Mia said quietly, “No, it wasn’t overhearing them speak about women and sex. It was more, wasn’t it? It was personal. They roofied you, too, didn’t they? Alex Harrington, your own fiancé, and his best friend, Kent? The man you thought loved you, raped you along with his best friend? Is that why you broke it off, Juliet?”

A shudder went through her body. Then she squared her shoulders, looked Mia in the eye. “You can never write about this.”

“Of course not. Please, tell me, help me.”

Juliet still looked uncertain, perhaps afraid. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Very well.” Again, she paused and Mia could tell the memory still slammed her with incalculable pain. “All right, I woke up one morning and I felt hungover, from the wine I’d drunk the night before, I thought. I wanted to blame the alcohol for the soreness, too, the hazy memories I had after drinking it. Then I began to remember and I clearly saw both Alex and Kent in my bedroom with me, not here, in my bedroom at my cottage. Both of them. At first I simply couldn’t accept it. Both Alex and Kent in my bedroom? How could that be? But then I remembered hearing them talk and laugh, and I saw them over me and now they were talking about what each of them wanted to do, and what order would be most fun—” Her voice fell off a cliff.

Juliet swallowed. “Regardless, you can’t write that, Ms. Briscoe, there’s no proof. There was never any proof and there never will be.”

Mia said, “You’ve lived with this for two years.”

“Yes, every single day for two years.”

Mia said nothing, watched Juliet pace the length of an exquisite antique Tabriz carpet.

“Did you accuse him, Juliet? Or was it you couldn’t hide your rage, so Alex guessed you knew anyway? I bet that gave both Kent and Alex a few sleepless nights.”

Juliet jerked around. “I did tell Alex, in this very room. Do you know he never missed a beat? He tried to hug me, but I stepped back. He tried to soothe me, he told me I’d had a bad dream, that what I believed I remembered was ridiculous. We were going to be married. He loved me, but I knew him well enough to know he was lying, and he knew me well enough to know I knew it. He flushed, and his eyes darkened, and I realized he could hurt me. I was glad I met him here, my parents upstairs, and I wasn’t alone with him. I told him I never wanted to see him again, threw my engagement ring back at him. He told me I was a fool and he left. Since that day I haven’t spoken to either Alex or Kent.”