He Said He’d Never Let Me Drink, Then Pushed the Glass to My Lips for Her, Chapter 03
“Lila!”
I bolted upright, glaring at her with everything I had.
“Ah!” She clutched the torn fabric to her chest, scrambling to cover herself, face pale with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“Enough!”
Nathan snapped, shrugging off his jacket to drape over her shoulders.
“Sienna, it’s just a dress. Do you really have to push this far?”
Just a dress?
I almost laughed. The words rang in my ears like a sick joke.
“That robe was—”
“I know,” he cut in, voice rising, sharp with impatience.
“Your mom made it. But she’s gone, Sienna. What difference does it make now? Things get old. Things break. That’s life.”
He softened his tone, but it made it worse.
“If it means that much, I’ll have someone recreate it. Exactly.”
“If one isn’t enough, I’ll make ten. A hundred.”
Fury surged. My grip tightened until my knuckles turned white. Blood began creeping backward up my IV line.
“My mother made this with her own hands,” I hissed. “Tell me, Nathan—can you buy that? Can you even price that?”
The argument spiraled, growing louder and uglier by the second.
Lila’s sobs grew louder. “Please, stop fighting because of me…”
“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have touched your things. I’ll pay you back, okay? I’ll pay for it—”
She fumbled with her wallet, pulling out crumpled tens, fives, ones, and pressed them into a trembling pile on the nightstand.
Her jacket slipped, exposing her shoulder again. She scrambled to cover herself, her cheeks flushed with humiliation.
Nathan’s jaw tightened. Without a word, he pulled out a card and tossed it onto my bed.
“There’s a million in there. Buy as many vintage robes as you want.”
His voice was cold now, edged with disgust.
“Sienna, how did you become this person? Forcing a girl to undress in public over a piece of cloth? Humiliating her with money?”
He shook his head.
“You’re impossible.”
“Get some rest.” We won’t bother you anymore.”
With that, he guided Lila out, shielding her like she was the victim.
As they left, Lila glanced back, just once, and smirked. Right in front of me, she slid her arm through Nathan’s.
The door slammed shut.
I picked up the card with shaking hands. Tears spilled over before I could stop them.
Because that card wasn’t just money.
It was ours.
Every month, we deposited money into that account. Wedding, honeymoon, life. Every dollar in there meant us.
And now he’d thrown it at me—over her.
A tear hit the plastic. The embossed letters blurred, Sienna Shaw, Nathan Reed, until the names ran together, unreadable.
Just like us.