My fiancee was diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant.

When I found out I'm a match, I agreed to undergo the surgery without a second thought.

They removed two-thirds of my liver. The pain is excruciating, but the moment I wake up, I force myself to check on her.

Outside her hospital room, I overhear her talking to a friend.

"Trish, you're a genius! This revenge plan is brilliant!" her friend exclaims.

Patricia Zeller laughs.

"If I weren't trying to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. It's all his fault that Warren messed up his college entrance exam and had to study abroad. Warren's coming back in a month. Once he does, I'm done with him for good."

I caught a glimpse of Patricia Zeller through the crack in the door. At that moment, she was sitting on the bed. Her cheeks were flushed with color, looking nothing like someone who was supposed to be ill.

Meanwhile, her friends were chattering away, voices buzzing with excitement.

"Trish, remember freshman year? You paid someone to mess with Bradley, and he was ostracized by the entire class. He couldn't even go back to his dorm for a month," one of them said.

Another chimed in, "And during senior year, you had someone wipe his final project. That cost Paul Jenner his honors award. In the end, Bradley got jumped in an empty classroom and walked out with a broken arm.

"This one makes 93. Just six more times, and you'll have enough to put together a scrapbook of love letters for Warren. He'll be so moved by how far you've gone for him!"

A wave of nausea twisted in my gut. I had never imagined that the love I thought was meant to be was nothing but a carefully planned revenge.

Panicked, I turned to leave. But I was still too weak from surgery.

I stumbled and then collapsed to the floor, the impact ripping open my stitches. Blood soaked through my gown almost instantly.

I had never been in great health. The doctors had warned me again and again not to go through with the liver transplant.

But I had been desperate to help Patricia recover, so I ignored everything and went through with the surgery.

This was the hospital's most exclusive ICU ward, and the hallway had been cleared to give Patricia peace and quiet. There wasn't a soul in sight.

So, the sound of my fall immediately drew attention.

Patricia's expression changed the instant she saw me.

"Bradley? You just had surgery. What are you doing here?"

Before I could answer, she shoved the person next to her and barked, "Go help him! Get him over here and tend to his wound!"

At her command, everyone rushed over. Their hands fumbled as they tried to lift me. Then, they placed me beside her.

Patricia cupped my face, her expression full of concern. Reaching for the antiseptic on the table, she said softly, "The doctor's still finishing up the post-op. Let me clean the wound first, okay? He'll redo the bandage properly once he's done."

Her voice was as gentle as ever. And if I looked close enough, there was guilt and pity in her eyes. But I knew it was all just an act.

It wasn't until today that I finally learned the truth.

Patricia had turned me down for three years, then confessed the day after the college entrance exam scores were released. Turns out, she was just avenging her first love, Warren Reeves.

Yet, I had been stupid enough to believe my sincerity had finally gotten through to her. Even knowing she once loved Warren deeply, I still gave her everything I had.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth as the sharp pain from my reopened incision tore through me.

Right then, Patricia tore off the bandage and poured the antiseptic straight onto my wound.

The searing burn hit instantly. I screamed in pain before shoving her away on instinct.

Her lower back slammed into the bedrail, and she gasped. A beat later, she kicked me hard enough to send me tumbling off the bed.

I clutched my wound and writhed on the floor, groaning.

That was when the on-call doctor finally showed up. Seeing the state I was in, the staff rushed to examine me.

The moment he touched the corroded skin, the doctor's eyes widened in alarm. "What did you do to him? These are chemical burns from concentrated sodium hydroxide!"

"What?" Patricia gasped. "That's impossible!"

Right on cue, she put on a look of shock. Then, she turned to the table, her voice full of horror as she said, "I ordered antiseptic and disinfectant online. I just wanted to prevent infection after the surgery.

"When I saw Bradley bleeding, I panicked. I didn't even read the label…"

She turned to me quickly. "I'm so sorry, darling. This is all my fault. I hurt you again!"

After saying that, she started beating her chest like she was overwhelmed with guilt. But if she really cared about me, she wouldn't have kicked me off the bed like that.

I stayed silent as they lifted me onto the stretcher and wheeled me away.

While waiting for the elevator, I heard cheers erupt from Patricia's room.

One chirped, "Trish, you're a genius! You actually knew that dumbass Bradley would come check on you, and you switched the antiseptic with sodium hydroxide. That loser is probably going to have permanent scars!"

