It was Lylith. She stood in the living room wearing a white shirt and jeans.

Chuck spoke up. "Lylith just got back to the country. The problem is, good jobs won't take someone without experience. Since you're hurt, I thought hiring her to look after you would be the best move."

Lylith smiled and gave Lorrie a little wave. "Ms. Scarrow, it's really nice to meet you."

Lorrie didn't even glance at Lylith. Instead, she snapped, "We agreed to keep her out of my sight. Or did you forget?"

"Look, I've got a ton of work coming up. If Lylith's here taking care of you, at least I'll know you're safe," Chuck said.

But Lorrie wasn't fooled. She knew he wanted Lylith living under their roof.

She ignored them both and headed back to her room.

Lylith's voice followed her, filled with hurt. "What am I supposed to do? I don't think Ms. Scarrow wants me around."

Chuck reassured her. "Don't worry about it. Just help where you can. I'm the one paying you, so don't overthink it."

Before long, Chuck had a chef from a star-rated restaurant prepare a full spread, with every single one of Lylith's favorite dishes.

As Chuck piled another helping onto Lylith's plate for the tenth time, she set her fork down and said, "Honestly, the chef's skills are overrated. You know what this needs? A little more spice."

Her eyes flicked pointedly toward Lorrie.

Chuck acted like he hadn't seen a thing. "Yeah, it could use more flavor. The spice rack is in the kitchen if you want it."

"But I'm not sure where you keep it..."

Chuck spoke to Lylith in a gentle voice. "You'll get familiar with everything soon enough."

He stood and made his way to the kitchen for the spices.

The instant Chuck wasn't looking, Lylith's pleasant mask slipped, her face contorting into something ugly.

"I heard you were at the bar three days ago, too. Then you probably already know Chuck paid 100 times my usual rate to book me for the whole month. He was afraid I'd run into another drunk guy, so he bought out the entire bar. I never have to go back to work anymore."

Lorrie said nothing.

"Not talking, huh? Guess you've figured out you're just a stand-in." Lylith smirked, her voice thick with disdain.

"Chuck and I started dating when we were just 17. We lived in this tiny rental, sharing a single bed and surviving on leftover food from the restaurant. I stuck with him through his hardest years, back when his family left him with nothing and pushed him out into the world to toughen him up.

"He worked three jobs a day to afford a birthday present for me. It didn't matter if it was pouring rain or blazing sun, he'd still haul himself to work every time.

"When I caught a cold, he stayed up all night wiping me down, bringing me water, and making sure I took my medicine. Even now, all it takes is a word from me, and he'll stop what he's doing to help.

"Face it, Lorrie. Chuck only has eyes for me. He loves me more than he loves himself. You're just another nobody in his little stand-in collection. Now that I'm back, you're nothing!"

Lorrie's hands shook faintly. She used to believe that someone as proud and privileged as Chuck would seethe with hatred after Lylith left him.

She thought love could never grow where hate had taken root. But now she saw the truth—his hate ran just as deep as his love.

Lorrie steadied herself. "You're overthinking it. Honestly, I couldn't care less. It's not like I'm dying to marry Chuck or anything."

The second the words slipped out, Chuck's voice came behind her. "What did you just say, Lorrie?"

Lorrie fought the urge to snap. "It's nothing. I'm done eating. I'll be in my room."

Chuck frowned, unsure if he'd heard her correctly.

Suddenly, Lylith brought a hand to her forehead. "I think my blood sugar level is dropping again. My head's spinning, and my heart's racing."

Chuck was at her side instantly. "You haven't been taking those supplements I got you, have you? How'd you let your sugar crash again? Close your eyes for a bit. I'll take care of it."

Lorrie didn't turn around, listening as Chuck dug through the sugar bowl hurriedly.

She took her laptop to the garden, planning to send the design sketches to the company at Pavrielle.

Out of nowhere, Chuck appeared behind her and draped a jacket over her shoulders. The faint trace of a woman's perfume clung to the fabric.

Frowning, Lorrie snapped the laptop shut. "What are you doing here?"

She used to ask Chuck to walk with her in the garden, but he always refused, claiming the pollen messed with his allergies.

And now here he stood.

"It's chilly out here. I didn't want you to catch a cold—"

Suddenly, a furious barking tore through the air. A wild-eyed hound came barreling straight for Chuck.

Lorrie barely had time to process what was happening before Lylith flung herself in front of him, only to be slammed into the ground by the snarling beast.

"Lylith!"

Chuck lost it. He seized the hound by its collar and hurled it aside. Realizing it was no match for him, it whirled around and went straight for Lorrie.

Paralyzed with fear, she pleaded. "Chuck, help me..."

But he was already gone, sprinting into the distance with Lylith limp in his arms. He didn't even glance back.

Lorrie's cries drowned in the hound's barking. Helpless, she could only watch as the snarling hound lunged straight for her.

As she squeezed her eyes shut, Chuck's old promise echoed in her mind. "I've raised that hound for years. Since it scares you, I'll keep it locked up. It won't get out again."

The beast's fangs sank into her thigh. Darkness swallowed her, and she knew no more.

…

The searing pain dragged Lorrie back to reality. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital bed, with Chuck keeping watch beside her.

"You're awake." He reached for her hand. "Are you still in pain?"

Lorrie swallowed her words. The ache in her chest cut deeper than the wound in her leg.

