Boyfriend Dumped Me for “Heiress” BFF? Your New Girl Calls ME “Boss” Every Day! Chapter 06

Boyfriend Dumped Me for “Heiress” BFF? Your New Girl Calls ME “Boss” Every Day! Chapter 06

Hospital bed. IV drip in my arm.

Preston’s pacing by the window, phone pressed to his ear.

Dad’s voice crackles through-he’s in Singapore or Dubai or somewhere closing a deal.

Preston hangs up. Comes over. Sits on the edge of the bed.

Peels back the gauze on my face real slow. Q-tip with antiseptic.

“You loved the wrong guy for four years. That happens.”

His hand stops. Eyes meet mine.

“At least you didn’t marry him first. That’s when it really screws you up.”

Later he shows up with a bag from the diner down the street.

Scrambled eggs. Toast. Hash browns. Coffee.

Drops it on the rolling tray.

“Grabbed some stuff. You should eat.”

I stare at the food.

So breakfast doesn’t have to be the same boring crap every single day.

My throat gets tight.

I turn my head toward the window. Blink fast.

“…Thanks.”

Week later, discharge papers signed.

Preston drives me home in his Audi.

I walk through the front door.

Everyone’s on their knees.

Maria. The gardener. The cook. Two maids I barely know.

Summer and Blake are front and center. Heads down.

Dad’s sitting in his leather chair. Middle of the room like a king on a throne.

He waves at some woman I’ve never seen before-new hire, I guess.

She helps me sit in the chair next to Dad’s.

Dad sets his coffee mug down. Doesn’t raise his voice.

“Willow, sweetheart. I know you’ve got a big heart.”

Pause.

“But you’re about to start working at Sinclair. You need to learn how to handle staff.”

Before I can say anything, one of our security guys-big dude, buzz cut-walks over to Summer.

Backhands her across the face.

Blood flies from her mouth.

He doesn’t stop.

Another slap. Another. Another.

Way harder than what she did to me.

Her face puffs up like a balloon. Red and shiny.

Blake’s watching. Frozen. Color draining from his face.

He looks up at Dad. Tries to sound calm but his voice shakes.

“I-I don’t get it.”

Swallows hard.

“Isn’t she your daughter?”

Dad picks up his coffee. Takes a sip. Totally unbothered.

“Housekeeper’s kid playing dress-up as a Sinclair?”

Sets the mug back down.

“Only reason she’s still breathing is because my actual daughter liked her.”

Summer coughs. Blood splatters on the marble.

She tips sideways. Falls.

Then she crawls. Hands and knees. Drags herself toward me.

Grabs my pant leg with bloody fingers.

Eyes huge and wet.

“Willow-please. We’re sisters. You said I was your sister.”

Her voice cracks.

“We’re really gonna throw everything away over a guy?”

She’s full-on sobbing now.

“I screwed up. I know. I’ll give Blake back. Just-can’t we go back to normal?”

I look down at her.

She’s wrecked.

For a second, I almost feel sorry for her.

I remember her first day here.

She was seven. Rail-thin. Flinching at every sound.

Elementary school-she followed me everywhere. Wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone.

I held her hand. Made her stand up straight.

Middle school-Kayla Barnes cornered me after class with a brick because Mrs. Chen liked my essays better.

Summer jumped in front of me. Took the hit.

She’s still got the scar under her hairline.

High school-we were glued at the hip. Pulled all-nighters studying for AP exams. Cried together when we both got into State.

Freshman year, Blake asked me out.

Summer got right in his face. Jabbed her finger at his chest.

“You hurt Willow? I’ll bury you.”

But also.

Freshman year-she went to that indie concert with Blake. Didn’t tell me. Came back saying she “didn’t want his extra

ticket to go to waste.”

Sophomore year-she put that custom photo frame he made on her nightstand. Right where I’d see it every morning. Kept going on about how “talented” he was.

Junior year-she wore that white sundress. Carried the Kate Spade bag I saved up for three months to buy her. Walked across campus with Blake while people stared.

I walked behind them like the help.

And two weeks ago.

She wanted me dead.

Told Blake to let me “disappear.”

The pity evaporates.

I jerk my leg away from her.

Stare at the bloody handprint on my jeans.

“Gross.”