Do these women know me at all?
“Oh, I got proof. The second he dropped me off, I booked it to a clinic and got a tox screen.Benzodiazepine. Date-rape drug.”
The table detonates.
“What the fuck?”
“He drugged you. That’s not a misunderstanding. It’s a felony.”
“Shit like that can stop your heart.”
“Believe me, I know. Everything y’all are saying is true.”
Marissa’s eyes are bright with shock. “How are you so calm right now?”
“I’ve had time to absorb this. You’re still in the shock phase.” I take a drink of whiskey. “Of course you’re outraged. As you should be.”
The whole thing is just fucking outrageous. But me? I’ve burned through the initial rage. What’s left now is sharper, the kind of calm that cuts.
Marissa reaches across the table, her fingers closing around mine. “Seriously, are you okay? Physically? Mentally? What did the doctors say?”
“I’m fine. No lasting damage.” I pause, something heavy pressing behind my ribs. “Except for the trust. That’s gone, burned to ash and scattered.”
Their expressions shift—sympathy and fury, braided together.
“Please tell me you’re done with him,” Eden says.
That one’s easy. “Fuck yes.”
“Good,” Eden snaps. “That fucker doesn’t get a second chance.”
“Damn right,” Brielle adds. “You don’t come back from drugging your girlfriend and sneaking off to suck dick and get railed while she’s passed out in the next room.”
Marissa tilts her head. “Tell me you at least burned his shit.”
“Not yet.” I smirk. “Definitely thought about it, but I’d rather see some homeless guy strutting down Bourbon Street wearing his favorite hoodie.”
I stare into my empty glass, wishing it were still full.
“The strange part is… I haven’t cried. Not once.”
Eden scoffs. “That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a single tear.”
Crying has never been my thing. Not because I’m unshakable or made of stone. It’s something colder.
I never truly loved Jon David, not in the marrow-deep way. I loved the version I built in my head—the fantasy of who we could’ve been. I know that now.
And fantasies don’t deserve tears.
“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty. Looking back on it, every promise he made about that threesome—about it being forme—was bullshit. It was never about my pleasure. He had an agenda.”
Marissa’s brows draw together, lips tightening in disbelief. “You think he planned it all for himself?”
“Yeah.” My voice hardens. “I think he wanted a man. And I think he’d been wanting one for a long fucking time. But instead of owning that, instead of speaking it out loud, he used me. I was the shield. The bait. The cover story. Get me in the room, frame it aboutmypleasure, and then when something happened between him and the other guy, he could play innocent. Pretend it just happened in the moment.”
I exhale, cold and furious. “But it didn’tjust happen. It was the plan. The only plan. And when I didn’t play along, he drugged me to shut me down and get what he wanted.”
Eden shakes her head. “That’s beyond twisted. That’s strategy. And it almost worked.”
