Glenna yanked out her phone and flashed a message at Rhea.

[You probably don't know the car crash was Eddie's doing, huh? All for me. Even pretending to care after—that was just to make sure your hearing was wrecked for good. Those meds for your ears? I had him give them to you. You might've had a shot, but not after that. And you really thought you could compete with me?]

Rhea's fists curled tight, nails cutting into her palms. The pain snapped her awake.

She'd taken those meds for a whole year.

Back then, Eddie had quit Bowie Group. He was broke, barely scraping by, but still dropped money on her treatment.

She'd been so moved. Took every dose on time. He even drove her to every checkup.

In the end, she gave in—convinced her ears were done for.

Started easing off the meds.

Whenever Eddie asked, she'd just hold up the leftovers like everything was fine.

She just hadn't wanted to be a burden.

Funny how that choice ended up saving her.

If she'd kept taking those pills, how would she even be hearing now?

Those checkups? Just part of the scam—to prove she'd never get better.

Rhea felt stupid.

Three years she thought were redemption? Just one long setup.

She'd been played from day one.

Her eyes locked on Glenna. Blood dripped from her clenched fist, but the burn in her chest hurt worse.

She snapped. Right there, in front of everyone.

Walked straight up—and slapped Glenna across the face.

Her hearing, her dreams, her whole world died in that crash.

And the person who killed it? Living her dream.

The darling of the stage. The fake piano queen.

Rhea's hands shook with rage.

The slap wasn't even that hard.

But Glenna dropped like she'd been hit by lightning.

A loud thud echoed as Glenna hit the floor, crying out and tumbling off the platform.

Before anyone could even move, Eddie was already there, scooping her up.

Scrapes lined her arm and hand. She leaned into him, eyes misty. "It's my fault. I just told her I wanted to help her get back to her old self, that she could practice with me... Maybe that hit a nerve. I messed up. I'm so sorry..."

She sniffled and handed him her phone.

The message on screen? Total rewrite—just sweet, supportive words for Rhea. Like the venom never happened.

Eddie turned to Rhea, eyes cold.

"Rhea Smith, you're being completely unreasonable! Do you even get how important Glenna's hands are? If she can't play after this, I won't forgive you."

He spoke slow, every word exaggerated so she could read his lips.

Then he shoved her. Hard.

She stumbled back, crashed into the piano.

Her forehead smacked the edge. Sharp pain. Gasp.

Blood dripped down her face. Vision swam.

She looked at the red on her fingers, let out a bitter laugh.

Glenna's hand barely had a scratch.

And Eddie lost his mind over it.

When Rhea lost her hearing, all Eddie cared about was pushing those pills that wrecked any shot she had left.

Love? Yeah, that was never real.

In the beginning, when the silence first hit her, she was drowning—couldn't eat, couldn't sleep.

She even hurt herself.

And Eddie? He acted shattered.

Started staying in every day, trying to cheer her up.

"Rhea, promise me... don't do that again. It kills me to see you like this."

Back then, even a paper cut on her hand had him spiraling.

Now? He couldn't even look at her.

Held another girl in his arms, right in front of her.

Blood kept dripping. People stared, disgust plain on their faces.

Rhea didn't wait. She caught a cab to the hospital.

Asked a night nurse to patch her up.

But she was told every doctor and nurse was in the same room.

Eddie and Glenna's room.

She stood outside the door.

Heard Eddie inside, all worried.

"How's Glenna's hand? It won't mess with her playing, right?"

Glenna's voice, soft and sugary. "Oh, Eddie, I'm fine. Just a scratch. Aren't you going to check on Miss Smith? She looked hurt when we left."

Silence.

Then Eddie finally said, "She brought it on herself. If she hadn't hurt you, none of this would've happened. It's just a surface wound—she'll be fine."

The staff finally stepped out once Glenna's bandages were done.

"Mr. Bowie really spoils his fiancée," one nurse whispered. "Even a paper cut sends him into a frenzy."

Rhea was still at the door.

No one noticed the blood still trailing down her face.

No one saw how pale she'd gone.

A wave of dizziness slammed into her.

She reached out, grabbing a stranger's sleeve just to stay on her feet.

"Are you alright, miss?"

The voice pulled both Eddie and Glenna to the doorway. Their conversation cut off.

"Rhea?"

Eddie.

But she didn't even look his way.

Still gripping the nurse's sleeve, she whispered, "Please... can you help me bandage this?"

The second she said it, her legs gave out.

When she came to, her head was already wrapped, the bleeding stopped.

A nurse called out, "Mr. Bowie, Miss Smith is awake."

Rhea stayed still, lying there as Eddie rushed to her bedside.

Eddie's face twisted into something complicated before he launched into his neatly packaged text.

[Rhea, I overreacted tonight. Glenna's been my friend for years. I just panicked when I saw her hurt—it wasn't on purpose, leaving you like that. But you're being petty. How could Glenna have known what you've been through? She's an heiress. And what if her hand had been seriously hurt? She might never be able to play piano again. You understand that, right? Playing is her dream. Just go over and apologize to her, and this whole thing can be over.]

Rhea stared at the screen and let out a dry laugh.

"No."

Her voice was low, steady. Eddie stiffened.

She'd always leaned on him. Rarely pushed back.

But now, over an apology, she shut down.

"You want me to say sorry? To her?" She shook her head. "Not happening. Glenna's dream matters, but mine doesn't?"

She raised her hand.

A faint scar stretched across her pale skin.

