Adam's brow furrowed. "What game are you playing? Don't think I don't know you're just looking for another chance to bully Lola."
The smile stayed fixed. Inside, my heart turned to ice.
His first thought wasn't that I was bleeding out. It was that I—the cripple—might somehow hurt his precious mistress.
He dropped me onto the bed with zero tenderness, the impact jarring my spine, and turned to leave.
But Lola tugged his sleeve. "Adam, she doesn't look that sick. Let her come. If I'm in danger, I'll just scream for you."
I didn't even have a cane. I had to drag my shattered leg to the car.
Before we started the engine, I held out my hand. "Adam, let me see your phone."
Confusion flickered across his face, but he handed it over.
He hadn't changed the password. Still my birthday.
My fingers flew across the screen—locating his private files, attaching them to an email, hitting send. The moment the notification appeared, I deleted the evidence and handed it back.
The car pulled up to the luxury jewelry store.
As I climbed out, a hand shoved me hard from behind.
"Hurry up!" Lola hissed, low enough that only I could hear.