Morning arrives like a threat.
Too bright. Too quiet. The kind of calm that exists purely to mock you before everything detonates.
I wake up already irritated.
My phone is on the nightstand, face-down, exactly where I left it. I don't touch it. That would be weakness. Instead, I stare at the ceiling and count the ways today could go wrong.
Arrow will be careful.
Maddie will be desperate.
Carson will pretend he's neutral while sharpening knives under the table.
Perfect.
By noon, my phone vibrates itself into irrelevance. I finally flip it over.
Twelve messages.
Nine from Maddie.
Two from Arrow.
One from an unknown number.
I open that one first. Always start with the wildcard.
This is Carson.
We're meeting at 6.
Don't be late.
No greeting. No politeness.
Control issues wrapped in monospace confidence.
Cute.
Arrow's messages are next.
Are you okay?
We should talk before tonight.
Before tonight.
Like damage control is a thing that still exists.
I don't reply. I shower instead—slow, deliberate. I choose clothes that say I'm not here to be liked and yes, I planned this. Black, obviously. Soft enough to invite, sharp enough to warn.
When I finally leave the apartment, the air feels heavier. Like the city knows something I don't. Or worse—like it knows exactly what I'm about to do.
Carson's place is sterile. Glass, steel, money pretending it isn't desperate. The kind of apartment that echoes when you breathe wrong.
Arrow is already there.
He looks up the moment I walk in. His jaw tightens, then relaxes, like he's bracing himself and failing.
"You came," he says.
"I was invited," I reply sweetly. "I'm polite like that."
Maddie is on the couch.
She looks… wrecked.
Red eyes. Perfect posture. Hands folded too tightly in her lap like she's holding herself together by force alone. When she sees me, her face does something complicated—relief and resentment colliding headfirst.
There it is.
Carson closes the door behind me with a click that sounds final.
"Let's sit," he says.
I don't.
"I'm comfortable standing," I reply. "Go on."
Arrow shoots me a look. Warning.
I ignore it. Obviously.
Carson sighs like he's already tired of us. "This doesn't need to be hostile."
Maddie finally speaks. Her voice is soft. Careful. Weaponized.
"I just want to understand what's happening."
I tilt my head. "Do you?"
She flinches. Good.
"You've been distant," she continues. "You barely answer me. You're always with him." Her eyes flick to Arrow, then back to me. "If I did something wrong, I deserve to know."
Deserve.
I let the silence stretch until it hurts.
"No," I say calmly. "You deserve honesty."
Arrow shifts. "Hey—"
"I wasn't talking to you," I cut in.
He shuts up.
Smart man. Late, but smart.
I face Maddie fully. "You didn't do anything wrong. You just did everything too much."
Her breath catches. "That's not fair."
"I didn't say it was fair. I said it was true."
Carson steps in. "Okay. Let's slow this down."
"Why?" I ask. "So everyone can keep lying politely?"
Arrow finally snaps. "You're enjoying this."
I smile at him. "And you're still here."
That lands.
Maddie stands abruptly. "So what is this?" she demands. "Are you trying to take him from me?"
The room goes still.
Arrow doesn't answer.
I don't look at him.
Instead, I step closer to Maddie—close enough that she has to look up at me.
"No," I say quietly. "I'm showing you that you never had him."
Her face drains of color.
Arrow exhales sharply. "That's not—"
"Isn't it?" I interrupt, finally turning to him. "Say it then. Correct me."
He opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Carson swears under his breath.
Maddie laughs. A short, broken sound. "Wow. So that's it. You just… replaced me."
I lean in, voice velvet and venom. "No. I reminded him."
She stares at Arrow. Waiting. Begging.
"Arrow?" she whispers.
He looks at me instead.
That's the moment everything breaks.
Carson's phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, frowns.
"This isn't good," he mutters.
"What?" Arrow asks.
Carson looks up at all of us. His expression unreadable.
"She didn't tell you?" he asks Maddie.
Tell us what?
Maddie's eyes widen.
"Oh," I murmur. "That's interesting."
Arrow turns sharply to her. "Tell us what?"
Silence.
Thick. Electric. Fatal.
Maddie swallows. "I didn't think it mattered."
Carson stands. "It matters."
I cross my arms, smiling slowly. "Congratulations," I say. "You've officially made this fun."
Arrow's voice is tight. "Maddie."
She finally looks at me. Fear, now. Real fear.
"I'm pregnant," she says.
The room goes dead.
No sound.
No air.
No fucking mercy.
Arrow stares at her like the floor just disappeared.
Carson mutters, "Jesus Christ."
And me?
I laugh.
Soft. Slow. Unstoppable.
"Well," I say, meeting Arrow's shattered gaze, "that complicates things."