Page 143 of What Comes Around

“I—I thought it was him—”

“You thought?” My voice cracked, sharp with fury. “I paid you. I paid you to get me that condom. I paid you to make sure it was his.”

My pulse roared in my ears as the memory hit, bright and vivid. The bathroom. The condom wrapped in tissue. The syringe I’d ordered online. My hands trembling as I used it, praying it would work.

I had done everything right.

And it had worked.

The test had turned positive. I had cried with relief, with triumph, with vindication. It hadn’t mattered that Knox knew we hadn’t slept together. DNA didn’t lie. He would have no proof otherwise. He would have no choice but to accept it.

Even if he never touched me again, it didn’t matter. A child would tie him to me forever. Eighteen years of support. Of relevance. Of security. And maybe, eventually, he would come around. Maybe he’d want to be involved. Maybe he’d fall in love with the baby. With me.

Maybe everything would finally fall into place.

But now—

Now everything was ruined.

“You lied to me!” I shrieked into the phone. “You ruined everything!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Apple, I—”

“You will pay for this!” I hung up before she could respond.

My hands were shaking so badly I had to sit down. The room tilted, my throat burning, my eyes stinging, but I refused to cry. Crying was weakness. Crying was defeat.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I pressed my palms to my temples, forcing myself to breathe, to think, to make sense of it.

This wasn’t my fault.

Someone else had messed up.

Someone else had sabotaged me.

Someone else had ruined everything.

Ashley.

The name settled in my mind like a certainty. It had to be her. It is always her. She must have interfered. Tampered with the test. Twisted something behind the scenes.

There was no other explanation.

My breathing quickened as the thought took hold, solid and unshakable. My hands curled into fists.

I wouldn’t let her get away with it.

I knew where she lived. One of my followers had tracked her weeks ago, sent me photos of her slipping in and out of that house with her ridiculous bandaged nose. Proof she wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought.

I grabbed my keys and stormed out.

The drive was a blur of red lights and clenched teeth. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached. The city passed around me in streaks of gray and glass, meaningless and distant.

She had done this. She will pay for this.

By the time I pulled onto her street, I was vibrating with rage. I marched straight to her door and pounded on it hard enough to sting my palm.