Back in the sun-drenched memory, Christ hadn't pulled away immediately. He had stared at her, his thumb brushing the pulse point on her neck, his expression shifting from anger to something like curiosity.

Then, he flicked her forehead. It was a sharp, stinging sensation that broke the trance.

"Since you saved me," Christ said, a crooked, arrogant smile replacing the glare, "I suppose I owe you. Like in the fairy tales. Three wishes?"

Emely rubbed her forehead, scowling. "I don't want your wishes. I just want you to stop acting like a jerk."

Christ's smile faltered. For a second, the mask slipped, revealing a cavern of darkness behind those blue eyes. "Maybe I wanted to sink, Emely. Did you ever think of that?"

The air between them grew heavy. Emely didn't know what to say to that. The darkness in a twelve-year-old boy shouldn't run that deep.

Christ seemed to realize he'd shown too much. He reached into the pocket of his swim trunks and pulled out a ring. It was heavy, made of black obsidian, with a silver crest inlaid on the face. He tossed it into her half-empty cup of lemonade.

"A down payment," he said lightly. "If you're ever desperate. If you have nowhere else to go. Bring that to me. I'll grant your wish."

"I don't want it," Emely said, her face heating up. She felt like he was mocking her. She grabbed the cup, intending to fish the ring out and throw it back at him, but her hand slipped.

She spun around to run, eager to put distance between herself and his confusing intensity, and slammed straight into a wall.

Not a wall. A person.

The temperature in the pool area seemed to drop twenty degrees in a single second. Emely gasped, looking up.

Standing there was an older boy. Maybe sixteen. He wore a long black trench coat despite the ninety-degree heat. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes... his eyes were voids. No light reflected in them.

Brooks Collins. Christ's older brother.

He looked down at her with zero emotion. It wasn't hatred; it was the indifference of a boot regarding an ant.

Emely froze, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The cup fell from her hand, lemonade splashing onto the concrete. The black ring clattered, spinning noisily before settling near Brooks's boot.

Brooks looked at the ring. His pupils contracted.

"Don't touch her, Brooks," Christ's voice came from behind Emely. It wasn't the voice of a child anymore. It was a command. "She's mine. She saved me."

Brooks slowly lifted his gaze from the ring to Emely's face. He didn't speak. He just inhaled deeply, as if smelling the fear radiating off her. A strange, metallic scent mixed with something like sulfur drifted from him, overpowering the chlorine.

He stepped around her, his coat brushing her arm. The fabric felt like ice.

Emely shivered violently. Christ walked past her, picked up the ring, and pressed it firmly into her palm. His fingers were warm now, a stark contrast to his brother.

"Stay away from him, little fool," Christ whispered near her ear. "He eats things like you."

The memory dissolved, leaving Emely shivering in her damp, cramped apartment. The alley, Yvonne, the impossible task-it had all been too much. After stumbling away from The Sapphire Club, the sodden envelope slipping from her numb fingers and washing away into the gutter, she had somehow made it onto the subway and back to her building, collapsing into a fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep.

She woke up with a gasp, sitting bolt upright on her lumpy mattress. Her hand was clenched so tight her knuckles were white. When she opened her fingers, the black obsidian ring sat there, dull and heavy.

She had kept it. Through the bankruptcy, through the move to this rat-infested apartment, through the weight gain that made her unrecognizable.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Cohen!" The landlord's voice boomed through the thin wood of the door. "Rent! I know you're in there! You have until tomorrow or I'm changing the locks!"

Emely curled in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest. The rolls of her stomach pressed against her thighs, a suffocating reminder of her body's betrayal. She looked at the ring. It was cold against her skin.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached for it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name.

Kody.

Her fiancé. The only good thing left in her life.

She opened the message.

We need to talk. Come to my office. Now.

There was no heart emoji. No 'love you'. Just a command. Emely felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine, colder than the rain, colder than Brooks Collins's shadow.

The subway ride to Wright Enterprises was a gauntlet of humiliation. Emely squeezed into a corner seat, trying to make herself small, but her hips spilled over the designated space. The woman next to her sighed loudly, shifting her body away with an exaggerated grimace, pressing a designer bag between them as a barrier.

Emely kept her eyes on the small TV screen mounted in the corner of the car. The news was playing a loop of the explosion at the Cohen Pharmaceutical plant. Smoke billowing, sirens wailing.

"Arthur Cohen faces potential criminal charges," the anchor announced. "Negligence leading to mass chemical exposure."

Emely closed her eyes. Her father. A criminal.

When she arrived at the Wright building, the receptionist-a girl Emely had once tipped a hundred dollars for Christmas-didn't smile.

"ID, please," she said, popping her gum.

"It's me, Sarah. Emely."

"Policy changed. ID."

Emely handed it over, her face burning. After a ten-minute wait where she could hear the whispers of employees behind the glass partition, Liam, Kody's assistant, came out. He didn't offer a handshake. He just gestured for her to follow.

Kody was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. He didn't stand up. He didn't look up from his computer until Liam closed the door.

Emely tried to smile. She walked toward him, instinctively reaching out. "Kody, I got your text. Is everything okay?"

