Chapter 4

When Blair found me, I was sitting outside a small noodle shop in a rundown part of town, eating a cheap bowl of plain pasta.

She pulled up in a sports car, dressed in designer clothes, utterly out of place.

"Evie, what are you doing eating in a place like this?"

She placed her designer bag on the grimy table, glanced disdainfully at the faded, unidentifiable stool, and remained standing.

"Here's a million dollars. Take it, leave this city, and never show your face to Julian again."

I lowered my head and continued eating my noodles, ignoring her.

She didn't seem annoyed. Leaning slightly forward, she lowered her voice.

"Didn't ten years in prison teach you anything?"

"Look at yourself, so unkempt. What part of you could ever be worthy of him now?"

I put down my fork, lifting my eyes to her heavily made-up face.

I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, clumsily concealed by makeup.

Her blush couldn't hide her pale complexion.

She hadn't been doing well lately.

"Blair Jensen, why are you in such a rush? What are you so afraid of?"

Her face flickered.

"Afraid of you? Evie, look at yourself! Do you really think I'd be scared or jealous of some washed-up, bitter woman who spent ten years in prison?"

"Then what's with the money? In your mind, is Julian, the successful, famous man he is now, only worth a million dollars?"

Blair seemed to realize her slip. She clutched her bag tighter, forced a smile, and raised her voice.

"You're mistaken. I just knew you'd be struggling after your release and wanted to help! But since you brought it up, if a million isn't enough, how much will it take for you to leave us alone?"

Her fake concern made me sick to my stomach.

I stood up to leave, but she grabbed my jacket by the waist.

"Evie, Julian and I have a child who's already a teenager! Are you still refusing to let go? Do you insist on being a homewrecker?"

I yanked hard at my jacket, but she held on tight, refusing to let go.

In the struggle, my jacket was torn off, revealing a section of my forearm, marred by a hideous, twisted burn scar.

She stared at me, stunned. I quickly snatched my jacket back, accidentally sweeping her bag off the table.

Her phone slid out, and I saw it then: she'd clipped a camera onto it.

She was livestreaming.

"OMG! She has so many scars!"

"Must be from getting beaten in prison, serves her right!"

"Looks terrifying, not like beatings. Maybe she's self-harming? No wonder she's so obsessive!"

"Poor Blair, look what she's been driven to!"

The livestream comments were instantly flooded with malicious speculation.

I shut off the livestream, not wanting so many strangers peering into my life.

The moment the livestream ended, Blair's expression completely changed.

Replaced by pure hatred.

"Evie! How dare you show your face here again? You're a murderer! You tried to kill me ten years ago, and ten years later, you almost killed my son!"

"And now you're stalking my husband, harassing him, trying to destroy my family! If your parents knew how utterly despicable you are, they'd turn over in their graves!"

Her chest heaved violently, flecks of spit landing on my face.

"Why are you staring at me like that? Am I wrong?"