My mother’s funeral felt like a blur I walked through without really existing. I stood beside the coffin like a broken shadow, staring at the woman I had loved more than anyone—now cold, still, gone.

My mind kept replaying her last phone call. Her voice. The goodbye she tried to make sound gentle even while she was dying.

Every inch of me felt hollow.

Killian didn’t show up. He didn’t call. He didn’t text.

So, I also didn’t let him know that my mother died. He didn’t know I collapsed. He didn’t know I was pregnant. He didn’t know I scheduled an abortion.

He didn’t care… or he would if he wanted to. And I was a fool for not even realizing that.

By the time I returned home, the silence in the apartment felt like a physical weight. I folded my mother’s old sweater against my chest and sank to the floor, crying until my throat burned.

I didn’t know how long I stayed like that.

Hours. A whole night. Until the door opened.

Killian walked in, cheerful and bright like nothing in my world had fallen apart.

“Amber?” he called lightly. “I brought something for you—Grandma said you’d like it.”

He carried shopping bags. Expensive brands. Perfume. Clothes. Things I used to love before everything shattered.

He didn’t even notice how swollen my eyes were. Or how pale I’d become. Or the funeral card still sitting on the counter.

He only smiled. “I missed you.”

I stared at him, numb.

He sat on the couch and casually pulled out wedding brochures. “So… the garden venue or the hotel ballroom? Grandma wants us to finalize things soon.”

I stared. He kept flipping pages. “Also… I talked to a friend of mine who knows someone in London. They can help you get into a good medical program there.”

I blinked slowly. “London?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Great schools. Amazing opportunities. You always dreamed of becoming a doctor, right? You should go.”

“And leave?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “It’s long-distance, sure, but we’ll manage. Maybe it’s good for you. You can focus on your career. And well…”

He smiled faintly. “That way, I can focus on the business.”

I snorted. If this were before, I would be happy, but now I know that he just wanted to dispose of me. So he could hand me over to Ken whenever he needed to play pretend. So he could throw me away quietly—without Grandma watching.

I clenched my hands in my lap. “Do you… want me to leave?”

His silence answered everything. Something inside me cracked—not with pain, but with clarity.

I nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

He brightened instantly. “Good. Good. I really think London will be perfect for you.”

Perfect for him.

He stood, brushing imaginary lint from his suit. “By the way, I want to introduce you to someone. Two people, actually.”

My breath stilled. He opened the door wider.

And there he was. Ken.

I recognized him immediately—same face, same eyes—but the smirk ruined any resemblance to Killian’s gentle act.

“Amber,” Ken said with an exaggerated smile. “We finally meet properly.”

I couldn’t breathe. My palms turned cold. My stomach twisted violently.

Killian beamed proudly, oblivious. “This is my twin brother. I haven’t introduced him earlier because he travels a lot… and honestly, Grandma and he didn’t get along, and it was just now that he finally decided to see Grandma and apologize for being an asshole.”

My chest ached with silent rage.

But then—Then she stepped into the doorway.

The girl who made high school and college a living hell for me.

The queen bee who strutted through hallways like she owned the world—and destroyed anyone who didn’t fit into it.

She spread scandals about me, whispered lies, mocked my thrift-store clothes, and led her friends into cornering me in bathroom stalls just to hear me cry.

She humiliated me in front of crowds, called me names, shoved me into lockers, and made sure everyone knew I was “the poor charity case.”

She bullied me so relentlessly that I developed the anxiety and depression I still fight every day.

She looked flawless—red lips, perfect curls, designer dress. She gasped dramatically and rushed toward me with open arms.

“Amber!” she squealed. “Oh my God, it’s been forever!”

I froze. Her arms wrapped around me.

And in that moment, every instinct in me recoiled. My spine stiffened. My skin crawled under her touch.

She pulled back just enough to study my face.

Her smile faltered when she saw I didn’t return the hug. A small pout appeared on her lips.

“Oh, come on,” she said lightly, tilting her head. “You still don’t like me?” Then she let out a soft, fake laugh. “Shouldn’t I be the one scared of you? Considering you used to bully me?”

My breath hitched.

Killian’s head snapped in my direction. “Bully you? Amber, what—?”

Mandie blinked innocently, placing a hand on her chest as if she were the victim. “Oh… right,” she added sweetly. “I guess she never told you. We used to be… friends… until she hurt me!”

I shoved Mandie hard. She stumbled backward, gasping.

"You're the one who hurt me!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "You ruined my life!"

I didn't wait for a response. I turned and ran out of the apartment, my vision blurring with tears.

Behind me, I heard Killian's voice, sharp and angry. "Amber!"

But I kept walking. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My chest felt like it was caving in.

