The Truth She Couldn't Tell

re in her chest. The gold lettering seemed to mock her, shimmering under the dim light of her apartm

t, she opened a small wooden box on her bookshelf-a box filled with other relics of her forgotten life. She shoved the invitation inside, along wit

on the beach with Marcus, his laughter warm and real. The next, she was watching him place a rin

l. The director of the community center called her int

ad a complaint. Someone... influential. They said you were

ing was clear. Grandfather Th

her voice hollow. She didn

a. You' ve been a w

er-a spare safety vest, a water bottle, a tube of

herself standing outside a noisy, crowded bar in the West Village. The Gilded Cage. A jolt of recognition, sharp and painful, went throug

ened yesterday. She could almost feel the sticky gin an

n name snapped her

it is. If it isn' t t

ized them. They were Marcus' s old inner circle, people who had o

oking highlights stepped forward. "Chloe! L

ssed in a stunning red dress, her arm linked with Marcus' s. He

with fake sympathy. "What are you doing

" one of the men sneered.

e so only she could hear. "He came to see you, you know. After he got out. He drove by your pathetic little volunteer post three

He had looked for her.

Ava mumbled, t

ed our friend' s life. The least you can do is have a drink with us. To celebrate his

churned. "I

now," the sharp-featured wom

ice turning ugly. He grabbed her ar

tanding there, watching. His face was a blank canvas, his eyes cold

est died completely. He didn' t care.

s dizzying, washed over her. It didn

whiskey burned a trail down her throat, hitting

a brittle, broken

cking her frame. She doubled over, her hand flying to her mouth. When she pulled it a