Chapter 15
“Well, well, well, Miss Glass. You’ve made it all the way across the country with the darling Mr. Lowell,” Poppy purred. She walked past me and took a seat on the tufted sofa in our living room. “It would be intriguing to see how you managed it, but I don’t listen to losers.”
Loser? I wondered if she was referring to the loss of my scholarship. I held my tongue and clenched my fists. I knew retorting would only be lowering myself to her level. I had to remind myself of that.
Coco had turned into a cowering sheep in the corner, barely able to look at either of us. “Show her the photos,” Poppy said.
Coco handed me the same photographs from before, only this time, they showed Poppy’s face with a sly grin as she looked at the camera, as if she wanted to show off the best angles of the bruises.
“It was you,” I said. “He never even—”
“I knew you wouldn’t listen to me,” Poppy said. She put a hand on her chest. “He abused me, Riley. He nearly choked me to death!”
The way she said it was like she was an annoying overactor in a b-list theater production. “That’s not the smile of a victim,” I said, pointing to the photographs.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“That you wanted it.” My mind raced to the final night of their relationship, when Owen told me he walked out on her. “You begged for it, Poppy. And he stopped before you could—”
She slapped me across the face. “I don’t beg for anything.”
I held my face for a moment, shocked. “So instead of asking me to talk to you like an adult, you had to get Coco to tell me she was the one who was abused?” I asked.
“Your point?”
“You’re a sociopath,” I said. “Do you feel remorse for anything?”
She laughed. “Remorse? That’s what you want to ask me when your pregnant with a sadist’s child?” I cupped my belly defensively. Coco was in tears, mouthing silent pleas to her phone. I hoped she had changed her mind about the whole situation and was calling for help. Whatever Poppy had in mind didn’t seem promising. She had botched her usual subtle tactics, like she had used on Owen’s family, which meant she had an over-the-top end goal in mind, out of sheer desperation. “An aspiring artist and an aspiring murderer. Maybe you can use it to fuel your pathetic sculptures.”
It took everything I had to not give in to the rage inside of me.
“Did you get pregnant to make sure you could keep this lifestyle of endless materials?” She tilted her head. “A private studio to make your crappy little ceramics?”
“You’re the one who demanded a certain lifestyle, Poppy.” Her eyes narrowed, and Coco visibly shrank further down in her seat. I knew what I was about to say wasn’t mature, but I couldn’t stop it. “You’re the one who just wanted money.”
She lunged at me quicker than I had ever seen a human move. I twisted and thrashed as hard as I could, but Poppy had my neck in a chokehold and screamed at Coco until she helped tie me down, binding my wrists and ankles in zip ties. As soon as I was restrained, Poppy straddled me, her fingers around my throat.
“Don’t worry,” she laughed. She smiled like a maniac. “I’ll make sure the court knows you fought for your life. And I’ll make sure Owen dies in jail like a fucking rat.”
“You insecure, gold-digging, manipulative bitch,” I said, and then spit in her face.
The expression quickly dropped, and it was like a demon had washed over her facade. “You think you know me, about the complicated relationship Owen and I had together, but you don’t know anything.” She sneered at me, her lips curled. “You can find anyone with money, but this? This is personal.”
She squeezed my throat as I bucked and thrashed. I thought of the baby, the one person I had sworn to protect and was failing to keep safe, and Owen, how I wished I had spent more time trying to make us work with our new future. I wished I had told him everything, about Coco, and about the baby. The edges of my vision turned dark. The only thing left still illuminated was Poppy’s grin, almost inhuman, her teeth bared from ear to ear, like a hyena.
Then everything went black.