Click here to read the full version
Crack! My fiancé hit me. Three minutes ago, I had been daydreaming about how to decorate our ridiculously expensive penthouse apartment, where every corner looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. Two minutes ago, I accidentally broke a mug. Then, Rhys slapped me across the face—hard. My cheek burned like it had been seared by fire. It took a full thirty seconds before my brain restarted, slowly piecing reality back together. "Are you fucking insane?" I gritted my teeth, forcing the words through the cracks of my jaw. Rhys's lips were pressed into a cold, tight line, his expression dark and resolute. "It was just a mug with Catherine's face on it," he said, as if my reaction was an overblown performance, not the result of something horrifying he had just done. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." I stared at him in disbelief, my chest heaving as rage and humiliation churned violently inside me, ready to explode. For half a second—just half—something like guilt flickered across his face. Then it vanished, consumed by a storm of fury. "No, you're the insane one!" he roared. "I already agreed to marry you—what more do you want? Catherine's gone, but you still broke that mug on purpose!" His voice trembled with anger. "She was your sister! She had to leave because of you! And now you're jealous of her? You won't rest until every trace of her is erased, will you?" The hatred in his eyes cut deeper than the slap. My cheek throbbed. My hand was still bleeding. But nothing hurt more than my heart. I forced myself to unclench my jaw and made one last attempt to explain. "It wasn't me. I never asked her to leave." Technically speaking, I understood why someone might say that. Catherine had left behind a letter. In it, she said she'd seen my diary, realized I had a crush on Rhys, and decided to "let go," to "let him be yours." I don't think she ever understood that a diary meant privacy. I never meant for anyone to read it, but not only did she read it—she told
