ssenger seat, but the tension in the space between us was a living thing, thick and suffocating. I stared out the window, watching the famili

or hours about our dreams, about our future, about the small art gallery we would open together. He would tell me how much he loved my art, h

ld pinpoint the exact moment of its acceleration: the day Frida Tanner entered the picture again, demanding her "repayment of kindness." That day

red. Or the horrific hours of the kidnapping, bleeding and terrified, screaming his name, only to learn he was wit

estures could fill the growing void. I had questioned him, softly at first, then with a growing desperation. "Bentley, why do you spend so much time with her? We're getting married." He'd always had

glanced at the screen, a soft smile spreading across his face. "Frida?" he sa

ed. He made a sharp U-turn, heading in a completely different direction. The smile never lef

nt disregard for me. He was oblivious to my pain, lost in his

n gates gleaming under the afternoon sun. I recognized it instantly: the Tanner f

ed in a flowing silk dress, her hair perfectly coiffed.

a physical manifestation of the betrayal. It

of warmth. "Get out, Adelle." His vo

hed across me. His hand clamped around my arm, pulling. "I said, get out." He yanked me, hard, and my head struck

g the door for Frida. She practically melted into his embrace, her soft murmurs of complaint dying in his a

tenderly, placed her in my spot. I remembered the early days, when he'd opened the passenger door for me, a chiv

humorless sound. My sea

nd me, a symbol of my utter insignificance. They were headed to a charity auction, I re

cent of money and expensive perfume. "Adelle," he whispered, his voice low, as if trying to placate a child.

ed, or a new set of paints. His gifts then had been thoughtful, born

fortune last week on that antique brooch for Frida. And the week before, it was that rare sculpture." My blood ran col

ter foolishness wash over me.

oss the stage, landing on a small, glittering pendant, insignifica

y. "Fifty thousand!" The auctionee

mile on his face. "Here, my lov

t of nowhere, her eyes wide and innocent, reached out and br

ion. "Of course, my angel. Anything you desire." He handed it to her, his fingers ling

aned in, pressing a soft kiss to his che

, ripped apart by a thousand invisible blades. It was a pain so profoun

lse?" Bentley asked, his voice laced with

ion, and each time, Bentley would bestow my chosen item upon her

place next to the lovely Frida Tanner." The words, meant to insult me, were like a splash of cold water, solidifying my resolve. The class d

" I said, my voice barely a wh

ous. Don't spoil this." His voice was low, but edged with a familiar threat. "I've sacrifi

me through? After what he' d allowed to happen to my mother? The sheer audacity of h

ly. My vision swam, but this time, it wasn't tears of sadness. It was rage. "