Chapter 1Day one of being married, and I'm already on a plane back to the States.
Without my husband.
CEO duties called. Crisis management at our luxury brand launch.
But walking into that event? I see my childhood best friend throwing punches at my ex.
Over my stepsister.
My ex, Peyton Hayes, looks like hell. Designer suit drenched in red wine. Blood on his lip. The golden boy, completely wrecked.
Someone rushes over with a first aid kit.
Peyton stares straight at me. Then smirks.
"Give it to her. Let her fix me up."
Every single person turns to look at me.
I don't move.
"Not my job anymore." My voice comes out flat. "Call security. Let them handle it."
I turn to leave.
"Rain."
That bitter laugh stops me cold.
"Rain Mosley." His eyes narrow. "Few months away and suddenly you don't know me?"
"Oh wait, I forgot. High school dropout with no job... what were you gonna do abroad anyway? Bet you were too embarrassed to even call me."
He steps closer.
"You made Willow cry, remember? I sent you away to grow up. You used to fly back in three days max, crying and begging to see me. This time? Nothing. Months of radio silence."
His smile turns ugly. "Thought maybe you actually matured. But here you are, can't stay away. You heard I'd be here tonight, didn't you? Timed your little entrance perfectly?"
"Same old tricks. You never change."
My hands ball into fists.
I thought we were done.
His last words before I left were crystal clear: "Apologize to Willow first. Until then, we're over."
Months of nothing. No texts. No calls.
That was a breakup. Obviously.
"Back off, Hayes."
Chase steps between us, jaw tight.
"Rain's not yours to mess with anymore. I've had her back since we were kids. You don't get to talk to her like that."
He turns to me, voice softening. "Come on. Mom's been asking about you nonstop. Stay at ours tonight."
He reaches for my hand.
I grab a wine glass instead. Smooth dodge.
His hand drops.
"Thanks, but I'm good." I meet his eyes dead on. "Heading back overseas soon anyway. My husband's waiting for me."
I let that sink in.
"I'll bring him next time. Your mom would love to meet him."
Chase freezes.
Then laughs like I just told the world's worst joke.
"Rain. Come on. Stop playing around."
"You're not married. We made a pact, remember? None of us would get married. Just the three of us forever."
Yeah. We did say that.
Back when I was still dumb enough to believe them.
I was invisible growing up.
Willow, my stepsister, was perfect. Beautiful. Everyone's favorite.
Me? Nobody even noticed I existed.
I thought Chase was different.
Every New Year, he'd text me first at midnight.
When I got bad cramps, he'd skip class to bring me ginger tea.
I thought I mattered to him.
Turns out his kindness always had strings attached.
He'd text me at midnight, then Willow would post a photo of him standing behind her holding gifts.
He'd bring me tea because Willow wanted cake from the shop next door.
Senior year, I scored 300 points higher than her on college entrance exams. My parents begged me to wait a year so she wouldn't have to repeat alone.
I said no.
I thought Chase would back me up.
Instead, he logged into my account while I slept and deleted all my college applications.
When I confronted him, tears streaming down my face, he just shrugged it off. "You're smart. One more year won't hurt you. Willow needs someone with her. You're her sister. You should help her out."
That's when I finally got it.
My future would always come second to Willow's feelings.
Then I met Peyton.
Someone who didn't worship my stepsister.
While everyone gushed over "sweet, gorgeous Willow," Peyton would look straight at me and say, "She's got nothing on you."
He kept his distance from her. Ignored her flirting, her staged run-ins, all of it.
I thought I'd finally found someone who only saw me.
Until the accident.
One incident showed me the truth.
Between me and Willow, nobody would ever choose me.
Not even Peyton.
I'm done with both of them.
I turn to my assistant. "Why were they fighting?"
She leans in close. "That limited edition bag. Only one in the world. Launches tonight. They both wanted it for Miss Willow and things got... physical."
Of course they did.
I face the crowd, smile perfectly in place.
"Sorry about the mess tonight, everyone. All purchases are on me."
Then I look straight at Peyton and Chase, voice sweet as honey.
