The morning after Maddox shattered me, I woke up with swollen eyes and an ache between my thighs that served as a brutal reminder of what we’d done. I had given him my virginity—my first everything—and he had called it a mistake, tossed a black card at me like payment, and walked away. I thought that was the lowest point. I was wrong.
Thanksgiving arrived like a cruel joke.
The dining room was filled with laughter and the rich aroma of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and my mother’s famous pumpkin pie. Everyone was seated and chatting happily—my mom and Richard, a few extended family members. I sat quietly, pushing food around my plate, grateful that Maddox’s seat remained empty. At least I wouldn’t have to face him today.
Then the front door opened.
Maddox walked in,