I'd barely made it down the hallway when Killian caught up, his hand gripping my arm and spinning me around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed.

"I can't—" My breathing turned shallow. Panic clawed up my throat. "My anxiety—I can't be around her—"

"Your anxiety?" Killian's eyes were cold. Hard. "You mean your excuse? Your way of avoiding responsibility?"

"Killian, please—"

"Mandie told me everything," he cut me off. "About how you bullied her. How you made her life hell in school. And now you have the audacity to play victim?"

The world tilted. "She told you what?"

"That you tormented her for years. That you spread rumors about her. That you made her feel worthless." His voice dropped, deadly quiet. "I know what you did, Amber. And frankly? You disgust me."

Each word was a knife to my chest. "That's not—she's lying—"

"Is she?" He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. "Because from where I'm standing, you're the one acting crazy. Pushing her. Screaming at her. While she's done nothing but try to be civil."

Tears streamed down my face. "Killian, you have to believe me—"

"I don't have to do anything," he snapped. "What I need is for you to go home, reflect on your behavior, and come back ready to apologize. To Mandie. For everything."

"I won't—"

"You will." His grip on my arm tightened. "Or we're done. Your choice."

He released me and walked back into the apartment, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, shaking and broken.

Two days later, Killian texted me.

Wedding dress shopping. Tomorrow. 2 PM. Mandie will be there. You two need to work this out. She is my friend and an important person in my life.

I stared at the message until my vision blurred. He was forcing me to spend time with her. With the woman who destroyed me. And I had no choice. Because without Killian, without Grandma Rosie, I had nothing.

So I went.

The bridal boutique felt like a tomb. Killian and Mandie were already there when I arrived, standing close together, laughing about something.

When Killian saw me, his expression turned flat. "You're late."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Mandie smiled sweetly. "It's okay, Amber. I know you're going through a lot." She touched Killian's arm. "Should we start?"

Throughout the entire appointment, I felt like a ghost. Mandie picked out dresses for me to try. Killian barely looked up from his phone. When I stepped out in the first gown, Mandie tilted her head.

"It's... nice," she said. "But maybe something less plain? This is Killian's wedding too."

Killian nodded without looking. "Try another."

By the third dress, Mandie was openly criticizing. "The neckline is unflattering. Your posture is terrible. Are you even trying to look like a bride?"

I said nothing. Just changed into the next dress like a doll being dressed and undressed.

"Amber," Killian finally said, his voice sharp. "Are you going to participate? Or just stand there like a mannequin?"

I met his eyes in the mirror. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop sulking," he snapped. "Mandie is trying to help. The least you could do is be grateful."

"I am grateful," I lied.

"Then show it," he said coldly. "Because right now, you look jealous and petty."

The words hit like a slap. Mandie placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Killian, it's okay. She's just overwhelmed."

He softened immediately when he looked at her. "You're right. I'm sorry you have to deal with this."

I felt something crack inside me.

At the jewelry store, it was worse. Mandie picked out rings, modeled them, gave her opinions. Killian listened to every word. When I tried to speak, he cut me off.

"Mandie has excellent taste. Just let her handle it."

So I stood there, silent, while another woman chose my engagement ring.

The bridal shower was held at Grandma's estate. I arrived hoping for a moment of peace, but Mandie was already there, charming everyone, especially Grandma.

"Amber saved my life once," Grandma told the guests, smiling at me. "She's a remarkable young woman."

For a moment, I felt seen. Valued.

Then Mandie stood, raising her glass. "To Amber and Killian. May they find the happiness they deserve."

Everyone toasted. Grandma took a sip of her champagne—and suddenly swayed. Her glass slipped from her fingers and shattered.

"Grandma!" I lunged forward, catching her as she collapsed.

Chaos erupted. Someone called an ambulance. Killian appeared, his face white with panic.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I don't know—she just collapsed—"

Then Mandie stepped forward, her voice trembling. "I saw Amber near Grandma's drink earlier. She was... doing something to it."

The room went silent. All eyes turned to me.

"What?" I breathed. "No—I would never—"

"I didn't want to say anything," Mandie continued, tears in her eyes. "But I can't stay silent if Grandma's in danger."

"You're lying!" I screamed.

Killian grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "Did you poison my grandmother?"

"No! Killian, please—"

"ANSWER ME!" he roared.

"I didn't do anything!" Tears streamed down my face. "I love Grandma—I would never hurt her—"

But he wasn't listening. His eyes were wild with rage. "Get out," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Get out of my sight before I do something I regret."

"Killian—"

He leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. "You are nothing without me. Nothing without my family. Without us, you're just a poor girl with a sick mother and no future." His words were poison. "So remember that the next time you think about crossing me. Because I can take everything from you. Everything."

