Have you ever felt as if your heart simply stopped beating? For a second, just half a breath, your heart simply stops. I’m certain that’s what I’m feeling now that Dillon is gone. It’s as if every reason I’ve found for living has been ripped out from under me.

The tears continue to fall for some time, even as the nurse steps in to check on me. I know she would like nothing more than for me to leave, but what she doesn’t know is that my future lays in shattered pieces before me. Judging by the sympathy in her eyes, however, maybe she knows more than she lets on.

Allowing her to help me off the examination table, I wrap Dillon’s robe more tightly around myself. His scent clings to every fiber in the cursed thing, and I want nothing more than to throw it in the nearest dumpster. No, that’s not true. I can think of several things I want more than to be rid of my final reminder of the man I love…

Shuddering, I make my way out of the doctor’s office, though I have no idea where to go from here. The obvious answer is my apartment, the rent for which Dillon has paid for the past few months. In case I need an escape of some sort, apparently.

How did we fall from such heights to this pit of despair? Had he meant what he’d said? Does he not feel anything for me? I find that I can’t cease the tears that spill down my cheeks, even as I walk down the sidewalk in the direction of my apartment.

Dillon has left me with no money, without a damn thing, except for the robe I’m wearing. I know I must look like a crazy woman walking down the city sidewalks in a silk robe and pajamas. Hell, I’ve not even had the opportunity to change out of the bedroom shoes I’m wearing.

There’s no denying that he has made his feelings more clear than ever. If the venom we spewed at each other hasn’t made things clear enough, the fact that he’s abandoned me certainly does. At the very least, he could have seen me home. When I lashed out at him, I never expected it to be our final conversation.

I should have been kinder. I should call him…

No, no I shouldn’t. I’m not the sort of woman who depends on others. I was foolish to think I could trust Dillon Bradshaw, especially after his first instance of entirely ruining my life. I wish I could just free my mind of those gorgeous eyes of his, the perfect angle of his jaw, the way he feels inside of me.

God, please just let me forget.

As much as I want it all to end, I know that I have a reason to go on. Three reasons, specifically. While they may serve as a painful reminder of what I’ve lost, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m grateful to still carry some piece of him with me.

I’ll have a part of Dillon Bradshaw with me for the rest of my life, it seems. He’s made it very clear that he wants no part of the triplets’ lives. They’ll never know their father. They can never know what a fool their mother is.

Hiccuping, I’m grateful to realize I’ve already made it home. While it feels like I’m something of a cosmic joke at this rate, at the very least, I still have an apartment to return to. Walking up the stairs to my floor is exhausting with all the extra weight I’m carrying, but it’s not as if I can simply give up and collapse on the staircase.

Sweat mingles with my tears as I stumble over the final step onto my floor.

Approaching my front door, I realize with a start that I don’t even have a key on me. Bursting into a mix of hysterical laughter and tears, I sag against the wall. Things can’t get any worse, and it doesn’t seem as if things will be improving any time soon.

The sound of a door opening jolts me to attention, and I’m startled to realize it’s my own door.

“Charlotte?” a familiar voice asks, sounding almost fearful. “Are you okay?” the voice continues, and I gasp as a familiar face peers around my door.

My sister, my darling sister, Jenny, steps out of my apartment and approaches me warily. I suddenly remember she’s been due to come visit me from Australia, where she and my parents live, but I didn’t realize the date had come so soon—time seems to have slipped away while I’ve been with Dillon.

Seeming to finally notice the poor shape I’m in, Jenny lurches towards me, gathering me in her arms. Her eyes bulge as she notices the baby bump, and I bury my face in my twin’s shoulder as I try to think of how to explain myself.

“Can we go inside? It’s a long story,” I murmur, smiling weakly as my sister helps me inside my apartment.

It looks as if it’s been meticulously cleaned, which is pretty normal for Jenny’s visits. She hadn’t even realized the apartment wasn’t lived in. For the work I do cleaning other people’s homes, it’s laughable how messy I allow my own to become.

I begin to giggle under my breath, collapsing onto my half-broken couch. Jenny stares at me with a raised brow, sitting beside me.

“You seem to have been through a lot,” she says simply.

The humor drains from me almost immediately, and I’m suddenly crying again. Damn these pregnancy hormones. In spite of the embarrassment, I manage to detail the situation to my sister. How I’d met Dillon, how I’d planned to ruin him upon our second meeting, to where I became a surrogate for his children. I leave out the part where I’m still head over heels in love with him, seeing as it’s rather obvious.

Jenny strokes a hand soothingly through my hair, and I lean against her side. The tears continue to spill, but it’s a relief to have a familiar face nearby.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t even afford to take care of myself. How in the world am I going to take care of triplets?” I cry, looking to her through tearful eyes.

She considers me thoughtfully, rising to her feet and heading towards my bedroom.

“I’m grabbing you some clothes to change into. I have an idea I want to run by you, but you need to pull yourself together a bit,” she calls out, no-nonsense as ever, returning moments later with a T-shirt and jeans.

I stare blankly at the clothes, glancing to my sister and gesturing to my stomach.

“Ugh. I hate to ask, but do you have one of his shirts here, somewhere?” she asks.

