Page 108 of False Promises

“Stop. For fuck’s sake, stop. Enough.”

I lifted my finger to rub the sore spot where the plate collided with my head.

It fucking hurt.

Blood. Damn it.

“You and I, we belong together.” Her satanic laughter turned into a flood of tears, leaving trails of mascara down her cheeks. “Carter, stay.” It reminded me of the morning where she pretended to have lost a role, playing the victim and calling to the protective side of my personality after I flew in to spend the weekend together.

“Sorry, Savannah. That little number doesn’t work on me anymore. I’m done. Oh, the moving company will be here in twenty minutes.” I motioned to the apartment with my hand. “I gave all of this to charity.”

“B-but what about the painting? You can’t give that painting away.”

“Already did. It’s fucking hideous anyway. The art gallery is picking it up later. It was all in my name. And your precious dresses are gone too. Donated them to a woman’s shelter earlier.”

My smirk returned as someone knocked on the door. I checked my phone. Just in time.

“Honey,” I said, using a syrupy voice and yanking the door open. “We have guests.”

27

SAVANNAH

Carter went to answer the door as I stayed there, glued to the floor, unable to process the scene playing in front of my eyes. How could he have the audacity to leave me behind? With nothing? He would take it all. Everything I worked so hard to own, he was throwing it away. Shelters and charities. Carter was sick. Something was wrong between his ears. Who would give away designer dresses and purses to people not deserving of such luxuries?

The mere thought of that hurt me more than knowing he was leaving me.

He would change his mind. In which world would a man be able to walk away from exquisite perfection like me? I snorted. I gave him my all, and this was how he thanked me. Nonsense. Not sure if I would take him back once he realized his mistake. With a wedding proposal and many carats, I might consider it. Maybe.

I was everything he should aim for in his life, the finest partner he could ask for. All this time, I always offered him the best of me. And what did he do? He rejected me. Threw me away like an outdated pair of heels.

Sobs strangled me as I surveyed the apartment. Sure, it was modest compared to what I was entitled to, but I was starting to enjoy it. To feel at home between these walls.

If Carter thought I would let him steal everything I deserved from me, he had another thing coming. I’d fight back. Maybe he had ignored this about me, but I was never bluffing. Now that he chose to ruin me, I would make his life a living hell. I would take everything from him, starting with his stupid best friend and her son.

Over the two years we spent together, I had accumulated all the dirt I could find about him. In case, one day, he walked out on me. Carter Hills was a straightforward guy. Loyal to a fault—yeah, this one played in my favor—generous, polite, honest. People genuinely loved him. This was about to change. His flaws and faults weren’t worth the front pages of a tabloid. Except for one. The dirty little secret Dahlia and he shared and that nobody knew about. I had my suspicions from day one. I had heard the stories. Had seen the pictures on his phone. And I could tell with almost complete certitude, I was right about this one.

Tomorrow, I would shop the gossip rags to sell the story, which should bring me a pretty penny and position me as the leader in this war we were about to enter.

Carter Hills’s good name and reputation would be stained forever. His fans would reject him. Call him a fraud. A liar.

The world would see him as he truly was. An untrustworthy man who wasn’t the good guy he pretended to be, but a backstabber. And hypocrite.

And once he hit rock bottom, I would come up with more stories to bury him alive. Until he was nothing but a shadow of himself.

Nobody messed with Savannah Prince.

I was a queen, not a peasant. And I’d play the act of my life.

I thought the photographer I’d been tipping to follow us around and snap juicy pictures of us together since the first time Carter came to LA would also fulfill the other part of our deal. Take incriminating pictures of Carter that insinuated he put himself in compromising situations. The goal was to humiliate him and teach him a lesson. And make him come running back to me, on his knees, and promise me nothing was going on when I acted insecure and hurt. Each time a new picture surfaced on the internet in the last one month, it came with a statement from a source close to the couple, aka myself, confirming how heartbroken I was by Carter’s cheating allegations.

Nobody needed to know that those too were released by me. To provoke Carter. To make him come out of his hidey-hole.

Instead of helping my cause, the ploy backfired.

I looked like an idiot because his team was always one step ahead of me, turning the narrative around. No matter what the photographs hinted at, they continually portrayed Carter as the nice, selfless guy, who was there for his loved ones, even for the women friends who were going through a tough time. His absence was explained away, saying he was working on a new secret project. As for me, I ended up being depicted as the jealous, over-the-top girlfriend, especially after the interview I had given.

I was done being played a fool. It was about time I regained control of my story. And this time, I would come at him with more ammunition.