“What? Why are we even continuing this discussion, Corey?” she shrieked. “Why are we talking about this in front of—”
And just like that, Lola knew. She knew exactly why Corey was continuing this discussion with her in front of me.
She shot off the chair. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she screeched. “With her, Corey? The fucking foster girl? Wow, and I thought finding out about the stripper you fucked in Vegas was bad, but this? This is an all-time low for you, honey! I mean, really!”
Lola stumbled sideways. What? What did she mean, the stripper in Vegas? I was Corey’s first affair. And what did he know about the wreck? Did Lola tell him about it? Had he always known she’d done that?
“Lola—” Corey reached for her hand, but she jerked away from him and shook her head.
“Fuck both of you,” she seethed, and then she stomped to me. “Especially you, Ivy. You low-down, dirty slut. Keke was right about you. You’re a psychotic, thirsty bitch.”
Lola stormed away, rushing into the house and through the kitchen. “Georgia, get me another drink!” Lola shouted. “Now!”
When she was gone, I turned my attention on Corey. “What did she mean about the stripper in Vegas?” I asked. “And the—the wreck? What did you mean, the wreck?”
“Not now, Ivy,” Corey muttered, putting down his glass on a nearby table and rubbing his forehead.
“Yes, now, Corey! How many people have you slept with? You told me I was your first affair!”
“Well, I fucking lied, Ivy! You aren’t my first fucking affair!” he bellowed. “I mean, did you really think I would risk my entire marriage over a girl like you? You have nothing to offer me but your body! I was fine with that before, but seeing how naïve you are now is making me reconsider a lot of shit!”
I felt like I’d been shot in the heart. He’d lied to me. I’d forgiven him for what he’d done before. He’d snaked his hands around my throat and choked me, tried to get me to be a woman I hated, and I forgave him, but this lie was much worse.
He made me feel special. He made me think I was important to him, but what was this? I was just a pawn in his game—his way out of a bad marriage. He . . . used me, just like everyone else in my life.
“The wreck,” I said. “You knew Lola did that? That she killed the Hills?”
“What? What the hell do you know about that?” he asked, glaring.
“Those people were my fucking parents!” I screamed. “And she killed them! She ruined my life and you went along with it! You’re just as bad as she is!”
Corey seemed confused. I didn’t care. I was pissed. I saw red, Marriot. Red. I couldn’t think straight. Could hardly breathe. The sun felt too bright and my belly was in knots. I wanted to vomit. Then I wanted to kill him.
I charged toward him with a foreign scream leaving my lungs, slapping him right on the face and then shoving him into the pool. When he was in the water, I jumped in too and pounced on top of him, forcing his head down in the water.
I refused to let up, blinded by rage. I wanted to kill Corey for breaking my goddamn heart. For staying with Lola even after knowing she’d covered up a bloody trail.
And then I heard a scream—a scream so loud it pierced my eardrums.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I looked to my left, noticing Georgia standing in the kitchen. One of her hands was cupping her mouth, the other trembling as she reached for something on the floor. She was petrified.
I released Corey and stared down at him. He was still facedown in the water.
“Corey! Get up!” I snapped.
But he didn’t get up. I tugged on his arm, but he didn’t budge. “Corey!” I screamed, panicking now. Why wasn’t he getting up?
I panicked.
I flipped him over and his lips were blue, his eyes closed. Blood was trickling from his nose. “Oh!” I screamed. “Oh fuck!” My heart was practically beating out of my chest. I splashed away from him and ran to the steps to get out of the pool. Water dripped from me as I ran for the house, my throat thick and my vision blurry.
What the hell was going on? What had I done?
I ran hard and fast in my sandals, but I didn’t make it far into the kitchen. I slipped on something wet—the water from the pool on my feet, I assumed—but when I hit the floor with a heavy smack, I realized it wasn’t water I’d fallen into at all.
Crimson liquid stained my palms, my clothes.
It was blood.
And not just any blood. Lola’s blood.
She was belly down on the floor, her head turned sideways. Blood was oozing out of her nose, her mouth parted, blood trickling over her pale blue lips. Her skin was blue too, just like Corey’s. Her dress was stained in dark, dark red.