"Did you see the state he was in? He looked like some pathetic mess. I thought I'd die laughing!" another cackled.

My hands clenched into fists. I had known the truth deep down, but hearing it out loud still gutted me.

…

After the doctor left, I grabbed my phone and quickly booked a stay at a rehabilitation center.

Then, I dialed the number I knew all too well—the one overseas.

"Mom, I've made up my mind. I'm coming home."

After spending two weeks at the rehabilitation center, I had more or less recovered, though barely.

During that time, Patricia didn't reach out, except for one call right at the start.

The day my mom and I agreed on was drawing closer. Despite still being weak, I forced myself to go home and pack.

But the moment I opened the door, I found Patricia hosting a party with her friends. Everyone froze as soon as they saw me.

A flicker of alarm crossed Patricia's face. She instinctively stepped forward, frowning as she addressed me, "Bradley, I've been trying to reach you. Why haven't you answered?"

My gaze, however, landed on the man she was standing in front of. It was none other than her first love, Warren.

Noticing that I was glaring at him, Patricia shifted uncomfortably before explaining, "Warren came back earlier than expected. Since I just had surgery, I couldn't make a big deal out of it. So, we're just keeping it simple at home."

Then, she shot me a look. "You're not seriously going to sulk over something this trivial, are you?"

My hands curled into fists.

Patricia and I had been together for five years, and I had always been bothered by her past with Warren. Whenever she brought him up, it got under my skin. I'd end up asking her who really mattered more.

But now, I didn't care.

I nodded slightly. "Welcome back. You guys carry on. I just came to grab a few things."

Patricia frowned at my indifference.

She used to mention Warren on purpose just to see me unravel. I'd completely lose it, not even caring how I looked.

Yet, I was far too composed now.

As I turned to leave, Warren spoke up. There was a wounded edge to his voice as he said, "Bradley, I've already let go of what happened back then. Why are you still being so cold? Can't you stay and celebrate with us?"

Patricia couldn't bear to see him upset. The moment he said that, she rushed over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to the table.

"Warren said he's not mad at you. So, quit sulking and keep him company."

No sooner had I taken a seat than her friends swarmed in.

"Brad, let's see some sincerity. Bottoms up!"

Looking at their smug smiles, I couldn't help but scoff inside. They knew I'd just had part of my liver removed, yet they still brought out the booze. Wasn't that a bit too much?

It was laughable now, but back then, I didn't suspect a thing. I genuinely thought they were happy for me.

I pushed the glass away. "My doctor said I can't drink."

"Oh, come on! Just a little won't hurt!"

With that, a few of them grabbed my arm and forced the drink down my throat.

I choked and started coughing violently. I staggered back, but someone shoved me hard. In the next second, I fell face-first into the cake.

Sticky frosting clogged my nose and mouth. I could barely breathe, yet the room exploded with shrill laughter.

When I finally pushed myself upright, my face was drenched and burning with pain. Squinting through the mess, I spotted a row of metal spikes sticking out of what should've been a fluffy cake.

Meanwhile, Warren was laughing so hard he could barely stay upright.

One of the women looked at me without a hint of guilt. "Oops! Sorry, Brad. The frosting was too soft, so I asked them to add some support. Who knew you'd face-plant into it like a starving man?"

Nearby, someone muttered, "Loser."

At that, the rest of them pounded the table and howled with laughter.

I scraped the frosting from my face, fury boiling just beneath the surface. Without another word, I turned to leave.

But even then, Warren refused to let me go. He grabbed a fistful of my hair as his eyes gleamed with sick delight.

"Bradley's getting all moody. Let's help him wash his face before he runs off crying to Patricia," he said while waving to the others.

Everyone agreed without hesitation, grinning as they lunged at me.

In an instant, terror crashed over me like a tidal wave.

When I was little, I was kidnapped. I had cried too loudly, so they held my head underwater. I almost died, and since then, I've had a deep-rooted fear of water.

No matter how hard I fought back, Warren shoved me toward the kitchen anyway.

Almost immediately, he slammed my head into the sink. Ice-cold water pounded down, and I let out a cry.

The others pinned my arms behind me, laughing like it was a joke.

"Scrub him clean! Trash like him doesn't belong here!"

I had been suffocating too long, and my consciousness was slipping.

Patricia had been watching from the sidelines. But just as I was about to black out, she yelled, "That's enough!"

