CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DINAH'S POV

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DINAH'S POV


The nerve. Ethan thought that he could hurt me and live? Worst, hurt me with my own cousin? This will slowly turn out to be his worst regret. No one cheats on me.

I was ready to make his life a living hell and trust me, he will not know what happened to him.

When I decided to Post that story, every time my thumb tapped the screen, I was justified. Like power. Like the beginning of Ethan's downfall.

But now, sitting in my car outside, my shaking hands on the wheel, I just feel. empty.

The alerts will not stop. Messages pouring in from people I had not spoken to in months. High school acquaintances. Extended family. Strangers who were trying to connect the dots sent popcorn emojis. All of them waiting, salivating over the juicy rundown and asking questions they were not entitled to.

When I walked in and saw them, Ethan, wide-eyed and guilty, Liam, shirt mussed, lips parted in shock I don't even know what I felt at first. Was it heartbreak? Betrayal? Rage?

Or was it confirmation?

I knew.

I've always felt something was off between Ethan and I. But I'd assumed it was because of how we started. The way he'd pull away whenever I'd reach out to him, I just wrote it off.

Now I didn't want to believe that the man I was soon to marry loved someone else.

Worse. Loved a man, and that man was my cousin.

ETHAN'S POV

Just sitting here and crying myself silly wasn't solving a damn thing.

I scowled at the crumpled tissue in my hand, the merlot stains on the floor, the shards of shattered glass I'd refused to sweep. The room smelled of stale loneliness, remorse, and spilled wine. My eyes were burning, red-rimmed and raw with tears. My chest hurt, as though something vital had been hollowed out and left behind. None of this self-pity was getting me Liam back.

He was gone.

And Dinah… God, Dinah had set the whole world ablaze.

But I couldn't stay here, this wasn't my life. This was a disaster that I needed to get away from if I was ever going to stand a chance of rebuilding it. I needed to return home. I needed to breathe, to think, to mend what I could and salvage what I couldn't.

I dried my face on the back of my hand, had a long shuddering gasp, and stood up off the couch. My legs felt stiff, muscles locked from sitting bent for so long. Despite this, I moved from room to drawer.

The stillness at the resort was even more deafening than usual. The villa itself was spotless, but I found myself darting to the corner, ironing out sheets, and re-arranging pillows which didn't require re-arranging.

I followed the sanded-down surfaces as if saying goodbye to part of myself I no longer recognized.
Liam hadn't called back any of my messages. None of them.

That in itself spoke volumes of all I feared was true.

The next morning, I faced the manager in the small conference lounge, staring blankly at the fruit arrangement and bottled water he had laid out in front of me. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed in sync with the whirling of my worried mind, bathing the manager's waiting face in harsh glare.

He asked me about things I did not want to talk about about my stay, the future, if I would be remodeling some of it soon. I provided a polite smile, a fake laugh, and told him everything was fine for now. I was changing plans and I'd be leaving earlier than planned. He did not press further.

The moment I touched down Vegas, I phoned Liam. I phoned multiple times but as is common, he did not pick up and so I opted to dash back home and face my demons before I went after him.

As I pushed open the old creaky entrance door, a beam of golden light poured forth from the living room, illuminating the darkened hallway like a beacon calling me to my doom.

The air inside was heavy with the scent of musty books and stale air, but it was the individual sprawled across my armchair who caused my heart to sink.

Diana's black hair cascaded down her back like a cascade of night, and her green eyes glittered with an unearthly sparkle, like flawless polished emeralds.

The velvet armchair, once a cozy haven where I'd spent countless nights reading and laughing, now seemed to swallow her whole, its rich purple hue a jarring contrast to the cold chill that seemed to emanate from her very presence.

Sat in the sitting room, legs crossed as though she owned the bloody place was Diana. Laid on my velvet armchair, one hand holding a glass of red wine and the other her phone swiping as if she was one of them.

The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, bathing her in an unearthly light that fell on her features. Her designer jacket was thrown over the chair back as if she'd been here for hours, its pricey material a testament to the world she inhabited, a world that was colliding with mine in the most undesirable way.

"Hello, Ethan," she whispered, not even looking up to do so. Her tone was honey with just a dash of venom that caused me to shiver.

My throat parched in an instant. Out of all the people that I didn't particularly wish to meet today, why her?

She eventually glanced up, a sharp smile playing on her lips, her eyes colder than I'd ever seen them. "I told you," she held up her wine. "The truth always finds the light."

And in that moment, I knew I hadn't yet hit rock bottom.

The air started to thicken, heavy with an unspoken tension, as the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant chirping of crickets outside seemed to mock me, emphasizing the unreal nature of this meeting.

The wine in the glass in front of her glowed like blood in the dim light, and I could almost taste the bitter anticipation that filled my mouth.

Why was she even in here? And what did she want? Hope she hadn't spoken a word to anyone.

The questions stormed around my head in a maelstrom, but I was immobile, speechless, as Diana's eyes seemed to bore into the very marrow of my soul.