"It's Janet's birthday, isn't it?"

He shot back the answer without missing a beat.

Then, realization creased his forehead. "Claire, you're quick. You've already had someone dig into her, huh?"

He sighed, a look of resignation in his eyes, which then flickered with unease at the sight of my swollen palm. He grabbed my hand, fished out some iodine from his bag, and started dabbing at the swelling.

"You always sweat the small stuff," he muttered.

"Cut out the drama, will you? A bruised hand won't look nice with a wedding ring on it.

"You've poured your heart into planning this wedding, don't you want to take care of yourself for it?"

I looked down, a shadow falling over my face.

Samuel had, as I feared, completely forgotten that day.

June 4th was the day I took three bullets for him, the day he finally confessed his love.

I was after Samuel for five long years.

I showered him with lavish gifts, which he would unceremoniously dump in the storage closet.

Then I would fling wads of cash at his flings, boldly declaring, "Whatever he pays you, I'll double it. Just leave him."

I turned Twilight City upside down for him. Everyone knew that the Jones family's mob princess had her eyes set on Samuel.

After that, no woman dared come near him, much to his annoyance.

However, I did not care. I always got what I wanted, one way or another.

Later, I resorted to some cunning to get Samuel into bed.

He woke up with his hand around my throat. "Claire, are you that desperate for me?" he asked.

His body still reeked of alcohol, and it sent my senses into a tailspin.

That day, I confessed, "Yes, I am that desperate for you."

Somehow, Samuel's grip loosened, and we found ourselves getting cozy all the way to the kitchen.

"Do I really need you?" I whispered.

"What did you say?" Samuel's eyebrows knitted together.

I did not get a chance to answer; his phone started ringing.

He turned the volume down and moved closer to the window, as if to keep me from overhearing.

A minute later, he was tapping the driver's shoulder frantically.

"Stop the car!"

He left in a flurry of snow.

"Mr. Gordon, what's going on? Ms. Jones, should we follow him?" the driver asked.

I caught a glimpse of the desperate man in the rearview mirror.

In that instant, I questioned myself. 'Did I really need him that much?'

The answer was a resounding no.

I could chase a man with all the tricks up my sleeve, but once he betrayed me, he was nothing but trash to me.

Trash is meant to be discarded.

I looked away and told the driver calmly, "No, let's head home."

Seeing me return alone, my father's face turned stormy. "Bring that scoundrel back here!"

I quickly calmed him down, his anger flaring at me. "Claire, our family doesn't show mercy!"

"I know, but I loved him once.

"Give him one last chance, and if he betrays me again,"

"I'll take matters into my own hands, whether it's his hands or his life."

Father was silent for a while before he turned to the butler.

"Tell the families, the wedding's off."

"There's no need," I cut in.

"Father, is that marriage alliance you mentioned still on the table?"

Word got around fast, and Dad wasted no time in getting word to the Smiths. He always dreamed of me marrying into their family, the perfect match in his eyes, and they owed him big time for saving their hides once.

However, I was head over heels for Samuel and kept saying no. I can still hear Dad's voice, heavy with meaning, as I walked out the door, "Claire, are you sure about this?"

I did not have an answer. I did not even meet the Smith guy. However, there was no way I was going to let Samuel off the hook that easily. I wanted to see him squirm, to watch him lose every ounce of his cool in front of everyone we knew.

My phone shattered my reverie with its shrill ring.

It was the cops. Samuel got himself into a brawl.

My heart skipped a beat. He bleeds out over paper cuts, for crying out loud.

After a moment's hesitation, I threw on my coat and braved the snowstorm.

By the time I got there, my hair was a frozen mess. I did not even step inside when I heard the shouting.

"You think you can hit my girl and live to tell about it?" Samuel was on top of some guy, pummeling him without a care in the world, blood everywhere.

I never saw that side of him.

His condition had him pushing me away time and again. Too risky, he said, being with Don Jones' daughter. I bit my tongue, avoiding trouble, even ready to ditch my inheritance once we tied the knot, all to keep him safe.

For what? So his friends could laugh in my face? However, there he was, throwing punches like his life did not matter, all for a girl. The unfairness of it all burned inside me like wildfire.

I slammed the door open with a forceful kick, and the buzz of the office cut to dead silence.

Samuel caught sight of me, annoyed, lacing his voice, "You know, if you'd been any later, you'd be walking down the aisle to a corpse."

He then barked orders at me as if he were my supervisor, "Once you've handled this, meet me in the underground garage."

With that, he strolled downstairs with Janet, his arm around her, whispering reassurances, "Don't worry, I've got you, nothing's going to happen."

They were lost in their own world, their closeness for all to see.

Only after they vanished did the officer snap me back to reality. "Ms. Jones, Ms. Lloyd has accused her father of abuse, and Mr. Gordo just lost it for a second."

"Are you her father?" Ignoring the cop, I fixed my gaze on the trembling man. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Claire, Frank Jones's daughter."

