Don't Hurt Me Again

"One order of escargot to go, please. Heavy on the garlic butter," I said, leaning against the polished mahogany counter of Le Bistro.

The hostess smiled, though her eyes held a flicker of pity. "Of course, Miss Miller. For your brother?"

"It was his favorite," I replied, my voice tighter than I intended. "Seven years today."

"I remember. We’ll have it ready in ten minutes."

I stepped back, the scent of expensive wine and roasted herbs normally comforting, but today it felt like lead in my stomach. Jackson should have been here. We should have been arguing over who got the last piece of bread to soak up the sauce. Instead, I was picking up a ghost’s dinner.

I wandered toward the back of the restaurant, seeking the restroom to splash some cold water on my face. As I passed the private VIP suites, a familiar laugh cut through the muffled jazz music.

It was Gage.

I stopped. My heart did a strange, erratic dance. He told me he was stuck in board meetings all day. He said he couldn't make it to the cemetery with me because the Brown family’s latest merger was "on the knife’s edge."

"To freedom," Gage’s voice rang out, followed by the clink of crystal.

"Freedom?" a man asked. I recognized the voice—it was Julian, one of Gage’s oldest friends. "You’re getting married in three months, Gage. That’s the opposite of freedom."

"Am I?" Gage replied. His tone was breezy, stripped of the warmth he usually reserved for me. "Do you actually think I’m going to put a gold band on the finger of a mistress’s daughter in front of a priest?"

I froze. The hallway seemed to shrink, the air turning thin and icy.

"Wait," Julian chuckled. "The engagement is still on the books. Your parents would kill you. She’s the 'Sister of the Savior,' remember? The girl who lost everything for the great Gage Brown."

"A debt," Gage snapped, his voice sharpening. "That’s all this is. A seven-year debt that I’ve paid in full by humoring her. Mia is a bore. She’s used her brother’s death to morally kidnap me since we were twenty. It’s exhausting."

I reached out, my fingers grazing the wallpaper to keep from collapsing. My legs felt like they were made of water.

"So, what happens when you marry the daughter of the Mayor next year?" Julian asked. "What happens to poor, sweet Mia?"

"The same thing that happens to all women of her... background," Gage said. I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "I’ll buy her that villa in the suburbs she’s always looking at. I’ll keep her there. She can be my little secret on the side. She’s already used to waiting for me. She’ll stay exactly where I put her."

"You’re a cold bastard, Gage," Julian laughed.

"I’m a realist. A mistress’s daughter should be happy to stay a mistress. It’s in her blood, isn't it?"

My vision blurred. A sharp, stinging heat rushed to my eyes. Mistress's daughter. He knew how much that slur hurt me. He knew how hard my mother had worked to distance us from my father’s other family. He knew, and he was using it as a reason to discard me.

I turned to run, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. My hip clipped a pedestal in the hallway.

*Crash.*

The ceramic vase shattered against the hardwood, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the narrow space.

"Who’s out there?" Gage’s voice demanded, suddenly alert.

"Oh, miss! Are you alright?" A waiter appeared from the kitchen, rushing to my side. He grabbed my elbow to steady me. "Did you cut yourself?"

"I'm fine," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I have to go."

"Miss Miller, your order—"

I didn't wait. I shoved past the waiter and bolted for the exit. Behind me, I heard the heavy door of the VIP suite swing open.

"Mia?" Gage’s voice called out, sounding uncertain. "Mia, is that you?"

I didn't look back. I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the restaurant and burst into the humid afternoon air. I ran until my lungs burned, until the sound of my own frantic footsteps drowned out the echoes of his betrayal. I didn't stop until I reached my car, fumbling with the keys with shaking hands.

The drive to the cemetery was a blur of tears and red lights. My mind was a chaotic loop of that night seven years ago.

I had been the one who heard the rumors. I was the one who hid behind the gym and heard the seniors talking about how they were going to "teach the Brown heir a lesson" for his arrogance. I had been so young, so terrified for the boy I loved.

I had run home, sobbing, begging Jackson to help.

"Jackson, please! They’re going to hurt him. They have weapons. Please go save him!"

Jackson had sighed, wiped my tears, and grabbed his jacket. "Stay here, Mia. I’ll bring him back."

He brought Gage back. But Jackson came back in a black bag. One bullet to the chest while shielding the boy I thought was my soulmate.

I pulled the car to a stop at the edge of the memorial park. The rain had started to fall, a grey drizzle that matched the hollow feeling in my chest. I grabbed the bag of escargot—now Luke-warm and smelling of broken promises—and walked toward the familiar headstone.

*Jackson Miller. Beloved Brother. A Hero in Every Sense.*

I sank to my knees on the damp grass, placing the container on the flat stone.

"I brought your favorite," I whispered, my voice lost in the wind.

I stared at the name carved in granite. For seven years, this grave had been my North Star. The Brown family had "taken care" of me. They had given me a diamond ring and a seat at their table as a thank you for Jackson’s life. I had thought it was love. I had convinced myself that Gage looked at me with devotion, not obligation.

"I’m so sorry, Jackson," I sobbed, leaning my forehead against the cold stone. "You gave everything. You gave your whole life so I could have the future I wanted."

I closed my eyes, feeling the rain soak through my coat.

"You died to give me this position. You died so I could be his wife. And I failed you. I didn't do it well enough to make him love me. I didn't do it well enough to make him respect us."

Gage’s words played back in my head, each one a jagged shard of glass. *Morally kidnapped. A bore. A mistress’s daughter.*

I had spent seven years trying to be perfect. I had dressed the way he liked, attended the charities his mother chose, and kept my mouth shut when his friends made jokes I didn't like. I had been the perfect grieving sister and the perfect loyal fiancée.

And to him, I was just a debt that had finally come due.

"He never loved me, Jackson," I choked out, clutching the edge of the headstone until my knuckles turned white. "He was just waiting for the clock to run out."

I looked down at the large, pear-shaped diamond on my left hand. It caught the dull light of the overcast sky, sparking with a mockery of beauty. It wasn't a symbol of love. It was a golden leash.

I thought about the villa in the suburbs. I thought about a life spent in the shadows, waiting for Gage to tire of his "real" wife and come to me for a few hours of stolen time.

"He thinks I'll stay," I whispered to the grave. "He thinks I have nowhere else to go. He thinks he owns me because of what you did."

A cold resolve began to settle over me, sharper than the rain.

I reached for the ring, my fingers steady now. I pulled it off, the band sliding easily over my skin. I placed the diamond on top of the escargot container, right next to my brother’s name.

"I'm done being his debt, Jackson. I'm done being his secret."

I stood up, my legs no longer shaking. I wiped the wet hair from my face and looked toward the gates of the cemetery. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Gage.

*Gage: Hey babe, meetings ran late. I’m so sorry I missed the cemetery. I’ll make it up to you tonight. Dinner at our spot?*