Chapter 4

Logan turned around, grabbed my worn duffel bag from the storage room, and threw it onto the floor at my feet.

"There. All your garbage is in there."

He pointed a finger at the front door. "Take your junk and get the hell out."

I stood frozen, an icy chill creeping into my bones.

Tiffany strolled over, wrapping her arm possessively around Logan’s biceps, her lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"Chloe, are you seriously still this clueless?"

She tapped the lease on the table. "Take a closer look at what you just signed, sweetie. For ten grand, you just leased this condo to us for fifteen whole years. That includes the local school district enrollment rights. Right now, this house is ours. When we tell you to get lost, you get lost!"

My vision blurred with unshed tears as I stared at Tiffany.

"Why?" I choked out. "Tiffany, I thought you were my best friend. You were an orphan. I brought you into my home, fed you, bought you new clothes with my own allowance. I even paid for your college textbooks!"

The smirk on Tiffany’s face vanished, replaced by venomous hatred.

"Best friend? Who the hell ever wanted to be your friend!"

She sneered, stepping closer. "You never treated me like an equal! You’re just like every other snob who looked down on me, except you hid it behind a fake halo! Throwing me leftover clothes and buying me meals like I was a stray dog on the street just to satisfy your pathetic savior complex!"

Her eyes burned with rage. "Watching me say thank you, Chloe, thank you over and over again—did it make you feel like a saint? Did it get you off?"

I turned my eyes toward Logan. Suddenly, everything made sickening sense.

"And you?" I whispered. "Is that why you did this too?"

Logan laughed out loud.

"To be honest, when you took the blame and went to prison for me, I did love you."

His expression twisted into something ugly and bitter. "But I hated you just as much. Why did your parents leave you a prime piece of real estate while I was stuck with a violent, drunken piece of trash for a father?"

He leaned in, a victorious grin spreading across his face.

"But look at you now. You have no house. You never finished college. You’re nothing but a convicted felon."

He sneered down at me. "You’re lower than Tiffany. You’re lower than me."

I listened quietly, without moving an inch.

Instead of running away in tears, I sat down calmly on the sofa and glanced at the wall clock.

Almost time.

He should be here any second.

Tiffany thought I was trying to squat. Enraged, she lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face.

Smack!

The force of the blow snapped my head back, and my cheek instantly burned with pain. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I tumbled onto the floor.

"Get out!" Tiffany shrieked. "I know your type! Get the hell out of my house before I beat the crap out of you, you miserable bitch!"

Logan made a half-hearted attempt to hold her back.

For a split second, I thought he was trying to protect me. But then he looked at Tiffany, chuckled, and crouched down in front of me.

"Babe, have some sympathy," Logan said smoothly. "Chloe literally has nowhere else to go. Why don't we show some charity and take her in?"

He patted my swollen cheek with a rough, heavy hand, sending pulses of pain through my jaw.

"Here’s the deal, Chloe. Get on your knees."

He grinned wickedly. "Bow your head and beg Tiffany and me three times. Say thank you for saving me. If you do, you can keep sleeping in that storage room and work as our live-in maid. I’ll even pay you fifty bucks a month. How’s that for generous?"

Logan stood up, laughing gleefully alongside Tiffany.

Amidst their smug laughter, I spoke, my voice calm and crystal clear.

"Logan, that lease agreement is completely void."

I wiped the blood from the corner of my lips and looked up at him. "My legal name isn't Chloe anymore."

Their laughter cut off abruptly. Both of them froze.

"I wrote to you about it in my letters, but of course, you sold them," I continued calmly. "Three years ago, I legally changed my name in prison."

Before either of them could process what I had just said, the heavy front door was violently kicked open from the outside.

A ragged, disheveled man burst in, reeking of cheap whiskey.

It was Logan’s father, Hank.

Clutching an empty liquor bottle in his calloused hand, his bloodshot eyes locked onto Logan like a predator.

"You little bastard! I finally tracked you down!" Hank roared, charging forward. "Think you can run from me? No way in hell!"

"You owe me, boy! I’m leeching off you until the day I die!"