Chapter 3: Childhood Sins, Adult Consequences

He was still smiling, but his eyes could’ve burned a hole through steel. It was the look of someone who’d just found the smoking gun.

Last time I saw that much fury was front row at "Betrayal: The Musical," when the wife confronts her cheating husband. Dad’s ex thought it’d be fun—she was wrong.

Who told the Northern State to send all those heartbreakers? I was just building diplomatic bridges—with stones and slaps.

But Marcus was ready to start a war.

"Even if the stones weren’t unique, some memories are just ours," I tried, grabbing his hand. His palm was warm, rough from riding and shooting.

"Remember when the evil security guard pushed you in the pool? I held on and didn’t let go—"

He pulled away. "That was Derek."

Strike one. I grabbed his other hand. "The year my brother forced you to perform in the rain—I slapped him five times to save you!"

He clasped my hand. "That was me. But you only slapped your brother twice. The other three landed on me."

Dead. I was so dead.

He tightened his grip, Yale ring digging in. "Back then, you said I belonged to you, could only perform for you. Performing for others was disloyalty."

He patted his left cheek. "Those three slaps made sure I never forgot. ‘I… belong… to… you.’"

I was doomed.

"How about… you give me three slaps back?" I leaned in, bracing for impact.

He raised his hand, the ring flashing.

"Wait!" I turned my left cheek. "That side’s less pretty."

He raised his hand again. "Wait!" I yanked off the ring. "No weapons."

Third time—he didn’t stop. His palm whooshed toward me.

"Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed like a horror movie extra.

After a long minute, Emma poked me. "Miss, stop screaming—he’s gone."

I opened my eyes. He’d only flicked my forehead. The table of stones remained—except one. Marcus kept it.