Two years ago, when Eddie got jumped by a hitman sent by some Bowie bastard kid, Rhea had taken the knife for him.

Straight through her hand.

A random bystander had called the cops—only reason they got out.

But her hand never healed right.

Sometimes it shook for no reason. That tiny tremble? It killed whatever dream she had left.

Still, she gave up her hand to save him.

No regrets.

Eddie had promised after that—never again.

But promises? They're just words.

With Glenna, his panic was instant. He saw her hand and thought, 'What about her music? Her future?'

With Rhea? Her future didn't even cross his mind.

She looked him dead in the eyes, smiling.

"Eddie, I just remembered something. Three years ago, that big competition—it was between me and Glenna. Then right before it, boom. Car crash. I lost my hearing. She won. You really think that was just a coincidence?"

Eddie stiffened. Panic flashed behind his eyes.

"It was just a coincidence. Why would you even say that?"

He was so shaken, he forgot she wasn't supposed to hear.

He stood, trying to brush it all off.

"You're tired, Rhea. Get some rest. I'm... disappointed in you."

She didn't answer.

Didn't have to.

She didn't care anymore.

Her phone buzzed.

New ID: approved.

Three days.

She'd be gone.

Over the next three days, Eddie popped up now and then—usually on his way to see Glenna. Rhea was just a detour.

The hospital buzzed about how the Bowie CEO was babying his fiancée. Glenna got a tiny scratch, and Eddie freaked—demanded a trauma specialist on standby 24/7.

Rhea couldn't care less. Even seeing him didn't faze her anymore.

He thought she was just being dramatic. Figured once he patched things up with Glenna, he could sweet-talk Rhea back like always.

But this time? She was out. Whatever shred of hope she had died the night he didn't come home.

While a nurse changed her bandages, Glenna waltzed in like she owned the place. Glowing. Clearly Eddie was spoiling her.

Rhea didn't even blink. Eyes stayed glued to her phone.

Her grandpa had already handled everything—her stuff moved.

The apartment? It had been sold and signed over to the new owner.

It was time to go.

Glenna stepped closer, smug grin locked in place.

"Still chasing Eddie, huh? God, you're stubborn. We're getting married in Bali in three days. You knew that, right?" She clicked her tongue. "Oh, wait—you can't hear. My bad."

Rhea glanced up, face blank. Glenna's words didn't land. None of it mattered. She was already halfway gone.

But then Glenna grabbed her hair and yanked hard.

"Think you can beat me? First the stage, now Eddie? You're nothing."

Pain ripped through her scalp. Rhea snapped, grabbed Glenna's wrist, and shoved her off.

That's when she smelled it—smoke.

Her head whipped toward the door. Thick gray clouds were already rolling in. Flames licked the doorway.

No time to think. She soaked the bedsheet, tossed it over herself, and bolted.

But Glenna, coughing and half-conscious, latched onto her leg like a maniac.

Rhea kicked, but Glenna wouldn't budge.

Then came the whisper of a smile. "Tell me—who do you think Eddie's gonna save?"

Rhea's stomach dropped.

This wasn't some freak accident.

Glenna was completely unhinged.

"It's Eddie's choice now. Today, you die."

The smoke was choking. Rhea's body was shot, her strength draining fast. She hit the floor, the black closing in, panic twisting deep in her chest.

Time blurred. Seconds? Minutes? No clue.

Then the door slammed open.

Eddie charged in with the rescue team.

"Glenna!"

He spotted her out cold and rushed over, scooping her up like it was muscle memory. Didn't even glance at Rhea, who was barely hanging on.

Rhea tried to speak, but just sucked in more smoke.

Through the haze, she saw him vanish down the hall—never looked back.

She clenched her teeth, yanked the damp sheet over her face, trying to stay upright.

Third floor.

No time to think. The fire was already here.

She shoved herself up and hurled toward the window.

Pain snapped her fully awake. Her leg—definitely wrecked.

One last look at the flames, then she crawled through, dragging her busted leg behind.

The hospital was in the suburbs— No help in sight.

Everything started going black again—

Until arms caught her.

She blinked up. Stranger. Strong grip.

He didn't say a word, just carried her to a car.

"To the Cliburn Hospital."

Then the calmest voice: "I'm Hank Truhart. Grandpa Leopold sent me."

And that was the last thing she heard.

***

Eddie had Glenna moved into a luxe hospital suite, doctors and nurses swarming like she was royalty.

After the check-up, one of them stepped forward. "She's fine. Just needs rest."

Glenna fluttered her eyes open. Eddie rushed to her side.

"How do you feel?"

She shook her head, tears spilling like she'd barely escaped a horror movie. "Eddie, I was terrified. I tried to run, but Rhea stopped me. She wouldn't let me go. If you hadn't shown up, I—"

Eddie's jaw tightened.

He turned to ask where Rhea was—then froze.

His face went ghost-white.

Next second, he was sprinting.

But the room was already burning. Fire had swallowed it whole, and the nearest crew was five minutes out.

"Rhea! RHEA! Are you in there?!"

No reply.

He lunged forward, but bodyguards grabbed him.

"Mr. Bowie, it's too late. Even if she was inside—"

"Shut up! She's alive! She has to be!"

As Eddie cracked, a doctor sprinted over, waving a chart.

"Mr. Bowie! About Miss Smith's test results—her hearing's fully restored. Test was from last week..."

Eddie stared at the report.

Last week. His birthday.