DANTE
Of course. It was his ego and pride that kept him talking. That was what drove him, what fed his belief that what I said was impossible.
Deep down, he didn’t really think I could have slept with Olivia. I was his best friend, the one who stood beside him long before the spotlight, before the money, and before her.
He held onto our so-called friendship, the one that was supposed to be untouchable and unbreakable. And that was exactly what made it so pathetic.
Because two years ago, he had taken something from our friendship and pretended not to know what he’d done. He had no idea the pain of the betrayal I carried when he dropped to one knee and proposed to the only woman I had ever looked at twice. He enjoyed stealing her from me.
He had no idea about the rage I buried. No idea
