Page 364 of Mad Girl

“Yes.”

“How many times did I ask if you’d been with him?” you demanded. “How many times did you deny it?”

“A lot.”

“Bree was right,” you said as you looked me up and down, like you were truly seeing me for the first time. “You really are a liar, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You moved toward me now. “All that talk about honesty, about how much it hurt when your dad lied or withheld information about your mum. And the whole time, you were lying, too. Lying to me.”

“I know. But with Michael, it wasn’t—what you and I have⁠—”

“Don’t,” you said, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t even try to compare us. You let me believe I had you in ways he never did.”

“You did, Casey. I was a virgin with you⁠—”

“And if I hadn’t seen proof of that with my own eyes, I’d think you were lying to me again.” You laughed. Dragged a hand through your hair. Shook your head. “I knew something was off. I felt it every time he looked at you. Every time he got jealous. Every time he touched you like you already belonged to him. Every time you dragged your thumb down his fucking lip.” You pulled a face, disgusted. “And you made me feel crazy for it.”

“I wasn’t trying to⁠—”

“Fool me?” you cut in, gaze flashing sharply enough to cut. “What would you call it, then? Letting me pursue a relationship with you after you’d already been with my brother? No wonder he hates me.”

I opened my mouth to speak.

“No,” you said, voice breaking now, fury and pain blurring. “Don’t say anything else.”

You turned for the door, then slowly turned back, shoulders tight.

“Did you tell him you loved him?”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Yes,” I whispered. “But I wasn’t in love with him, and he knew that. It was different. The way I love him is different.”

You turned away, the devastation—somehow deeper than before—dragging down your shoulders. I hadn’t given Michael my body, but I’d given him something I’d never offered you: the truth.

You gave the smallest shake of your head before walking away from me.

I stared at the empty space, my breath coming in shallow bursts, face burning with shame. I blinked hard, hoping the sting in my eyes would pass, but it didn’t. The truth was out. You knew. And the way you’d looked at me—like you didn’t recognize me anymore—had already seared itself into my memory.

I stumbled out of the study, the music louder now, rap instead of classical, the crowd thicker. Everything blurred, too many bodies pressing close.

Then it hit me. I hadn’t told you the truth that mattered most: Michael knows your secret.

Rage festered, spreading through my veins, burning hot in my chest. I turned in a slow circle, searching the crowd.

She was still there. I could feel it.

Up ahead, near the front door, I caught a flash of bright red. That bitch’s trademark color always gave her away. I pushed my way through the throng of people—through the stench of red wine and the smog of cologne—until they spit me out, back into the chilly night air. And there she was, standing on the sidewalk, still clutching her phone.

“Sienna!”

She twisted to face me, red lips curled into a wicked smirk.

I took a few steps toward her. “I told you not to mess with me.”

Sienna laughed. “Please. We both know you won’t do shit in front of all these people.”