The warmth startled me.

When I opened my eyes, strong arms were wrapped around me from behind. Jackson’s breath brushed against my ear, and his familiar voice whispered, “I’m sorry about last night. I was just… busy. Let me make it up to you this time. Dinner?”

His lips brushed my cheek before I could even process the words. He kissed me softly, almost tenderly, like the man I once knew. Then he slipped something cool into my hand.

I looked down. An emerald necklace sparkled against my palm, deep green fire dancing in the light.

“I’m also sorry for missing our anniversary,” he murmured, fastening it gently around my neck. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. After our wedding, we’ll go on a trip to the Maldives—just like you’ve always wanted.”

I forced a smile, my throat tight.

He pulled back, revealing a tray of breakfast he had prepared himself—eggs, toast, fresh juice. “Here,” he said proudly, setting it on my lap.

If this had been another day—if it had been years ago when we still lived in that small apartment and he scraped together coins to buy me a five-dollar ring—my heart would have burst with joy. Back then, I would have kissed him endlessly, thanking him as though he had handed me the world.

But today?

I just stared. Pretended to eat. Pretended to smile. Pretended to be happy.

Because deep down, I knew. The cracks had already swallowed us whole.

And then his phone rang.

The screen lit up with a name I didn’t need to see twice. Ivy.

Jackson glanced at me once, then answered smoothly. “Business. I’ll see you at dinner. Wear what I sent you.”

He hung up without another word and left, grabbing his coat, his cologne trailing behind him like a ghost of the man who used to love me.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I pushed the tray aside and stood. I opened the wardrobe and pulled out every box, every drawer, every hidden memory. The love letters from years ago, the cheap trinkets, the first ring he bought me when he worked five jobs to keep me fed, the pressed flowers he once gave me when we couldn’t afford real bouquets. Every gift, every note, every token of our history.

I placed them all in a box. Once, these things had been treasures. Now, they were weights.

I slid the box to the corner of the room. I would erase every piece of our past once I left.

By evening, I dressed in the gown Jackson had sent, the emerald necklace heavy against my skin. I painted my lips with the shade he liked, pinned my hair the way he preferred, and told myself it would only be him and me tonight. That maybe this was his attempt to remember.

But when I stepped into the restaurant, my heart froze.

Because she was there. Ivy.

“Oh, look,” she said sweetly. “We have the same dress. And the same necklace. Seems like we share the same taste, huh?”

I stared at her, my voice small. “What are you doing here?”

Before I could say more, Jackson’s voice cut in. “We had a meeting with a client here. Ivy was already nearby, so she joined us. She’s hungry, so she’s eating with us right now.”

My chest tightened. “I thought this was a date.”

He sighed, already irritated. “Don’t be dramatic, Cassandra. I’m stressed with work. Just sit down, eat, and stop making a scene.”

I obeyed, lowering myself into the seat quietly. My fingers clenched against the tablecloth, holding myself together with what little pride I had left.

The food arrived. I expected that he would serve me first, like he always used to. Instead, the dish was placed in front of Ivy, and Jackson slid her plate closer with a smile.

Then came the seafood platter. The smell hit me instantly. My stomach churned. Memories slammed into me: the night I had mistakenly eaten seafood years ago, the allergic reaction that left me gasping in the hospital, Jackson working tirelessly to pay for the bills.

How could he forget?

He turned to me, brows lifting. “Why aren’t you eating? Isn’t this your favorite?”

Ivy leaned forward with a knowing smirk. “Oh, really? We’re the same then—it’s my favorite too.”

My lips trembled. I whispered, “I’m allergic…”

But he didn’t hear. His phone rang again, and he excused himself, stepping away.

And then it was just me and Ivy.

She leaned closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re really a copycat, huh? Can’t you see he’s dressing you like me? The same gown, the same necklace—so he won’t feel bad for settling. Do you even realize what you are, Cassandra? Nothing. A stand-in. A shadow.”

I stayed silent, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.

She chuckled darkly. “That necklace? Yours is a cheap imitation. Mine is real. He buys me the originals—you get the duplicates. Do you really think you’ll ever fit in our world? You better leave before you embarrass yourself further. Before you get hurt.”

I met her gaze, finally speaking in a low, firm voice. “Good. Then I will.”

I pushed back from the table, ready to walk away—but Ivy wasn’t finished.

As I rose, she suddenly yelped, clutching her leg. She knocked her soul bowl over dramatically.

“Ahhh! My leg—Cassandra burned me!” she cried, her voice loud enough to draw attention.

Heads turned. Jackson rushed back instantly, his face contorted with panic.

“What happened?!” he demanded, crouching beside her.

Tears streaked Ivy’s flawless cheeks as she sobbed, “She—she got mad about the dress, the necklace—she burned me! On purpose!”