Kody held up a hand. "Sit there, Emely." He pointed to the leather chair opposite the desk. The distance between them felt like an ocean.

He slid a single sheet of paper across the polished wood. "Sign this."

Emely looked at the document. The words swam before her eyes. Termination of Engagement.

"You want to... postpone the wedding?" Her voice was small, pathetic.

Kody sighed, running a hand through his gelled hair. "Cancel. It's over."

"Why?" The word cracked. "Because of the factory? Kody, we've been together for ten years. Since high school."

Kody stood up then, walking to the window to look out at the city skyline. "The Cohen name is poison, Emely. My investors are getting nervous. I can't have Wright Enterprises dragged down by your father's incompetence."

"It was an accident!" Emely gripped the arms of the chair.

Kody turned around. His eyes were cold, assessing. He looked at her not as a woman he loved, but as a liability. His gaze traveled down her body, lingering on her midsection, her thick thighs.

"Besides," he said, his voice dropping to a cruel murmur. "Look at you. Do you really think you fit the image of a CEO's wife anymore? You're an embarrassment."

The air left the room. Emely felt like she'd been slapped. "You said you didn't care about the weight. You said it was just stress."

"That was before you doubled in size." Kody pulled a wet wipe from a dispenser on his desk and wiped his hands, as if just breathing the same air as her had made him dirty. "You disgust me, Emely."

The office door swung open. A petite blonde woman with a waist the size of Emely's neck poked her head in.

"Honey, did you want the salmon or the steak for lunch?" Her voice was syrup.

Kody's face transformed instantly. The cruelty vanished, replaced by a warm, doting smile. "Steak, Annie. Rare."

Emely recognized her. Annie Wells. His new secretary. Hired two months ago.

Annie looked at Emely, her blue eyes widening in mock surprise. "Oh! Is this the delivery lady? Did she bring the dry cleaning?"

Kody didn't correct her. He just looked at Emely with flat, dead eyes. "Sign the paper and get out."

Emely stood up. Her legs were shaking so hard she thought she might collapse. She didn't sign. She grabbed the paper, crumpled it in her fist, and turned around.

"You're a coward, Kody," she whispered.

She walked out, passing Annie, who was smirking. As the elevator doors closed, Emely saw Kody walk over to Annie and wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Emely didn't leave the premises. She couldn't. Her legs gave out in the lobby, and she sat on a bench near the revolving doors, gasping for air. The security guard watched her suspiciously, hand hovering near his radio.

Twenty minutes later, Kody and Annie walked out. They were laughing.

Emely saw them head toward the curb where the valet had just pulled up a silver Porsche 911.

Her Porsche. The one she had bought for Kody's thirtieth birthday.

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through her veins, overriding the shame. Emely pushed herself up and ran out the doors.

"Hey!" she screamed.

Kody froze, his hand on the car door. He looked around, annoyed, until he saw her barrelling toward him.

"That's my car!" Emely yelled, stepping in front of the vehicle. "Give me the keys!"

Passersby stopped. Phones came out. The cameras were like little black eyes, recording her breakdown.

"You're making a scene," Kody hissed, stepping toward her. "Go home."

"I bought this car!" Emely slammed her hand on the hood. "It's in my name!"

"Wrong," Kody sneered. "You put it in the company's name for tax purposes. Remember? It belongs to Wright Enterprises. Which means it belongs to me."

Emely stared at him, the realization crashing down on her. He had planned this. He had been planning this for years. Every asset, every gift, every shared account-he had slowly, methodically moved them out of her reach.

"You thief," she spat.

Annie stepped out from behind Kody, looking terrified in a very performative way. She placed a hand on her flat stomach. "Kody, please. The baby."

The world stopped spinning.

Emely looked at Annie's hand. "Baby?"

Kody stiffened. He stepped in front of Annie, shielding her. "Don't look at her."

"We broke up twenty minutes ago," Emely said, her voice sounding hollow, like it was coming from someone else. "How can there be a baby?"

Kody adjusted his tie, regaining his composure. "We've been together for six months, Emely. Everyone knew. Except you."

Six months. While Emely was visiting her father in legal depositions. While she was stress-eating in the dark. While she was planning their wedding.

Emely started to laugh. It was a jagged, ugly sound that tore at her throat. Tears streamed down her face, hot and humiliating.

She reached up and unclasped the thin gold chain around her neck. The engagement necklace. A tiny diamond chip that looked pathetic now.

"Here," she said. She threw it. It hit Kody in the chest and bounced off, landing in a puddle of gutter water. "Keep your trash."

Kody looked at the necklace in the mud, then back at her. He didn't pick it up. He just smirked, opened the car door for Annie, and got in the driver's seat.

The engine roared. The Porsche peeled away, the tires spraying dirty water all over Emely's legs.

She stood there, dripping, alone in the middle of the busy street. The crowd dispersed, bored now that the show was over.

Emely's phone rang in her pocket. It was the special ringtone she had set for her father.

She wiped her face with a shaking hand and answered.

"Dad?"

"Emely?" It wasn't her father. It was her mother, Martha. And she was screaming. "Get to St. Jude's. Now. It's his heart."