Chapter4

His jaw tightened. For a second, I thought he would push it. Instead, he helped Chloe to her feet like she might shatter. "You have until morning to figure out how you're going to say sorry."

Then, to her, gently: "Put some ice on that. Mike's out front if you need anything."

He left. Chloe smirked at me over her shoulder and went upstairs to the guest room. My mother's room.

That night, I started noticing things. My jewelry box sat half an inch off its usual spot. A drawer I always kept shut was open a crack. My journal lay face down when I'd left it face up.

I'd told Damien last week that someone had been going through my things. He'd told me I was being paranoid.

I wasn't paranoid. I was outnumbered.

So I ordered a tiny camera, the kind parents hide in bookshelves to keep an eye on the nanny. Same-day delivery. By midnight, it was tucked between two hardcovers on the top shelf of my bedroom, one red light no bigger than a pinhead.

I locked Mom's urn in my nightstand drawer and lay down facing the shelf.

If Chloe wanted to show me who she really was, I'd let her.

In the middle of the night, my bedroom door slammed open.

Two of Damien's security guys came in first. Chloe strolled in behind them, her cheek still pink. "My face still hurts. And you get to sleep like a baby?"

She snapped her fingers, and the guards hauled me out of bed by my arms.

That's when I saw what she was holding. My mother's urn. The nightstand drawer hung open behind her, the lock pried apart.

My heart stopped. "Put that down."

"This?" Chloe strolled to the window and shoved it open. Cold wind poured into the room. She held the urn out over the dark yard and smiled at me. "Say bye-bye to your mama, Wren."

She tipped it upside down.

The wind took everything. A soft gray cloud, there and gone, scattered across the wet grass and the street beyond it.

My mother was gone. Again.

I launched myself at her. The guards caught me.

"Let go!" I thrashed against them. "I'm Damien's fiancée! Let me go!"

One of them hesitated.

"Sure," Chloe said breezily. "But I'm the one Damien actually cares about."

One sentence, and the doubt vanished from his face. They yanked my arms behind my back and shoved me down onto my knees.

Chloe crouched in front of me, close enough that I could smell the perfume Damien had bought her. She tapped the empty urn against my cheek.

"Your mom should've raised you better. You chased him around campus for three years. Threw yourself at him until he finally gave you a ring. And look at you now. On your knees for me. A dog has more pride."

I didn't answer. I didn't cry. Not in front of her.

She laughed, tossed the empty urn onto my bed, and walked out. The guards let go of me and followed her.

I stayed on the floor for a long time.

Then I crawled to the open window and cupped what was left on the sill in my bare hands. A few gray flakes and a little dust. Everything I had left of her.

When I finally lifted my head, I looked up at the bookshelf.

The tiny red light was still on.

She thought no one was watching.

Every second of it was on camera.