I hastily released my hands.

When I crawled out of bed, he tossed me a business card.


It had his private number.

We began sleeping together frequently.

I suggested changing the location.


Having sex with Thomas's father in his home gave me a strange sense of guilt.

Thomas—I didn't know how to face him anymore.


I had Richard find me a new place. I couldn't live under the same roof as Thomas.

Every time I saw him in the kitchen, wearing an apron and carefully following recipes, my heart would ache.

When he washed dishes, I would watch him from behind, and he would turn to smile at me.

He gave me an unfamiliar feeling—for the first time, I experienced what "home" felt like.

He was a good man. I couldn't taint him.

When he appeared with his mother at the hotel door, my heart actually skipped a beat.

Now, standing before me on the dark street corner, Thomas held a bag of medicine, silently watching me.

He looked nothing like the boy who had confessed his love to me on that Ferris wheel. His eyes were hard, his jaw tight.

"Thomas, I'm sorry. I—"

I lowered my head to look at my shadow, and after much deliberation, still apologized to him.

Though it seemed hypocritical and insincere.

"Was it all a lie?" he interrupted. "From the beginning, was I just a way to get to my father?"

I couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes," I admitted finally.

"You've been lying to me all along. You said you had nowhere to go, you said you liked the cats I kept, you said you were too busy studying to date—these were all lies, weren't they?"

"Yes."

"Your face is beautiful," Thomas said suddenly. "These medications will prevent scarring. My mother shouldn't have hit you. I promise she won't come after you again."

I stared at him blankly, tears flowing uncontrollably.

For the first time, I tasted what it meant to regret something to the point of heartbreak.

I had previously declared I wouldn't regret anything, only now realizing how terribly wrong I was.

I had fallen in love with Thomas long ago.

I always thought I was just acting, not realizing I had already given my heart away.

I truly had no heart, but Thomas—he had given me a new one.

If only he was still willing to accept this tainted version of me.

I would abandon my past obsessions, no longer seek revenge. I wanted to live for him.

My hands trembled as I took the medicine he offered, my heart trembling too.

"Thank you, Thomas."

Thomas avoided my fingers, disgust flashing in his eyes.

My heart shattered—he found me repulsive.

"I haven't finished," Thomas laughed coldly. "Because you're not worthy. You're not worthy of my mother hitting you. Just a whore who sleeps with men for money—you're not worthy of my mother even looking at you."

My body felt like it had been struck by lightning, every pore trembling.

I looked up, meeting Thomas's eyes full of hatred and contempt.

He turned away impatiently, his words stabbing me like knives: "Don't let me see you again, Claire Jenkins. You're truly disgusting."

I gradually recovered from the dazed pain.

Don't cry, I told myself. It's okay.

This outcome—hadn't I predicted it long ago?

From the moment I climbed into Richard's bed, I was destined to never again deserve Thomas's warmth.

He was right. I was just a whore.