Page 35

Nic

“I would literally kill to wake up to this view.”

Bea sighs dramatically, swiping to another photo on my phone. She’s sprawled upside down on the couch, legs dangling over the back, purple-streaked blonde hair dusting the floor.

“All those snow-capped peaks and . . . wait a sec. Is that an infinity pool?”

"Mm-hmm.” I try to focus on sorting through the mountain of mail in front of me, but Bea's delighted gasps keep pulling me back in.

“Where is this Gstaad place, anyway? How do you even say that?” Bea squints at my phone, pinching the screen to zoom in.

“G-shtaad,” I murmur absently, trying—and failing—not to let my mind slip back into thinking about him. “It's a small town in Bern.”

The trip was exactly what I needed. A reset. A chance to get away from expectations and judgment. Kai stripped it all away, forcing me to confront a simple, undeniable truth: I like him.

And his family and friends? I love them.

And now, here I am—back to reality, sorting through bills, schedules, responsibilities. And to the realization that for the first time in as long as I can remember, Cass wasn’t clawing at the back of my mind, demanding to be remembered.

Not once did I think of her in Gstaad. While I was becoming Kai's girlfriend.

Being insanely happy.

My stomach twists with guilt.

"Nic?” Bea sits up, hair wild from the couch.

"Hmm."

“What is Kai’s deal? By the way, Kai sounds way cooler than Chase. So,” she continues, “is that like,a thing with billionaires? A girl gets pissy, and their solution is to drag her to parts unknown?”

“First, he’s not a billionaire,” I roll my eyes but can’t fight my smile. “And I wasn’t pissy.”

“Please, Nic,” She rolls her eyes at my disapproving look. "You’ve been a literal crab all week.” Bea deepens her voice into a mock baritone. “‘Hey, Nic. Have a slice of heaven and stop whining.’”

I laugh at her gruff Kai impression, shaking my head as I shuffle through the stack of envelopes. “He’s not like that.”

Bea snorts, then flips the phone toward me. “He’s not? Then explain this.”

It’s a candid shot that was taken that morning in Vera Hen-Su’s kitchen.

I’m laughing at something off-camera, my eyes crinkled with amusement. But Kai? He isn’t looking at the lens.

His brows are furrowed, his focus locked onto me.

That unguarded expression—the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing, takes my breath away.

“Forget all the views,” Bea whispers. “This here is pure gold.”

“Give me that!” I lunge for the phone, but she jerks it away, giggling.

“Oh no, you don’t.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You’ve set a standard here, Nic. If he isn’t super bossy, doesn’t look at me like this, or drags me kicking and screaming on mood-resetting vacations, I don’t fucking want him!”

I chuckle. “That’s not all there is to a relationship.”

“No,” she smirks, “but it’s a good start.”

She keeps scrolling, and I can't say anything, because damn it, she’s right. It is a start.

My fingers pause on a heavy, cream-colored envelope.

The handwriting makes something flutter in my chest.

Bold, decisive strokes—elegant, but impatient. So perfectly Kai.

But it’s addressed to my dad.

A strange mix of anticipation and unease coils in my stomach as I slide a finger under the seal, peeling it open carefully. A glossy brochure slips into my palm, its embossed letters catching the morning light:

Omni Medicals – Beverly Hills Private Practice.

My gaze drifts to the name in bold type:

Dr. Stallone – Chief of Neurosurgery. Pioneer in Deep Brain Stimulation for Parkinson’s Disease.

There’s a small note paper-clipped to the corner in Kai’s distinctive hand:

He’s the best, sir. Please call his office anytime this week—I’ve told him to expect you.

The letters blur as tears sting my eyes.

All these years of watching my dad’s hands tremble, the meds barely helping, the helplessness that gnawed at me every time I saw him struggling to do something as simple as hold a coffee mug without spilling it.

And now this.

A way out. A chance.

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat won’t budge.

“Earth to Nic!”

Bea’s voice snaps me back, and I blink rapidly, forcing back the moisture threatening to spill over.

