The Girl Who Stole My Boyfriend Is About to Marry a Billionaire, So I Stole the Billionaire novel · Chapter 11 of 16

Chapter 11: The Piano Bench

By Tuesday morning there was a second video.

Me being walked out of my building by two detectives, in my sweatshirt, with my neighbor's bathrobe in the corner of the frame.

"Hotel stalker ARRESTED for stealing from Slattery heiress."

I wasn't arrested.

Nobody cared.

Under it was a photo of Lucian and Bianca leaving the precinct arm in arm.

The comments under that one said things like, "He came to his senses," and, "Imagine thinking you could compete with THAT."

The real comments, the gold ones, didn't come back.

I looked for them everywhere.

Over the stove. Over the window. Over my own face in the bathroom mirror.

Nothing.

I had been living inside someone else's book for ten days, and now I didn't even have the book.

Margo didn't text.

Lucian didn't text.

His jacket stayed on my chair, and I didn't move it.

On Wednesday night, Jake called.

I picked up because I wanted to hear what he'd say.

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