Chapter 3

The apartment went dead silent.

I stared at the bright wrapper on the hardwood floor, feeling the blood drain from my face.

For three years, he had played the role of a conservative gentleman, claiming he wanted to save himself and respect me until our wedding night.

I had actually respected him for that.

And now?

He had condoms ready to go in his pocket?

"That's not mine!" Logan blurted out, his face turning ghostly pale.

"I swear it's not mine! A buddy must've shoved it in my coat at the bar the other night and I forgot to throw it out!"

His voice was trembling, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead.

I had never seen him this terrified before.

"I didn't say it was yours," I said, tilting my head with a cold smile. "Why are you so defensive?"

"I'm not defensive! I just don't want you getting the wrong idea!"

He bent down, snatching the wrapper off the floor, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Relax. I believe you," I said, turning back to the front door.

He visibly exhaled.

I swung the door wide open. My dad was standing right there.

He was wearing a tailored black overcoat, tall and imposing.

Flanking him were two men in dark suits—uniformed state investigators.

"Mr... Mr. Vance? What are you doing here?"

Logan’s voice cracked. Every ounce of color evaporated from his face.

He whipped his head toward me, his eyes filled with sheer disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell me your dad was coming over?!"

I ignored him, stepping aside to welcome my dad in.

My dad’s cold, calculating gaze swept over Logan’s face.

"He's here to pick you up," I finally said.

Logan crushed the wrapper in his fist, the plastic crackling sharply in the silence.

"Pick me up? What are you talking about? I don't understand."

Logan forced an awkward chuckle, taking a hesitant step forward.

My dad didn't flinch.

The two investigators stepped forward in unison, blocking his path.

Logan froze in his tracks, his feet seemingly glued to the floor.

"Mr. Vance, what is the meaning of this?" He looked at me, eyes practically begging for help. "Babe, tell your dad! What is going on?"

I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest.

Logan held out his hands in a posture of complete innocence.

"Is there some kind of misunderstanding here?"

"Misunderstanding?" My dad finally spoke.

Just one word, yet Logan’s shoulders visibly shrank.

"Logan, do I look like a man who jokes around?"

"Sir, did someone feed you some rumors about me?" Logan was still trying to scramble for an out, the fake smile slipping off his face. "My feelings for your daughter are real. I love her with all my heart."

A dry laugh escaped my lips.

Three years. I had heard those three words countless times.

He said them every time I wired him cash. He said them every time I bought him expensive gifts. He said them whenever he needed me to back down.

As if those three words were a magic key that unlocked my wallet.

"Your love?" I looked him dead in the eye. "Is your love stealing my personal identity to take out a seventy-thousand-dollar loan?"