The Three-Year Lie: Her Sweet Revenge

ca

o my skin as I stumbled out of The Obsidian. I didn' t feel the cold. I didn' t feel

ghtest. Bitch. It

t name.

reath. It hurled me back in time, to the cold linoleum floors of a university dorm, to the

A bottle of bleach "accidentally" spilled on my only formal dress before a scholarship interview. They locked me in a dark janitor's closet for hours, her laughter echoing outside as my panicked breaths turned into ragged sobs, reigniting a

girl from a working-class family who had no resources

thony Holden

me to my car after late-night study sessions. He never pushed, never pried, just offered a quiet, solid strength that I desperately needed. He listened, tr

e get a new scholarship when mine was inexplicably revoked. He paid off my mother's sudden, crushing

ecome my

nd safety, had believed him. I had trust

" Emmanuel' s mocking v

s a fool. A comple

to get up. I just knelt there in a puddle, the dirty city water soaking the knees of my pants, and laughed. A hollow, broken sound tha

I ignored it. It was probably the hospital, a colleague, or-

it with numb fingers. The screen was cracked and slic

swiped to answer. "

r assisted living facility. "Erica? It' s your grandmother. She' s had a massive

f panic and rain. "I' m on my way

taxi was taken. The subway entrance was flooded. I stood on the corner, waving my arms

own, revealing a man in a crisp military uniform. His face was all sharp

he back seat, gasping out, "Mount Sinai

e rearview mirror for a split second, and t

m. His face was grim. "We' ve done everything we can," he said, h

had raised me after my parents died, looked so small and frail against the

t lucid. "Erica, baby," she raspe

I choked out, squee

ered. "I want to see him. Want to see t

rs fumbling as I dialed his number. It rang once, twice, then went to

ss the screen. Nana is dying. Mount Sinai ICU.

remained unread. The little gray checkma

thick and poisonous in my mouth. "He got stuck in a

d boy," she murmured, her eyes drift

y beep of the heart monitor dissolved

s tearing from my soul. I had lost the last piece of my family. I had lost

f paperwork, quiet condolences, and a profound, hollo

funeral home, a morbid curiosity took hold. I opened my phone, my fingers

nthony' s arms. They were at The Obsidian, a bottle of champagne on the table between them. He was smiling, that rare, breathta

was dying, while I was frantically trying to reach him, he was ce

een weeping and breaking, went silent. It

ate. I walked to the nurses' station, my

e two

"I need to schedule a termination,"

"Dr. Evans, it' s Erica Richards. My grandmother just passed

need. The wedding is in three weeks, isn

ng is cancelled. I' ll be taking a six-month leave of absence after my berea

silence on the oth

be my wedding day," I continued calmly. "But before I go