Page 156 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Good.

He deserves some.

“You don’t get to tell me what this is,” I say.

His mouth flattens. “I came here to talk.”

“You should’ve stayed home.”

“You think that’s what I wanted?” he fires back. “You think I enjoyed any part of the last few years?”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“I’m serious.”

“And that’s supposed to matter to me?”

Dylan takes a step closer. Gabe shifts, preparing for impact.

Smart man.

“You never let me explain,” Dylan says.

“Explain what?”

His eyes flash. “What actually happened.”

I feel my pulse hammer behind my eyes.

“What happened,” I say carefully, “is you slept with my fiancée.”

Dylan’s face tightens. “It wasn’t like that.”

I almost hit him then, because of the audacity. The sheer unbelievable audacity of standing in my house and trying to reshape memory into something softer than it was.

“It was exactly like that,” I say.

“No.”

“She was wearing my ring.”

“That relationship was dead before I touched it, and you know it.”

The sentence lands cleaner than a punch. For one horrible second, nobody moves, because that’s the part nobody ever says out loud.

The ugly truth underneath the betrayal.

He’s not entirely wrong.

I had already started disappearing by then. Josiah died and everything in my life went gray afterward. I stopped sleeping. Stopped talking unless I had to. Stopped being someone anybody could reach.

But that doesn’t make what he did survivable. It just makes it sadder.

“You think that excuses it?” I ask.

“No,” Dylan says. “I think pretending you were happy before everything blew up is bullshit.”

My vision narrows.