At sixteen, I bent my back over a log to pull my family up from the bottom. One scholarship. One chance. One summer at the Universiade—and everything would be decided.
And then he showed up.
Ethan Tower. A swimmer. A major/society brat. A predator in expensive sneakers. He filmed me, destroyed my reputation, and came to “save” me. As if fire and the firefighter could be the same person.
He paid for my brother’s treatment behind my back. He erased the scandal from the internet. He blackmailed my coach. And every time I said, “Let go,”—he held on tighter.
***
– You bought my family. I can’t leave.
– You can. You just don’t want to.
– It’s the same thing.
– No. And you know the difference. That’s why you’re angry.