Too Late, Mr. Betrayer

d, donating marrow to save my fiancé Ethan' s "failing" company and his "dying" col

was no crisis. Brooke, far from dying, walked out of my bedroom, vibrant, triumphant. It was a meticulously planned

th lavish gifts. Chloe, my best friend, became her accomplice, rationalizing their cruelty. The breaking point arrived when I ove

fall, pointing accusingly at me. Ethan, without question, condemned me, and Chloe, my dear friend, slapped me hard across the face

f the hotel, out of their lives, without a backward glance. My only