You’re in your bed, blanket pulled tight around you. Your phone keeps lighting up—texts, screenshots, people sending the same picture over and over. The photo of Rafe Cameron kissing some girl you’ve never seen before. Her hand in his hair. His face angled like he’s all-in.

You’d stared at it until your vision blurred, zoomed in, zoomed out, prayed it was fake. But nothing looked off—no warped lines, no weird smoothing.

And it breaks you. Because you trusted him. You trusted the softness in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in his entire world. You trusted him even when everyone warned you not to.

Across the island, Topper Thornton had sent him the same photo with a confused “bro???”. Rafe stared at it, jaw flexing, pulse pounding.

He knew the moment he saw it that it never happened. He knows his own memories. He knows his own actions. And he knows exactly whose fingerprints are all over this mess.

He marches straight to his father’s office.

Ward looks up once, irritated. “What now?”

Rafe drops his phone on the desk. “You did this.”

Ward barely glances at it. “I encouraged someone to fix a situation that wasn’t good for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not good for me? She is good for me.”

Ward folds his hands, leaning back in his chair. “You need someone who fits the family’s image. Someone who benefits us. Not a… distraction.”

Rafe slams his fist onto the desk, the frame of a family picture rattling. “She’s not a distraction. She’s the only damn thing in my life that makes sense.”

His father raises a brow. “Then this has clearly gotten out of hand.”

Rafe steps closer, trembling. “You messed with her. You humiliated her. You don’t get to talk about what’s out of hand.”

Ward folds his arms. “I do, actually. And one day, you’ll thank me.”

He scoffs, staring at his father like he wants to murder him. “You really think ruining her life is something I’ll thank you for?”

“That girl will forget you,” Ward says simply.

Rafe shakes his head. “She’s not gonna forget me,” he says, stepping back. “But after this? I’ll sure as hell forget you.”

He’s out the door before Ward can answer. All he can think about is you, because if he’s seen the photo, you’ve definitely seen it. And if you’ve seen it, you’re hurting, probably thinking the worst of him, because even though he hates to admit it, that picture looks damn real.

Then the doorbell rings, but you don’t open.

A few minutes later there are light taps against your window, and when you turn your head, Rafe is outside your window, chest heaving, hands braced against the frame from climbing up.

He swallows hard, pressing his forehead to the glass. “Hi Baby... Don’t believe it, I swear on everything, I never touched her or anyone else.”