One could say I'd been acting… off for the past few days. And they'd be right. I'd never felt this kind of rage toward anyone before—a deep, burning fury that clawed at my insides every time I replayed Guy's words. That fucking idiot threatened to take Jasmine to his bed? It made my blood boil. I wanted to strangle him right there in the street, feel his smug throat crush under my hands. But I couldn't. Not yet. I had to play smart. Had to let Guy think he'd won—that I was packing up, moving out, letting Jasmine slip through my fingers like sand. It was the only way to lure him into complacency. One wrong move, and everything crumbled.
I'd spent the morning pacing my apartment, the eviction notice crumpled on the counter like a death sentence. Forty-eight hours—now down to less than twenty-four.
