ntil my skin split. My knuckles were raw, my fingertips stung, and the bucket beside me smelled like old soap and worse decisions. The marble always looked the same when it was done-shiny, perfect, unbothered. Unlike me. The hallway outside the grand salon was a parade ground for expensive shoes. Clarissa's heels. Riven's boots. Riven. I hated that I still recognized the sound of his walk. He dragged one heel slightly, only noticeable if you knew him like I used to. Before he decided kissing my sister was a better idea than telling me the truth. I hadn't seen him since the garden. Not really. Not since I saw his hands on her waist. Not since I saw him look at her like he used to look at me. And she smiled-smiled like she'd won a bet. My stomach still turned when I remembered it. Not the kiss. The way he let her kiss him. Like it didn't matter. Like I didn't matter. Footsteps above. Two voices. I paused, still on my knees. "You're seriously doing this now?" That was Riven. Frustrated. He still sounded like the boy who used to help me sneak food out of the pantry when Clarissa made sure I didn't eat dinner. "I told you, Riven. We're done," Clarissa replied. I didn't need to see her face to picture the smirk. "You told me a lot of things," he snapped. "You believed them. That's not my fault." Her voice was sharper now, colder. "Honestly, what did you think this was? Some big romantic moment?" "You said you wanted me." "I said I wanted to see if I could take you. And I did. I took you away from her. Took your loyalty. Took your attention. It was easy." My throat went dry. "You used me to screw with her." "And you let me." She didn't sound sorry. She sounded entertained. Riven didn't answer right away. His silence felt loud. "She always liked broken things," Clarissa added. "Guess she got that from our stupid dead grandma. She always had a weakness for Marianne." I stopped breathing. "You're disgusting," he said. Clarissa laughed-just a single, breathy chuckle. "Don't act new. You loved it. The attention. The drama. You loved being fought over." "I never wanted this." "Then you should've kept your tongue out of my mouth." Her heels clicked toward the stairs. "You should go. There's a carriage waiting. There is a royal Choice happening if you didn't hear. And for that I need to be single." The upstairs door slammed. I didn't realize my hands were still in the bucket until the water sloshed. Cold. Filthy. My hands were shaking. So that was it. Riven had kissed me. Then kissed her. Then been thrown away like trash. And Clarissa had gotten exactly what she wanted. Not love. Just me-humiliated. *** An hour later, I walked down the lane alone. The streets were quiet. Most girls were already asleep, dreaming about gold-threaded gowns and a Prince who'd never look their way. I wasn't even thinking about Alexander anymore. I was thinking about not coming back. "Marianne!" The voice stopped me cold. He stepped out of the alley like a ghost from a bad dream-Riven, in a coat too thin for the wind, eyes tired. "Wait-please." I kept walking. "Just talk to me." "No." "Just five minutes." "No, Riven." He followed anyway. "I didn't mean for any of that to happen. I swear. I got-confused. I was angry. You were pulling away. I didn't know where we stood." "Don't you dare blame me." "I'm not-I'm just-" "You didn't trip and fall into her mouth. You chose her." His face crumpled. "I didn't know she'd-" "She is who she's always been. You think I was surprised? You were just stupid enough to think she wouldn't do it to you, too." "I'm sorry." "Not enough." We stood there in the quiet. Somewhere behind us, a dog barked. A baby cried. Life kept going, like none of this mattered. "You hurt me," I said flatly. "You let her make a joke out of me. Out of us." "I still love you." "No," I said. "You love the way I made you feel. There's a difference." He reached out. I didn't move. "Please," he whispered. I stepped back. "You made your choice. Go live with it." I turned around and didn't stop walking, not even when I heard him cry out my name again.