The door clicked shut behind Xander, and I stood there staring at it like an idiot. My chest was doing that thing again that tight, airless thing where breathing felt optional and painful all at once.

I hated him.

God, I hated him.

But I hated my parents more. And Alex? That betrayal was a knife I couldn't stop twisting.

The silence in the penthouse was suffocating. All this space, all this luxury, and I felt like I was drowning in it.

We didn't own anything. Xander owned things. I was ...