She sits up, frowning as she notices the brochure in my hand. Sliding off the couch, she peers over my shoulder. “Is that for Dad?”

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice tight.

Bea makes a grab for it. “Hey, let me see—spill!”

I tuck it against my chest, protective of this moment. “It’s . . . just a referral. Some kind of treatment.”

Brain surgery.

The words hover at the edge of my tongue, too big to say out loud.

Bea crosses her arms, suspicious. “Let me guess.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “This was arranged by hot Professor Grump?”

I force a smile, but it wavers. I suddenly want to be alone.

No. What I really want is Kai.

I need him to hold me while I ugly cry into his neck.

Before I can dwell on it, my phone buzzes, Barry’s name flashing across the screen.

I grab it out of Bea’s hand, along with the brochure and the last unopened package, and escape to my room.

I swipe to connect the call. “Hey?” I say, suddenly conscious of the last words we hurled at each other.

“I’ll cut the crap,” he begins. “I said some pretty horrid things—”

“You were an asshole, Barry.”

“You’re right.” He sighs. “And an idiot. And so desperate to kick some sense into you that I totally forgot that harsh words only make you shut down and dig in your heels.”

Because I was bred on them.

“I get it.” I exhale, flopping onto my bed. “Honestly? Thinking back now, I kind of want to kick my own ass too.”

Silence. Then—

“And did a certain professor’s head and squirt game have anything to do with this sudden clarity of mind?”

I snort out a laugh. “You’re disgusting, Barry, you know that?”

Silence. Then—

“You lucky bitch. Three days of angry, toe-curling, make-up sex. I need details. Immediately.”

I laugh, rolling onto my stomach. “My lips are sealed.”

He groans. “At least tell me where you stashed him.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play with me, girl.” His voice drops, accusatory. “He canceled all his lectures and went AWOL to cater to you.”

“I promise he’s alive.” I smile at the ceiling, the tension from earlier easing just a little.

“And probably recuperating after you’ve finished gorging on him.” He hums. “Tell me he’s cured you of any lingering Aldridge creepiness, or I’m fucking hanging up.”

I don’t hesitate. “It’s over. I’m seeing Kai now.”

Saying it out loud feels good. Right.

Barry whoops so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

Then his voice turns serious. “Which reminds me, he left us with a metric ton of assignments. My brain isn’t booting up, but that’s what you’re there for, right? Hook a bestie up with that cheat sheet will you?”

I freeze. “What do you mean, assignments?”

Barry gasps. “You didn’t know?”

“No. What assignments?”

“Oh, honey.” Barry’s cackling fills my ear. “Turns out running off with the good professor didn’t get you a free pass. Three case studies, a market analysis, and that presentation on emerging trends. All due Wednesday.”

I sit up so fast my head spins. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Barry snickers. “Nope. Seems your Zaddy’s making you work for those grades. Burning the candle at both ends—literally.”

“Jackass,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it, because this is so Kai—keeping the boundaries, breaking every other rule under the sun.

A warmth spreads through my chest, even as I mentally calculate how many all-nighters I’ll need to pull this off.

I grab my laptop, wake it, and start scrolling through the college website.

Then—

A flashing notification catches my eye.

My dark web account.

Dread tightens my stomach as I hover the cursor over the message, my stomach tightening with dread.

“Nic? You still there?” Barry’s voice is faint, barely registering.

“Yeah, I—I should probably start on those assignments.”

“Ugh, fine. Abandon me. But we’re getting drinks soon—I need every dirty detail about wherever you’ve been holed up.”

“Sure,” I mumble, distracted.

Barry hangs up, but my attention is locked on the screen. My hand trembles as I click the notification. The message loads:

Then I freeze, my stomach plummeting as I stare at the screen.

The message is simple and short, but it destroys me.

Anon 419:

I get it. You don’t want the candies anymore. I still want my money, though. And the price just doubled.

Pay up, dollface, ’cause I know where you live.

Attached is a photo of my house.

Bea is in the frame—mid-stride, backpack slung over one shoulder, her phone pressed to her ear.

My pulse thunders against my ribs.