Her voice cut through the chaos. The others immediately let go of me.

She stepped up beside me, then gently brushed the wet hair from my face. "I'm sorry, Bradley. You must be terrified."

But I pushed her hands away when she reached for me. My voice came out raw as I said, "I'm fine."

Ignoring the pain on her face, I turned and walked to the bedroom.

Outside, the others started grumbling. "It's just a joke, Trish. Since when can't you take a little teasing?"

"Bradley has been terrified of water since he was a kid. How could you joke about that?"

Patricia's voice dropped, struggling to keep her anger in check.

Someone replied casually, "Just think of it as another payback. Warren's back now. Don't you want to be with him already? After everything else you've done, what's one more?"

Those words sent Patricia over the edge. She kicked the table hard and snapped, "He just got out of surgery! What if you tear his wounds open?"

Warren's expression darkened the moment she finished speaking. He stared her down, then said quietly, "Patricia, it's only been four years. Did you really move on that fast?"

Without thinking, Patricia blurted, "No! I've only ever loved you. That's never going to change!"

The crowd burst into cheers and teasing laughter right away.

"Warren and Patricia were always supposed to be together. If Bradley hadn't gotten in the way, they would've been a thing years ago," one commented.

Another added, "He's got no shame! We need to teach him a lesson he won't forget! Make sure he knows what goes around comes around."

"Back then, he set Warren up for that car crash. Warren missed his chance at the art college audition after breaking his legs. If we really want justice, we should break his legs too!"

Everyone jumped in, one after the other.

However, Patricia's expression changed drastically. "No. Bradley's body can't take another hit like that."

All at once, silence enveloped the room.

A beat later, Warren spoke, his voice low and bitter. "Patricia, you told me the only reason you got together with him was to get revenge for what he did to me.

"I'm back now, so why are you still protecting him? You saw how badly injured I was back then. All I'm asking for is fairness. Why is that too much?"

Panic flickered across Patricia's face. Then, she quickly wrapped her arms around Warren and kissed him.

She held his gaze for a long moment before speaking, her voice hoarse. "Don't take it too far. I don't want to owe him anything."

My chest tightened as I listened to every word. To make Warren happy, Patricia was willing to sacrifice my life.

If that were the case, she couldn't blame me for getting even.

So, I pulled out my phone and sent my mom a text.

Once the discussion was over, the others left, talking and laughing among themselves.

Moments later, Patricia opened the bedroom door and sat down beside me. I was curled up under the sheets, pale and silent.

Maybe the sight made her feel something, because she leaned in to kiss me. But I pushed her away.

Her hands froze mid-air.

"Bradley, I'm sorry you had to go through all that today. I made a reservation for that restaurant you've always wanted to try. Be there at noon tomorrow, okay?" she said with a gentle smile.

My heart felt hollow, and I simply gave a quiet hum in reply.

…

The next morning, Patricia claimed she had a follow-up at the hospital and told me to head to the restaurant first.

As I took the keys from her, I asked quietly, "Patricia, if you had another chance, would you still choose me?"

A hint of reluctance flickered in her eyes. Even so, she smiled and ruffled my hair. "Don't overthink it. You've always been the one I loved and the only one I ever will."

I stared at her retreating figure, a faint smile tugging at my lips. That was the last chance I'd give her.

…

I walked into the garage, got in the car, and started it quietly.

Then, I drove out of the neighborhood and hit the highway, letting the GPS guide me. Cars on this stretch never went below 100 miles per hour.

Meanwhile, Patricia and her friends stood in a villa they had rented just for this. Binoculars in hand, they watched my car from a distance.

There was a sharp turn just before I reached my destination. The car should've slowed down, but instead, it picked up speed. The tires screeched against the road, the sound sharp and grating.

The hidden mic inside the car picked up my screams and relayed them live.

"What's happening? The car's out of control! Patricia, where are you? I'm scared! I don't want to die!"

Everyone in the villa was like predators closing in on prey, laughing as my panicked screams came through.

They watched as the car lost control and slammed into the guardrail. With a deafening crash, the frame crumpled. Then, everything went still.

Patricia was the first to start clapping. "As soon as he calls me, I'm telling him we're done."

Suddenly, something happened. Smoke billowed from the front of the car, then fire shot up without warning.

The car exploded right before their eyes, leaving nothing but wreckage behind.