Sanders didn't look at her, just let go of her and walked out of the kitchen. Tate stood there, feeling like a small piece of her had died. She never wanted to hurt Sanders. Life wasn't fair. How come Jameson wasn't ever the one shaking and crying?

Sanders loaded her luggage up into the Bentley, then left the car parked across from the porch. She wasn't going to run away in the middle of the night, not again. She would say goodbye to the devil, see him face to face. If she didn't die of a heart attack, first.

Tate was collecting things out of the library when she heard the Jaguar pull up into the driveway, its tires spinning in the loose pebbles. She was holding onto the Cartier necklace, the one Jameson had secretly bought for her at Nick's auction. A sweet gesture, but just another way to buy her. Stupid man, he had gotten her for free, and he had never even realized it. She was looking over the pearls when the library door burst open with such force, she jumped as it banged off of a wall.

“Did you think I wouldn't find out!?” Jameson yelled at her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, a little shocked. Sure, she had seen him angry. He snapped at her on a regular basis, it was one of their things. But rarely did he yell. He stalked towards her and she skittered away, got penned in between him and the back of the couch.

“You used my credit card. What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled, looming over her.

Oops. I thought I'd have more time. Does he check his online statements every day!?

“I paid you back. I already deposited the cash into your bank account. I don't have a card, I had to -,” Tate started to explain.

“I don't give a fuck about the money!” he shouted, and she shrieked in surprise. “You could spend all my money, and I wouldn't give a fuck! All you have to do is ask! But you cannot use it to run away to him!”

“But I paid it back,” she stressed. Jameson moved to get closer to her and she slid to the side, heading towards the door. He grabbed her hand, his fingers tangling in the necklace she was still clinging to.

“That you used it without my knowledge, that you used it to get away from me, that you used it to fly to him ..., I don't even know where to start,” he hissed. She tried to pull away.

“It's not a big deal, Jameson,” she insisted. He yanked on her arm and she stumbled forward.

“Apparently it's a big fucking deal, if you feel like you have to lie to me! Sneaking around this house like a fucking shadow! I'm surprised you're even taking this!” he yelled, holding up her hand with the pearls in it. “Of course, you used me for my money. I suppose it's not a leap to assume you'd use my gifts. It is worth a lot of money, you could get far on it.”

“I wasn't going to take them!” Tate shouted back, offended that he thought she would use him like that – he was the one who equated everything with a price, not her.

“Sure fucking looks like it! But by all means, go ahead, you certainly earned them!” he snapped. Tate gasped.

“Fuck you, Kane!” she hissed, then she gripped the necklace between both hands and yanked. Pearls flew around the room.

“Lost out on a lot of money, baby girl. Your boyfriend certainly won't be able to pay for you the way I have,” Jameson said softly.

She was out on the porch before he caught up with her. Tate halfway expected him to grab her, to pick her up and carry her inside. But he didn't. He hurried down the steps alongside her, matching her step for step as she headed towards the cars.

“Just let me go,” she insisted, walking next to the Jag. He finally grabbed her, pulled her to a stop.

“We are long past that. So what happened to promises, huh? You won't freak out, right? Wrong. I knew you'd fucking do this. The minute shit gets real, you fucking flip. Have you ever stuck anything out? Ever given anyone the benefit of the doubt?” he demanded. She slapped at his arm.

“Sure, when they're not the goddamn devil!” she yelled back.

“I am not the devil! If anyone here is the devil, it's you! You lied to me! You goddamn liar!” Jameson shouted. Tate got up in his face.

“You lied first! Such sweet words, 'only you, Tatum. It was only ever you',” she mocked him. “Hadn't slept with a soul, you were 'waiting for' me. Bullshit.”

“I never lied, but what about you? You said Nick was nothing, that there was no relationship, yet you always call on him, don't you? Looks real fucking suspicious,” he snapped. She steeled her nerves, willed away the tears.

“Your lies are worse,” she hissed. “Why don't you just go be with her!? You obviously can't stay away from each other.”

“I wasn't with her. I don't want her. I want you,” he replied through clenched teeth. She shook her head.

“Well, too bad, cause I don't want you,” she told him.

“Don't lie to me, Tatum.”

“I'm not. It was always just fun, wasn't it? It's not a big deal, we can just -,”

“Stop lying.”

“It's just sex! You don't even give a fuck, you couldn't care if I -,”

Jameson let out a shout and slammed the side of his fist against the car window. It shattered and Tate shrieked, throwing her hands up. Blood ran down the side of his palm, dripping onto the ground, but he looked like he didn't even notice. He stared down at her, his eyes on fire.

“Stop. Fucking. Lying,” he growled. She glared up at him.