Hesitating for a moment, I nod and shuffle to grab one I’d worn home after one of my early sexual experiences with the billionaire.

“Seems I can’t escape him…” I mumble as I get dressed.

My sister hums absently to acknowledge me, and I glance over to see her swiping her thumb across a cellphone screen. My cellphone screen! I lurch towards her, but by the vaguely amused expression on her face, I can tell the damage has been done.

“Certainly not. Why didn’t you have this with you?” Jenny asks, tossing the phone towards me.

A rather lewd picture of Dillon and me is displayed, and I shoot my sister a dirty look before tucking my phone into my pocket.

“I left it here a few nights ago, and never came back for it. Dillon’s the only one who has been messaging or calling me, anyway,” I say snidely, allowing the implication to hang in the air.

Jenny looks vaguely offended, but it quickly fades to a more abashed look.

“Well…I’m here now, aren’t I?” she huffs.

Unable to stop myself from smiling, I step towards her and pull her into my arms.

“You are, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Your twin senses must have gone off,” I tease. “So, what’s this big idea you have? Selling myself to fetish nudie magazines?” I continue, nudging her with an elbow.

Jenny barks out a laugh, shaking her head slowly.

“Not quite. I have a reporter friend who would be rather interested in your story, not to mention those photos…” she begins. I begin to sputter indignantly, but she cuts me off. “Before you say no, actually think about it! You’d get a big payout, and you’d finally get back at that bastard billionaire for all he’s done to you,” she explains, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I hesitate, considering whether I really want to sell my story. It would be nice to get back at the man who broke my heart but…do I really want to hurt him so deeply?

Admittedly, I need some means of making a paycheck. The payout for my story won’t last forever, but it will help me get by until I get another job. Nodding slowly, I allow my sister to lead me to my computer. She boots it up, logging into her own email account and typing out a message to a name I immediately recognize.

“Yasmin? Yasmin Bates? She works for the most popular gossip mag in the city,” I blurt.

Jenny smiles knowingly, clicking on her inbox as she receives a reply almost immediately.

“Yes, and she stands to make a good chunk of change from your story. She’s already replied, letting me know she’s interested. What should I tell her?” she asks.

I grab my phone, adding Yasmin’s email address to my contacts and forwarding the photos to her. My sister gasps before bursting into almost hysterical laughter. The computer dings, and my sister clicks the message she has received.

“What does she think?” I ask with a sly curl of my lips.

“She says she’ll do the job of blacking out your face, but next time you might want to do that ahead of time. Message her the details, and she’ll start working on your story. She also wants to know where you would like the money transferred,” she paraphrases.

I give slight pause, glancing at the message to see how much money I stand to make. My mouth falls open in shock. While it’s no million dollars, it’ll do the job just fine.

“Tell her I’ll come pick up the check whenever it’s convenient for her,” I say urgently.

“Oh, dear sister. You’re looking at a cash payout, here.” Jenny grins.

She types out the message, pressing send before stepping away from the computer.

“Come on. I’ll take you out for lunch, and we can go to the mall to grab a few maternity outfits. As funny as it is to see your jeans hanging under your stomach, I can’t stand to see that scumbag’s shirt on you,” Jenny says.

Nodding obligingly, I follow her out to her car.

Lunch is a quick and simple affair, and we only spend around an hour at the maternity boutique. It will be a few days before my payout is ready, but Jenny is kind enough to buy me a few things to get started. She talks the cashier into letting me wear my new clothes out, and as we step out of the building, I hesitate as she gestures towards a large trash can.

“Throw the shirt away. I don’t think we can burn it in city limits, so I guess it’s the next best thing,” she instructs me with a cheeky grin.

The thought of throwing away Dillon’s shirt sends an unwelcome pang through my heart, but I can’t allow my feelings for him to drag on any more. I don’t plan to let the billionaire haunt my thoughts forever. Approaching the bin, I open the lid before tossing the shirt inside. Jenny cheers, but I feel strangely empty.

“I think I’m ready to go back to my apartment. I’m pretty tired out,” I say quietly, and if she senses the sudden change in my mood, she doesn’t make a big deal of it.

My twin simply takes me by the arm, guiding me to her car. She’s kind enough to help me up the stairs, pressing a kiss to my cheek as we stand just outside my apartment.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? I’ll take you to pick up your check, too. Looks like your car is pretty much a lemon, now.” She smiles, brushing a hand through my hair.

I try not to appear as emotional as I feel, though it is something of a struggle. My sister lingers a moment longer before slipping away. As soon as I’m in my apartment, I fumble to grab my phone out of my pocket. I bring up Yasmin’s email address, sending her a frantic, desperate message.

Exploiting the story is bad enough, but I feel even worse releasing Dillon’s nude pictures to the public. Call me soft, but I don’t want to see him ruined entirely. I’m also not too thrilled about the nation’s women seeing his well-sculpted body that I still long to stake claim on.

Yasmin’s response is swift, but distressing. Apparently, the photos have already been submitted to her superior, or something. Though I have a feeling she could stop them from being printed, I realize she’s not willing to lose the big bucks she stands to make.

Well, ultimately, it serves Dillon right, after what he’s put me through.

Right?