

The words tumbled out, bitter and sharp. I was tired of pretending, tired of defending myself to people who’d already made up their minds.

“Eight grand a month. Is that enough?” Adam cut me off, his face stone-cold.

His tone was flat, almost mocking. The number sounded obscene, tossed out like an insult. My jaw clenched.

“What do you mean?” I stared at him, not sure if I’d heard right. My heart pounded in my chest, fear and anger warring inside me.

A mocking look finally appeared in his eyes. “Aren’t you short on money? Eight grand, fifteen—how much will it take?”

He sneered, the words dripping with contempt. I felt my face flush with humiliation.

I suddenly slapped him, the sound ringing out in the night. My palm stung, but it felt good.

My hand moved before I could think, the crack echoing down the empty street. The sting in my palm was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

A clear handprint appeared on Adam’s face. The mark was bright and angry.

His cheek reddened, the mark stark against his pale skin. For a moment, he looked stunned—almost human.

In the distance, his fiancée cried out in shock and rushed out of the car. The scene felt surreal.

Her heels clicked frantically on the pavement as she hurried over, her face twisted in confusion and anger. I saw her lips form my name, but I didn’t stop to listen.

“Go live your life—and keep your hands off me.”

I tossed the line over my shoulder and climbed into the cab.

The words felt good, sharp and final. I climbed into the back seat, the door slamming behind me like the closing of a chapter.