I woke up to white walls and the steady beep of machines. My body felt heavy. Wrong. Like something vital had been carved out of me.

"Ms. Hale." A nurse appeared beside my bed, her expression sympathetic. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. Dry. She handed me water. I drank slowly, fragments of memory crashing back.

The locked room. The darkness. The walls closing in.

Killian's voice outside the door: "Stay in there until you're ready to admit what you did."

I'd screamed. Begged. Pounded on the door until my fists bled. My claustrophobia had kicked in—the walls shrinking, the air thinning, my chest constricting until I couldn't breathe.

I'd collapsed. And then... nothing.

"The baby," I whispered suddenly, my hand flying to my stomach.

The nurse's face fell. "I'm so sorry. You miscarried. The stress and trauma to your body—"

The rest of her words faded into static. The baby was gone. I should've felt relief. I'd scheduled an abortion anyway. But instead, I felt hollow. Empty. Like the last piece of me that mattered had been ripped away.

"There's someone here to see you," the nurse said gently.

Before I could respond, the door opened.

Killian walked in, his expression unreadable. He stood at the foot of my bed, hands in his pockets, studying me like I was a problem to be solved.

"You're awake," he said flatly.

I said nothing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Grandma's stable. No permanent damage. The doctors said it was just a reaction to her medication."

Still, I remained silent.

"Amber." His voice hardened. "I need you to do something. For Grandma. For us."

I finally looked at him. "What?"

"Apologize," he said. "To Mandie. To Grandma. For everything."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Apologize?"

"Yes." He stepped closer. "Grandma still wants this wedding to happen. She still believes in you. God knows why." His eyes narrowed. "So you're going to apologize to Mandie for your behavior. You're going to apologize to Grandma for the stress you caused. And you're going to pull yourself together."

Each word was a knife.

"And if I don't?" I whispered.

His smile was cold. "Then you lose everything. The wedding. The support. The life you've built. Everything."

I stared at him—this stranger wearing the face of the man I thought I loved.

"Okay," I said quietly.

He blinked, surprised. "Okay?"

"I'll apologize," I said. "I'll do whatever you want."

Something flickered in his expression. Relief, maybe. Or satisfaction. And he walked out.

Later that day, Grandma Rosie visited. She shuffled into the room with her cane, her face pale but kind. When she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Amber," she whispered, sitting beside my bed and taking my hand. "My sweet girl. I'm so sorry for everything you've been through."

The kindness broke something in me. Tears spilled down my cheeks.

"I didn't hurt you, Grandma," I choked out. "I swear—I would never—"

"Shh, I know." She squeezed my hand gently. "I know, dear. You saved my life once. You would never harm me."

Her words were a balm to my shattered heart.

"But Killian—" I started.

"Killian is confused," she said softly. "He's under a lot of stress. But he loves you. And this wedding will happen. I'll make sure of it."

I wanted to tell her the truth. About Killian. About Ken. About Mandie. About everything. But no, not yet as I planned to ruin them before I'm gone.

So I nodded. "Okay, Grandma."

She smiled, relief washing over her face. "That's my girl."

I whispered, "I'm sorry, grandma."

After she left, I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.

And for the first time in weeks, my mind cleared. I'd been so focused on surviving—on enduring—that I'd forgotten something crucial.

I had a choice.

Over the next two days, I worked quietly.

I requested my medical records. The ones showing the wrong medication Killian had been giving me. The ones proving someone had been slowly poisoning me.

I called my bank and discovered that Killian had been transferring small amounts from the joint account Grandma set up for us. Money meant for our future. Money going straight to an account under Mandie's name.

I dug deeper. Found photos. Receipts. Hotel bookings under Killian's name with Mandie listed as his companion.

And then I found the most damning evidence of all—an old email chain between Killian and Ken, their plan to useme because their own grandma favors me more than them.

My hands shook as I read. Every word confirmed what I already knew but couldn't bear to accept.

I'd been a pawn. A tool. A means to an end.

And they'd all been playing me.

I also made sure to include the pregnancy test, the paper proving I lost the baby, and my mother's certificate. All which he never cared.

On the third day, I made a phone call.

"Professor Chen?" My voice was steady. Calm.

"Amber!" His warm voice came through the line. "It's been months! How are you?"

"I'm calling about the volunteer program," I said. "The medical mission to Africa. Is the position still available?"

A pause. "Yes, actually. We lost our last volunteer, so we're still looking for someone. But Amber, that's a two-year commitment. Minimum. Are you sure—"

"I'm sure," I interrupted. "I want to go. As soon as possible."