The man shook like a leaf in a storm.

Crossing our family meant flirting with disaster, with outcomes ranging from crippling injuries to total annihilation.

He hit the floor hard, pleading as he clutched at my pants, "No, I'm not! She just paid me to play a part!"

I could not help but sneer as I yanked him up by his hair and dragged him out.

I was dying to see how Samuel would react when he discovered his sweetheart had played him from the start.

However, the moment I stepped into the underground garage, I froze.

Samuel and Janet were locked in a kiss inside my car.

"Samuel, you scared me to death. With all that blood, I thought you really had a clotting disorder."

Samuel chuckled, "That was just some story I cooked up to turn Claire down back then. She can be quite the handful."

"And why did you end up with her anyway?"

He stopped short, as if weighing his words.

"I couldn't figure it out. Maybe all I ever needed was her father. "

His words cut through me like a thousand knives.

So, this whole time, he was just using me?

He never loved me, and I never really had him.

I let out a bitter chuckle.

My hands balled into fists.

'Samuel, you're heartless,' I seethed inwardly.

I marched toward him, but agony suddenly ripped through my stomach.

That man, who claimed to be Janet's father, plunged a knife into me.

"Ms. Jones, I wish it hadn't come to this, but your father killed my wife, and now his daughter has to pay," he said.

"It was tough getting close to you, but Janet tipped me off that your Achilles' heel is Samuel. She was spot on."

With those words, he tossed the knife aside and bolted.

I collapsed, my hands pressed against the bleeding wound.

At that moment, everything clicked.

However, the pain was drowning me, and I knew I was on borrowed time.

The parking garage was deserted in the dead of night. No, there was one more.

"Samuel."

I whispered his name, clinging to a sliver of hope.

However, he was oblivious, lost in a fervent embrace with Janet against the car window.

The sound of their passion smothered my pleas.

"What was that?"

Samuel finally looked up.

However, Janet quickly pulled him back, "You're imagining things, there's nobody here."

She checked her watch, "I'm feeling sleepy, Samuel. Let's head out, okay?"

He hesitated, then peered into the desolate garage and shook his head, "Let's wait a bit. It's hard to catch a cab now, and it's not safe for her by herself."

"Samuel, she's Don Jones' daughter. Do you really think she needs us to give her a ride?" Janet chuckled.

Samuel mulled it over and, seeing the sense in her words, floored the accelerator.

I spat out a mouthful of blood and, in a final act of despair, shut my eyes.

'Samuel, I was ready to forgive you, even begged for one last chance on your behalf.

Too bad, you just couldn't seize it,' I mused.

Coming again, I was a mess of tubes and wires.

From outside the hospital room, my father's furious voice thundered.

"Who in the world thinks they can mess with my daughter and get away with it? Find him! I'll make him pay dearly!"

I turned to the nurse, my voice barely a whisper.

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days, Ms. Jones."

Three days, which meant my wedding was tomorrow.

My phone was flooded with messages from Samuel.

[Ignoring me? What's got you so upset this time?]

[Look, I was just helping out a friend that night. You're not getting jealous over that, are you?]

[Come on, don't be mad. For our honeymoon, I'll whisk you away to your beloved Florenza.]

...

However, it was not just him. I had a pile of anonymous emails waiting.

They were videos from Janet's birthday bash.

On June fourth, there he was, arm around Janet, slicing her birthday cake.

The same men who used to call me Ms. Jones were then eagerly calling her Mrs. Gordon.

My eyes turned icy, and just then, a chat notification popped up.

It was Samuel.

"You finally answered." His voice was light, tinged with self-satisfaction.

"Yeah," I replied, drained of energy.

Samuel hesitated, picking up on the change in my voice.

"What- what happened to you?"

"Me?" I let out a wry chuckle, "I've just been brought back from the brink."

"Claire!" His voice boomed with frustration. "When will you stop this madness? How could you even say such things?"

I could not muster a reply; the pain sapped all my strength.

Samuel mistook my silence for sorrow, and his voice softened.

"Enough with the wild talk.

"Our wedding is tomorrow. Can we stop fighting now? Five years of this wasn't enough?

"I'll see you there tomorrow. I've got a surprise for you."

The call ended, and I slumped against the hospital bed, exhausted.

When I next spoke, my voice was ice. "Get me out of here. I have a wedding to attend tomorrow."

The next morning, Samuel arrived at the venue, sharp in his suit, with the Gordon family's guests in tow. However, my side was eerily empty —no family members in sight, and no bride.

"Samuel, do you think Claire doesn't know we moved the date?"

The guests whispered among themselves as Samuel, flustered, dialed my number.

"Claire! Where are you? You can't just vanish on our wedding day. If you miss today, there's no do-over!"

"Who says I'm missing anything?" My voice was a whisper, a phone in my hand.

The grand church music played through the call, freezing Samuel in place.

"Where are you? What are you doing?!"

A faint smile crossed my lips.

"I'm getting married."