Three years back, a crash wrecked Rhea's hearing—and the future she'd built her life around.

At her lowest point, Eddie stayed by her side like a hero, pulling her out of the shadows.

But the second she got her hearing back and thought she could finally tell him... she heard the truth: he'd planned the whole thing. For his beloved. So she could win.

Yeah, he was already engaged. To that girl.

Rhea didn't cry. Didn't scream. Just picked up her phone.

"Grandpa, I'm ready. I'm taking back the Cliburn name. And I'm entering the international piano competition as your heir."

"If this deaf girl finds out you're engaged to Glenna, and that you trashed her hearing just so Glenna could win—think she'd still be playing the obedient girlfriend?"

Rhea Smith froze, birthday gift still in her hands.

Today was Eddie Bowie's birthday. She'd planned a surprise. Instead, his friend's voice cracked everything wide open.

Three years ago, a crash stole her hearing.

Eddie learned sign language for her.

He became her whole world.

Now her hearing was back—and everything felt fake.

"Keep it down..." someone muttered.

Eddie pulled her in. "She can't hear."

Rick Hedd didn't bother lowering his voice. "Exactly. She's deaf. I get it if you're just messing around. Even if Glenna bailed on you before, she came crawling back. You two are engaged now. Time to drop the deaf girl."

Eddie paused. "She'll never find out. Not if I don't want her to."

Rick blinked. "Wait, seriously? You still wanna be with her? Don't tell me you actually fell for her."

Eddie gave him a look. "Rhea's done a lot for me. Back when I had nothing, she was there. She loves me. I can't just toss that away. And the engagement with Glenna? That's for her family. If they go broke, I'm not letting her sink. It's not about love."

Rick scoffed. "Could've fooled me. If you cared for even a little, what you did to Rhea was brutal."

Eddie stayed quiet. Turned to Rhea and signed, [Hungry? Want something to eat?]

A chill shot through her. Her lips twitched.

No way.

He was still wearing that same soft smile—like none of it ever happened.

Was this some kind of joke?

Liar.

Engaged? The crash? All those promises?

It hit like a gut punch.

She wanted to say something, rip into him—but the words sat there, sharp and useless.

She just bit her lip and shook her head.

Not because she was scared.

Because saying it out loud meant admitting her last three years were fake.

Her fingers curled tight around her purse. The medical report was in there—proof her hearing was back.

She'd heard every single word Eddie and Rick said.

Eddie's phone buzzed. He checked it, then signed, [Next event's starting. Go home—you're tired.]

Rhea didn't answer. Just stood, walked out without looking back.

But she didn't go far.

She stayed close, eyes locked on the door, dead silent.

Ten minutes later, a woman in heels and designer everything pushed open the door.

Rhea edged closer and peeked through the crack.

It was her—Glenna Digger. The name they'd dropped earlier. The girl from Eddie's photo album. Back when Rhea asked, he'd brushed it off with, "Just an old friend."

Glenna made a beeline for Eddie, slid in next to him, all smiles, and handed over a gift.

He took it, but her eyes locked on the brooch on his chest.

"Wow, Eddie. Your taste really changed. You used to hate these knockoffs."

She reached for it.

Eddie flinched and caught her hand.

Glenna blinked, then pouted. "Didn't realize it meant that much... Guess you won't like my gift either."

She opened the box.

Another brooch. Flashy. Expensive-looking. Nothing like the one Rhea gave.

Eddie's grip loosened.

He saw her eyes go glassy, sighed, then unclipped Rhea's brooch and swapped it for Glenna's.

Glenna lit up. "Knew you'd love it!"

She picked up Rhea's brooch, pretended to fumble, and let it fall.

Rhinestones scattered across the floor.

"Oh no! Total accident..." she said sweetly.

She gave him the sad eyes. Eddie barely glanced at the brooch before looking away.

"It's fine. Wasn't worth much anyway."

Glenna crouched, picked it up, and tossed it in the trash like it was nothing. "Guess it's broken. No point keeping it."

The rhinestones? Crushed under the feet of people who couldn’t care less.

Eddie didn't budge.

Rhea turned her face, pale and frozen. She was ready to run—then she heard it.

"Eddie, I've got a surprise for you tonight. Stay with me?"

"Sure."

The words cracked something deep.

She staggered home, totally out of it.

Three years ago, she found Eddie beat-up and bleeding.

Later, she found out the truth—he was the heir to the Bowie family, the ones behind Bowie Group, hiding out after getting framed and hunted.

At first, she helped out of duty, maybe.

But then he started showing her this softer side. One no one else got.

There was always something between them. Unspoken. Untouched.

Then came the crash.

Eddie didn't hesitate—he threw himself into the fire to save her.

She woke up deaf. First thing she saw? Eddie, covered in bandages.

He said, "If you can't hear, I'll be your ears."

For three years, she carried his pain, shared his fight, and helped rebuild his legacy.

She never thought the second he made it back, he'd put a ring on someone else.

Now she sat on her bed, staring at their old photo, eyes blank, heart wrecked, waiting for morning.

Then she grabbed her phone.

"Grandpa, I'm ready. I'm taking back the Cliburn name. And I'm entering the international piano competition as your heir."

Leopold Cliburn's voice came through the phone. "Really, Rhea?! I never stopped looking for you. Your father was useless—if he hadn't ditched your mother, we wouldn't have lost all those years. I've heard everything. With your talent, carrying on the Cliburn legacy will be easy."

Rhea dropped the photo of her and Eddie into the trash, laughing bitterly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Grandpa."

Three years ago, she was the prodigy everyone talked about.

Every stage, every spotlight—she owned it.

Then a single crash wrecked everything—took her hearing, killed her shot at the life she'd trained for.

The competition was the very next day.

Two years of grinding, prepping, aiming for that one title—top-ranked pianist in the country —just vanished.

Leopold kept going. "In seven days, I'll send someone to bring you home. We'll handle your name change and everything else."

"Okay, Grandpa. Got it."

Seven days. Just seven more days and she'd be gone. From Eddie. From this whole version of herself.

Her phone buzzed—a pic.

Eddie and Glenna. Twisted up in bed, arms all over each other.

Yeah, no mystery who sent it.

[Miss Smith, Eddie was wasted last night, so I brought him home. He kept me up for hours... said we're going to Bali for our wedding.]

Rhea saved the pic and the text, then typed back.

[Congrats. You finally got what you wanted.]

She spent the whole afternoon packing.

Everything that screamed them hit the trash.

The apartment? Her mom's gift. Small, but prime location. Agents had been circling for years.

She never budged—too many memories of her and Eddie tucked in the walls.

Now? She called the agency herself.

They moved fast. Someone came to check it out the next day.

Once the price was set, Rhea personally walked them out.

She stepped outside—and bam, Eddie's car rolled up.

Window down. He spotted the group, frowning. "Who are they?"

One of the agents jumped in, "Ah! You must be Miss Smith's boyfriend—"

Rhea cut him off. "Nothing. Water heater broke. Just repair guys."

The agent blinked, confused, but backed off under her stare.

Inside, Eddie paused. The apartment felt... wrong. Too empty.

He signed, [Why does it feel so empty all of a sudden?]

She signed back, cool as ice. [Just tossed some useless stuff.]

Her face gave nothing away. Eddie didn't press.

He pulled her in, sat down like nothing happened.

[I drank too much, crashed somewhere. You didn't wait up, did you? Work's been insane lately. Company celebration's tomorrow. Wanna come?]

She didn't say no.

Every second looking at him now—every fake smile, every touch—made her stomach turn.

But with six days left, she couldn't risk blowing it.

She just needed out.

Three years of lies—about to be over.