The transition from heaven to hell, it appeared, could occur in the mere blink of an eye. His heart had taken flight upon the confession of her affection, only to be plunged into the chasm of despair by her cold words mere moments later. Phoebe found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, a sharp pain searing through her. She bit back a cry, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her pain. Theodore’s muscular arm was a firmly barricaded across her chest, his other hand seizing her chin in a grip that was both rough and menacing. “Speak!” he demanded.

A sharp pain radiated from her chin, and Phoebe had no doubt that any further silence would result in physical harm. She met his gaze with a cold stare of her own. “What do you want me to say?”

Theodore was a raging tempest of anger and resentment. “Phoebe, does being kept away from Edward cause you more pain than a dagger to the heart?”

Phoebe knew he had misunderstood her intentions, but she didn’t bother to correct him. For three years, he had been distrustful of every word she uttered. His apprehension was unwavering, yet he took her sarcastic comments to heart. She averted her gaze, unable to bear his scrutiny any longer.

“Think whatever you want.”

Theodore’s anger threatened to consume him. He wanted to hurt her, yet a part of him yearned for her. It was a tormenting contradiction that tore at his heart.

“Phoebe, I wish I could rip out your heart and see if it’s made of stone.” With those words, he pushed her away and stormed off.

Phoebe’s back collided with the wall again, the pain causing her to arch her waist slightly. She lifted her gaze just enough to watch him stride away. Closing her eyes, she drew a shallow breath, the ache deep and biting.

The pain in her back seemed to migrate, a dull throbbing now palpable in her heart. She longed to tell him that her heart wasn’t made of stone, that it could break, it could hurt. Couldn’t he be less cruel to her? But she couldn’t voice it. Begging for mercy wasn’t her style, nor did she know how to lower herself to earn his affection.

After standing still for a moment, she noticed Vanessa stepping out of Starbucks. For some reason, Phoebe instinctively hid behind the wall, only to see Vanessa donning a mask and baseball cap, sneaking across to the other side of the street. Phoebe followed Vanessa’s gaze, and although it was a distance away, her keen eyesight revealed Brandon across the street-not with Mrs. Reynolds, judging by the slender figure in a bright pink suit dress. A wave of restlessness settled in her chest.

Watching Vanessa, Phoebe observed her sneak behind a thick tree, pretending to make a call while her eyes remained fixed across the street. A sense of trepidation struck Phoebe had Vanessa caught on to Brandon’s affair? Or had Vanessa just coincidentally seen something in Starbucks prompting her to confirm her suspicions once outside?

Quickly, Phoebe fished for a black mask from her bag and put it on. Across the street, Brandon whispered something in the woman’s ear, who responded with a radiant smile and latched onto his arm as they walked ahead. With the risk of being discovered gone, Vanessa darted across the street, discreetly stalking Brandon and the mystery woman closely behind them. Phoebe similarly took off after them to maintain her distance. However, she didn’t cross the street, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She stayed on their side, trailing them to avoid alerting Vanessa to the fact that she was now the one being shadowed.

Keeping her mask on, she slid off her blazer and tied her white T-shirt into a knot to reveal a sliver of her midriff. She then looped the jacket around her waist, and removed her hair tie, letting her hair tumble down in a deliberate messy hairstyle. Vanessa surely wouldn’t be able to recognize her now.

Unaware of the predator that tailed her, Vanessa followed Brandon at a leisurely pace, always maintaining a safe distance. Brandon wrapped his arm around the waist of the woman, their conversation unknown, but her laughter was unmistakably sweet.

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