Page 38 of Little Liar

“No,” she replies.

My heart sinks, needles stabbing into my eyes.No to which part, Olivia?

Who else has she slept with? Why do I feel like I’m about to pass out?

You fuck him again, or anyone else, and I’ll kill them.

“I’m supposed to marry one of them,” she seethes, like she has any right to be mad at me. She should have told me these fucking dates were more than just going out for dinner together or watching a damn movie—if I knew Mom was arranging for her to fuck people to prove her loyalty, I would’ve put a stop to it.

Fuck. Even now, I want to go out there and trail our mom all over the house, but then that means I’d hit a woman, and as much as I can be a dickhead, I wouldn’t stoop so low.

This is Olivia’s life. She’s been raised this way by this fucking witch.

For what? To have her marry the wealthiest family to make sure ours stays out of debt? Dad doesn’t even know how much she’s driving them into being broke.

My sister looks terrified, so instead of getting even angrier, because I know it isn’t her fault, I go to her, slide her hair behind her ear, and kiss her lips before I grab my clothes and disappear out the window.

I balance across the ledge until I reach my balcony, drop my clothes, and lean against the brick wall. Lowering my head, I squeeze my eyes shut.

My body is confused. My heart even more.

I’m in fucking heaven because I have the taste of her on my mouth and my fingers, and I’ve never felt more alive—but I also have a twisting feeling in my gut.

Betrayal, it feels like.

I think.

It must be.

I can’t be Olivia’s first because someone else got to have her before me, and I don’t know if I’m angry, jealous, or if I’m slowly dying inside that she didn’t wait for me.

My phone dings with a new message. I hold the smoke in my mouth while I read it.

Dad:What the fuck happened to your bike?

He’s attached a picture of the handlebars hanging off—the wheel beveled. It wasn’t my fault. I had to get home to Olivia, and the gate was in the way. I’m unharmed, but I can’t say the same for my damn bike. I crash it all the time, so it’ll be another bill they cover since they refuse to let me get a job.

The only time he contacts me is to yell at me, or to express his disgust. It’s been gradually getting worse. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. I could have a broken fucking arm or a missing finger, and he’s more concerned about a damn motorbike.

His next message has me grinding my teeth and throwing my half-smoked cigarette away.

Dad: Get your ass down here right now.

Despite needing to have space, I shower and head downstairs, and for the fifth time, we arrange for a mechanic to come fix mybike while I sit in silence, trying to calculate when and where and who got to have Olivia first.

9

Malachi

Mom and Dad have far too many friends here—the pool is packed with cheerleaders, music is blaring, and the barbeque has a queue of people I’ve never met before in my life. Some of them haven’t even spoken a word to my parents.

It’s Mom’s birthday. I think she paid people to be here because there’s not a chance in fucking hell this many people tolerate that woman enough to celebrate her day of birth.

In a way, I used to worship Mom for saving me. I’m still thankful, which is probably why I put up with her shit. She raised me, put clothes on my back, gave me money whenever I needed it—birthdays and vacations were always extravagant, and she lets me do whatever I want. Unlike Olivia, who has extremely strict rules, even at the age of eighteen.

Going from having nothing to everything, I know I owe Mom a lot, but because of her, I lost someone who belonged to me from the moment we met in that airport.

She let my sister fuck someone else, and for what? To prove she’s got what it takes to marry into a wealthy family? Or so Mom could finally solidify how much control and influence she has on the life of a girl she raised since she was a kid?