"And boys? Don't bother fighting over that bag anymore. Already mine. Better luck next time."
Chapter 2
Dead silence.
Then someone laughs.
Chase steps closer, voice going soft.
"Hey, hey. You're pissed I didn't call? Fair. That's on me."
"But where'd you even get money for that bag?"
I don't answer.
He reaches up to pat my head. "Just give it to Willow. I'll buy you something else. Whatever you—"
Another hand intercepts his.
Suddenly I'm airborne, locked in strong arms.
Peyton shoulders me away from Chase, already looking pissed.
"Back off. She's mine to deal with." Each word comes out sharp. "I'll take her home."
He turns with me still trapped against him.
I shove hard, dig my nails into his skin. He doesn't even flinch.
Not until we reach his car does he finally let go.
The second my feet touch ground, I slap him across the face.
The crack echoes through the empty garage.
Peyton tongues his cheek, staring at me. Something dangerous flashes in his eyes.
"Rain Mosley."
Used to be, hearing my full name from him meant I'd throw myself at him. Kiss away whatever was wrong.
Not anymore.
"Peyton Hayes." My voice comes out cold as hell. "We're done."
"Touch me again? I'm calling the cops."
He looks genuinely shocked.
Before he can respond, his phone rings.
He glances down, about to decline, then freezes when he sees the name.
His mouth curves into a smile.
From the backseat, I hear crying through the speaker. A girl asking where her bag is. Asking if he even gives a damn about her.
Willow. My baby sister.
All that coldness melts off Peyton in an instant.
"Hey, hey. When did I not care?" His voice goes soft. "Stop crying, okay? I'm on my way."
After hanging up, he doesn't even glance at me.
He just ducks out and slams my door, then taps the window and tells the driver: "Take Miss Mosley home."
Through the glass, he finally meets my eyes.
"Throw your little tantrums all you want. But when I say come back? You come back. Don't make me come get you."
"Willow's wasted at some bar. Gotta go pick her up. You just... go home."
I watch his reflection shrink in the rearview mirror.
I don't chase him. Don't call out.
I just lean back and tell the driver: "I'm ready."
Need to grab some documents anyway. Flying back to London in a few days.
I pull out my phone and video call my actual husband.
I keep it brief—downplay tonight, sweeten the rough edges until that pouty look disappears from his face.
He leans toward the screen. "Almost done here. Give me a few days and I'll send the jet to New York. Pick you up myself."
"Haven't held you in three days. Can't do another one. Just wait for me, yeah?"
By the time the call ends, we're pulling up to my family's house.
I head straight upstairs and collapse into bed.
Next morning, voices from downstairs wake me.
The second I appear on the stairs, my mom's voice hits me.
"You come home and don't even tell anyone? Just hide in your room? Not gonna help with breakfast? What, you think you're a guest here?"
I keep walking, sit down at the table, and reach for the bread basket.
"Wait up! Why didn't you wait for me?"
A hand slides past my shoulder, setting down a latte right next to my plate.
Chase drops into the seat beside me, all easy smiles, then glances up toward the second floor.
I look at the latte but don't touch it.
"I don't drink coffee. Makes me sick."
I push it back toward him.
Chase freezes, stares at the cup, then at me.
"Oh shit. My bad. Totally forgot."
He picks up the latte and takes a sip himself.
I don't look at him.
Growing up, Chase always bought three coffees because Willow loved them.
One for Willow. One for him. The third shoved at me.
At first I'd say: "Chase, coffee makes me throw up."
He'd always go: "Right, right. I'll remember."
Next time? Same thing.
Eventually I stopped mentioning it. Just drank it and dealt with feeling sick later.
After a while, I even convinced myself I liked it.
Not anymore.
I go back to my food.
My mom shifts topics. "Chase, honey, you know everyone. Got any decent guys you could introduce Rain to?"
I start to frown.
Chase jumps in before I can speak. "Mrs. Mosley, honestly? No one I know is good enough for her."
"Rain's got standards. High ones. Most guys don't even come close."
