HARPER
"What did you do?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
Because, as far as I was concerned, silencing the media wasn't easy. Not with something as sensational as what happened that night. I didn't even want to imagine the narrative they'd spin—probably frame me as the aggressor. Maybe even say I went after Owen. Harassed him.
Bile rose in my throat again. I swallowed it back, shaking as I tugged the duvet up to my chin.
Owen. The feel of his hands on my body. That twisted grin on his face.
The way he looked at me…
I shivered harder, trying to erase it all from my mind, but the memory clung like oil. How long had he been harbouring those thoughts about me?
