And just like that, I was left lying among the wreckage.
After someone helped me to the hospital and I’d gotten my wounds treated, a string of unfamiliar text messages popped up on my phone.
[Sienna, consider this a warning. Stay away from Lance if you know what’s good for you. Don’t make me ruin your reputation in this city. By the way, all those handmade gifts you gave Lance? They’re dog toys now—literally. My dog plays with them. I only kept them because I felt bad for you. Otherwise, they’d be in the trash.]
The messages stung like a slap to the face.
No wonder Lance always dodged my questions about where my gifts went, claiming he had “stored them carefully.” Turns out they were in his fiancée’s dog’s mouth.
My heart sank as the realization hit me: In his eyes, my feelings were worth nothing.
Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I wouldn’t hold back.
Without hesitation, I dialed the number of Lance’s uncle. “Sir, your nephew and his fiancée trashed my house and injured me. I'm now in the hospital. How are you going to settle this?”
There was silence on the other end of the line.