He knew how terrified she was of dogs, how that fear had gripped her ever since one tore into her as a child. And still, he'd left her alone to face that snarling beast, caring about nothing but Lylith's safety.

"Lylith got hurt protecting me. I can't just leave her hanging after that." Chuck's voice was sincere. "But you're different. We're partners for life."

Lorrie almost laughed.

Partners for life? Please. He wouldn't blink if she dropped dead tomorrow.

Then Chuck said the words that turned her stomach.

"Lylith is anemic. The hospital doesn't have her blood type. But you're a match—"

"Over my dead body!" Lorrie yanked her hand back. "The kennel gate's always locked, so why would the hound just happen to attack you then? And why was Lylith, who's never been in charge of garden work, suddenly there? Doesn't that all seem a little too convenient to you?"

It was obvious. Lylith had let the hound loose on purpose.

Lorrie had almost died because of her, and now Chuck wasn't just playing dumb. He wanted to take Lorrie's blood for Lylith.

That wasn't happening.

Her eyes locked onto Chuck's, searching for any flicker of guilt.

"You still don't get it, do you? We're in this together. You're my fiancee. I'll spend my whole life making it up to you. And it's just a little blood. When did you start getting worked up over such a tiny thing?"

Ignoring her protests, he called the doctor and had Lorrie taken to the phlebotomy room.

The needle pierced Lorrie's vein, sending a cold ripple through her body.

Chuck badgered the doctor to hurry, claiming she couldn't handle the pain. But Lorrie knew better. His impatience wasn't for her sake. It was for Lylith's.

When it was finally over, Lorrie pressed a hand to her arm and turned, only to find Chuck, the man who'd talked her into this, already gone.

She was on her way back to rest when she passed Lylith's hospital room and saw her lying still on the bed, fast asleep.

Chuck studied Lylith's face, his fist closed around something unseen. After a pause, he carefully took her hand and pressed the object into her palm.

"Don't you die on me, Lylith. This isn't how our story ends."

Lorrie's breath caught as her eyes locked onto the cross in Lylith's hand.

That was her mother, Carol Tate's keepsake—the protective charm she'd given Lorrie on her deathbed. Carol had carried it for decades, whispering prayers over it every day.

Last year, when Chuck was jumped by robbers and almost killed, Lorrie had handed it to him for protection. And he'd kept it safe ever since, treating it like something sacred.

But now, he'd given it to Lylith—the one thing Lorrie cherished more than anything.

Lorrie trembled with fury. Every instinct screamed at her to storm inside and snatch her protective charm back, but hushed voices behind her stopped her cold.

"This is the second time Ms. Fowler's gotten hurt for Mr. Bassett, isn't it? Ten years back, when the store he worked at went up in flames, she heard him shouting for help and ran straight in to save him without a second thought."

"She suffered terrible burns, but never once complained."

"No wonder Mr. Bassett's still hung up on her. Where else would he find someone willing to die for him?"

Lorrie went completely still.

Ten years ago, she'd also saved a man in a store. She'd been passing by when she saw thick smoke billowing from the storefront and heard a man inside, coughing violently, calling for help.

Without a second thought, she'd rushed in.

The man survived, pulled from the flames just in time. But she wasn't as lucky. The burns left her needing skin grafts.

Could that man have been Chuck?

Lorrie barely noticed the walk back to the hospital room. She only snapped out of her daze when Chuck's voice cut in behind her.

"Lorrie, the doctor said they're short on beds. Your injuries aren't too bad, so I'm taking you home to rest. We should free up the space for someone who needs it more."

Lorrie stayed quiet in the car, eyes closed.

"The doctor said you might feel a little weak since you gave blood. I've got the best nutritionist lined up to help you recover," Chuck said, his voice soft.

Lorrie was just about to say no when his phone rang. Chuck answered the call.

"Mr. Bassett, Ms. Fowler is convinced that Ms. Scarrow got hurt because of her. She's refusing the blood transfusion, and no matter what we say, she won't budge."

Chuck's expression darkened. "So she'd rather throw away Lorrie's kindness?"

He slammed on the brakes and turned to Lorrie. "Lylith won't accept help if it means being in your debt. I need to talk some sense into her. It's only a few miles. You can make it back on foot, right? I'm not letting your blood go to waste for nothing."

Lorrie climbed out of the car. At this point, disappointment was nothing new to her.

The car roared off, disappearing down the road before she could blink. She had barely taken two steps toward home when a brutal gust of wind nearly sent her sprawling.

A thunderclap split the sky, sharp as a whip crack. The rain came down in sheets, soaking Lorrie to the skin in seconds as she struggled forward with her cane.

Then her vision flashed white, and her legs gave way beneath her. But the icy sting of the rain kept her from fading completely into the dark.

Lorrie didn't know if the wetness on her cheeks was tears or rain.

The estate was deep in the suburbs, far beyond where cabs would go. With nothing left but sheer will, she inched her way home. Hours had passed since she'd left Chuck's car.

Soaked to the bone and utterly spent, she collapsed onto the couch and fell into a dead sleep. When she woke, the world outside was dark.

Still groggy, Lorrie groped for her phone and called Chuck repeatedly, but no one picked up. Then, on the last try, the line finally connected, and the voice on the other end sent a jolt through her.

"So you're not going home tonight? But Lorrie's still hurt. You—"