This isn’t some faceless creep hiding behind a screen. This isn’t some harmless game.

This is real.

My breath shudders out, a cold sweat breaking across my skin. I slam the laptop shut, yank the power cord, and fumble to disconnect the Wi-Fi as if that would somehow erase what I just saw. Like it could undo a year of trawling the dark web and stealing glimpses of Kai. But the message is there, burned into my retinas.

I know where you live.

I did this. I should pay up and make it go away before it spreads to touch everyone I love. Bea. Dad. Kai. Lana and her twins. But paying off Anon 419 is only going to make him raise the price again. How long will he keep me on the hook? Threaten me—I gulp. My gaze shifts to the last package, the one I'd been saving, hoping it was from Kai.

It sits beside me, wrapped in glossy brown paper—identical to the first one. The one with the feather. My excitement turns to dread, because suddenly I know it's Anon 419 who's been sending the death mail.

I don’t want to open it. But my fingers move on their own, pulling at the strings, my pulse a ragged mess.

I lift the lid.

At first, I think it’s empty. Then—I see it.

A single black feather, tipped in red ink. A card tucked beside it. One word, printed in bold, followed by cursive.

DEAD . . . is what you are.

A violent shudder racks through me.

No. No, no, no. My hands tremble as I grab the feather, my nails digging into my palms so hard it stings.

Anon419 wouldn’t just disappear. He's going to bleed me dry and run me into the grave

The irony is sick. I hunted him for years. And now? I’m the hunted one.

I invited this in. Every stupid, reckless decision led me here. And worst of all?

I’ve tainted what I have with Kai. Because I need him to get me out of this. I'm going to have to confess this. What I've done, my connection to Cass . . .

And it kills me to know how much this will gut him. He'll never believe my feelings were real. Never believe I wasn’t just some obsessive freak playing out a sick fantasy.

His touch, his trust, the way his eyes light up when he sees me—like he knows me better than anyone ever has.

The acid in my stomach churns, and I lose my nerve.

But the alternative is unthinkable. Anon 419 could really hurt my family. Or me.

It’s time to end this.

I take the gray metal box and stuff every twisted remnant of my obsession inside a cardboard shoe box. I have to burn it all.

My hands shake, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Nic?” Bea’s voice carries from the hallway. “You okay in there?”

Quickly, I open my drawer and pour the contents of the shoebox in it, whirling around and leaning against it as Bea comes to me.

“Are you okay?” she asks

“I’m fine.” The lie tastes bitter. Nothing about this is fine.

I just need to go. I grab my keys, lock the drawer, then brush past her.

“Where are you going?” Bea asks, her eyes narrowing with that too-sharp perception.

“Nothing. I just . . .” I trail off, my voice faltering.

I need to tell him. Need to confess before he hurts Bea.

“I forgot something at Kai’s,” I manage, reaching for my coat and shoving my feet into my uggs.

She crosses her arms, her frown deepening. “You look . . . scared, Nic. Like you've seen a ghost.”

I have. Only this time, the ghost is me.

“I just need to—” I trail off, my voice faltering. I don’t even know how to finish the sentence.

What am I supposed to say?

That I’ve spent years stalking Kai like some obsessive freak? That I was ready to lie to his face and keep it all buried?

That someone out there knows my secrets—and is using them against me?

Somehow I have to find a way to say it.

Bea follows me down the hall. “Nic—are you going to break up with him?”

“No.”

But he’ll probably break up with me. Because if the roles were reversed, if I found out Kai had been watching me for years, stealing my photos, digging into my past—

I would kick myself out. Look at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m disgusting.

She reaches for her phone, scrolling fast. “Wait—did you see something online?”

With the sex tape and my name flooding the Valencia grapevine, it’s not impossible that some new scandal has surfaced.

I push past her and step outside. The cold air bites at my skin, but it doesn’t register.

“I’m good. Tell Dad I’ll be back soon.” I don’t imagine this will take long. He won’t want to see me again. But I know Kai. He’ll protect my family. He might even protect me.

I need to come clean before it’s too late.