He says it while looking at me, smiling like he just did me a huge favor.
My mom snorts. "Good enough? Please. She didn't even graduate college. Barely finished high school. What kind of quality guy is gonna want her?"
"Actually, your Aunt Parker's nephew just got back from Harvard. He's forty-two, divorced, but he's got a house, stable job, benefits..."
"You're not getting any younger, Rain. Guy like that shows interest? Don't be picky."
Chase frowns. "Mrs. Mosley, that's not—"
"Don't need it."
I set down my fork, cutting them both off.
"Already married."
Chapter 3
Chase's hand shoots under the table, taps my knee.
"Stop messing around. Not the time."
Before I can answer, a shadow falls over me.
Someone's hand reaches past my shoulder and swats Chase's away, then drops into the seat beside me.
I look up.
Peyton. Still in last night's suit, top button undone, eyes bloodshot. But he's smiling.
"Mrs. Mosley." He turns to my mom. "Rain's all set. She's got me."
I'm not listening to him.
I'm looking past his shoulder at Willow standing in the doorway, eyes red like she's holding back tears.
The whole table goes quiet.
My mom stares at Peyton for a few seconds, then suddenly she's all smiles. Piling food on his plate, asking him a million questions, treating him way better than she's ever treated me.
Peyton answers smoothly while adding food to my plate without even looking.
But Willow won't look at Peyton at all.
She used to call him "Peyton" in that sweet voice, always asking for stuff, always needing something.
Now she won't even glance his way.
Instead she turns to Chase.
"Chase, when can we go to that gallery?"
"Chase, try this, it's amazing."
"Chase..."
Her voice goes soft every time she says his name, and every single time Chase answers and plays along.
Like they've built this invisible wall shutting me and Peyton out.
Peyton keeps talking to my mom like nothing's wrong, but under the table I see his hand clenched so tight his knuckles are white, veins popping out.
Every time Willow says Chase's name, that fist gets tighter.
Then another piece of food lands in my bowl.
I look down.
Ginger.
He's so wound up he's not even looking anymore, just grabbing whatever and dumping it in my bowl.
Fifth piece of ginger today.
I'm done.
I set down my fork, push back my chair, and stand up.
"I'm full."
Don't wait for anyone to answer. Just walk out.
The air outside is way cooler.
I take a deep breath and walk a few steps along the path.
Then I freeze.
There's a dog crouched in the shadows by the flower bed. Big, muscular, no leash. Staring straight at me.
My whole body locks up.
Suddenly I'm eight again, walking home from school in the rain.
Willow saw a stray, said it looked sad, wanted to pet it.
I said no. She didn't listen.
The dog lunged at her.
I shoved her behind me, told her to get help.
Used my backpack, threw rocks, screamed.
The dog knocked me down and bit my leg.
Willow never came back.
Some stranger finally chased it off.
Fifteen stitches. The scar's still wrapped around my calf.
We never had pets after that.
So why is there a dog here now?
Before I can move, it charges straight at me and sinks its teeth into my leg.
Pain explodes. I fall backward, my head smacks the edge of the flower bed, everything goes black for a second.
"Let go! LET GO!"
I kick at its head but it won't budge, teeth digging deeper.
Tears pour down my face and I'm screaming for help but no one comes.
I reach for the vase beside me, grab the edge, lift it, and smash it down.
CRASH.
I grab the sharpest piece and stab it into the dog's neck.
The dog howls and finally lets go.
I'm sitting there shaking, can't stop. Blood's pouring from my leg, soaking into my shoe.
Then I hear footsteps.
"Coco!"
Willow runs past me and throws herself next to the dog.
When she sees the wound on its neck, she covers her mouth with both hands, tears streaming down.
Then she whips around.
"You're terrified of dogs! Why'd you touch her?!"
"She doesn't bite unless you start something! I've had her two years! She barely barks! Why would you do this?!"
Voice cracking, getting higher.
"I know you hate me. But this? Seriously?"
I can't even speak. The pain's too much and I'm drenched in sweat.
But I still look up.
Two men are standing behind her.
