Page 44 of The Art of Deception

I was played for a fool, and I let him.

I’m such an idiot.

The elevator opens, and I stumble out, my bare feet hitting the cool concrete as I sob uncontrollably while running to thecar. I probably shouldn’t drive like this, but I have to get away from here.

I throw myself into the car, hands shaking as I jab the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, but it’s nothing compared to the storm inside me. My breath is ragged, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears.

I slam my foot down.

The tires screech, screaming against the asphalt just like every part of me is screaming inside.

I don’t care.

I need out.

Away from his snobby penthouse.

Away from the lies.

Away fromAlex fucking Scott!

As fast as fucking possible.

The city lights blur past me, streaks of neon and shadow smearing together as I push the car harder, faster, as if speed alone can rip me free from the gravity of him. But no matter how far I drive, I still feel him—his voice, his touch, the weight of everything he didn’t say pressing against my chest like a vice.

And that’s the worst part.

I hate him.I fucking hate him.

So why does every shattered, broken piece of me still want to turn back?

I can’t go to Levi like this—him seeing me worked up will make him upset—so I just keep driving. I don’t know where the hell I’m going, I can barely even see through my tears, but I don’t stop.

I keep going.

Tears rolling down my face, dripping onto my shirt.

My breaths come in short, uneven gasps, my chest tightening like a fist squeezing the air from my lungs. I swipe at my face, but it’s useless—the tears won’t stop, won’t slow, won’t let mebreathe. My vision blurs again, the road ahead nothing but streaks of light and shadow.

I clutch the wheel harder, my fingers aching, my body trembling under the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once. A sharp sob rips from my throat, raw and broken, and I bite my lip to stop another from slipping free.

The world outside moves past me in a haze, headlights flashing, neon signs flickering, but I barely register any of it. My mind is stuck in a loop—his voice, his face, the way everything shattered in an instant.

I don’t know how long I drive.

But eventually, I pull my car to a stop, wipe my face, take a deep breath and observe where I am. I slide out of my car before walking up the path to the brownstone. I know it’s late, but I’m hoping she’ll be awake.

I gently rap on the door. That way, if she’s in bed asleep, it won’t wake her. A few seconds later, the door swings open, and Jana stands there holding a baseball bat with a green mud mask on her face, wearing a unicorn onesie.

I can’t help but chuckle.

Goddammit! That is exactly what I need right now.

She drops the bat to her side, taking one glance at me, jutting out her hip. “I thought you were holding it together too well at the shop tonight. C’mon, let’s get drunk,” she offers without hesitation.

I rush forward, taking her into a tight embrace.

She softens, hugging me back, and exhales. “This isn’t about the shop, is it?”

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