I shook my head furiously. “No! I didn’t! I didn’t even touch her!”

But Jackson’s eyes snapped to me, furious. “Are you insane?! She’s a model, Cassandra! She depends on her legs! And you—what are you?! Nothing!”

The words pierced deeper than any blade.

And then he did the unthinkable.

He grabbed the edge of the hot plate and pressed it against my thigh. The searing pain tore a scream from my throat, the burn spreading like fire under my skin.

“Now feel it,” he hissed. “Feel the burn you gave her.”

I collapsed against the chair, clutching my leg, my vision swimming with tears.

Ivy sobbed into his chest as he carried her out of the restaurant, her arms looped around his neck, her smile hidden from his view but visible to mine.

And me?

I was left there. Alone.

With trembling fingers, I wrapped the bandage around my leg, layer by layer, until the pain dulled to a heavy throb.

And when it was done, I stared at myself in the mirror—the necklace still glinting mockingly at my throat, my eyes swollen from tears, my leg covered in white cloth like a wound I could never hide.

That was when I knew. I couldn’t stay here anymore.

So I stood, ignoring the ache in my body, and went straight to the wardrobe. I didn’t cry. I simply pulled out the suitcases and began to pack. Then I gathered the rest—the letters, the photographs, the tiny tokens of a love I once thought would last forever—and threw them into a pile.

This time, I didn’t put them in a box. I set them on fire.

The flames devoured everything in seconds, curling paper into ash, melting ink into nothing.

I was done. But as I lifted my luggage, ready to leave, the front door slammed open.

Jackson stood there, eyes widening at the sight of the blackened pile, the suitcases lined up like soldiers at my feet. “What the hell is this?” His voice thundered through the penthouse. “Why did you throw our things? What are those boxes? And what’s with the smoke? Did you burn something?”

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Charity.”

He stepped forward, frowning. “And the luggage? Where are you going?”

I forced a small smile. “On a trip.”

“Trip?” His voice rose in disbelief. “We’re getting married soon and you still want to go on a trip? You didn’t even tell me! Was this because of what happened earlier? Cassandra—I said I’m sorry, okay?”

I laughed bitterly under my breath. Sorry. Always sorry.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “I was just stressed. You know her family is helping me. I couldn’t let her be embarrassed like that, because if she is, the merger falls through. Don’t you understand? This is for us. I’m doing this for us.”

I looked down, my eyes fixed on his legs—the same ones that had stood in front of me, begging, promising when he was nothing but a man with empty pockets.

Now those same legs had walked me into hell.

“Please,” he said, softer this time. He reached for my hands. “I promise—once this merger is done, once everything is settled, I’ll focus on you. Just… give me this. This is for us.”

I couldn’t answer. My chest was too heavy to form words.

And then his eyes flickered downward. “Where’s your ring?”

I froze.

“I removed it,” I said quietly. “I don’t… like the feeling anymore.”

For a moment, something unreadable flashed across his face. Then he sighed and pulled me into a half-hearted embrace. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to the auction tomorrow. You can pick whatever you like. I’ll buy you something better. Anything you want.”

I nodded, forcing my face blank. Just a few more days, I told myself.

That same night, I checked my bank account. A new deposit. Twenty million dollars.

From Nathalia. The deal was sealed.

The next morning, I stepped outside, only to freeze at the sight of Ivy already sitting in the passenger seat of Jackson’s car.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “Jackson’s mother insisted I come to the auction. She thought I’d be more… fitting to accompany Jackson. I mean, what you know, right? It’ll be your first time.”

Jackson glanced back at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s for business again. Just let it go.”

So I sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window, remembering the days when Jackson used to talk about buying us a small car. “For our road trips,” he had said, eyes shining with hope. “We’ll drive anywhere you want, Cassandra. Just you and me.”

That dream was gone now, replaced by tinted windows and the bitter laughter of another woman in the front seat.

At the auction, the cameras flashed like lightning. Jackson and Ivy posed effortlessly, their smiles polished, their chemistry undeniable. The media called them perfect, their names whispered like royalty.

And me? I was shoved to the background. A shadow. A wallflower no one cared to notice.

When someone dared to ask who I was, Jackson corrected them smoothly. “A friend. Nothing more.”

The words sliced through me sharper than any knife.

At the table, I sat silently while Ivy leaned close to whisper, “See? You don’t belong here. You never did.”

I wanted to scream. To cry. To leave. But I sat there, gripping the hem of my dress until my nails left marks in my skin.

Finally, I stood, deciding to go home and let the charade continue without me. But as I turned, something caught my eye.

A golden locket.

It lay glinting on a velvet display, familiar as the lines of my own hands. My breath caught.

It was like my grandmother’s locket—the one I had sold years ago, desperate to pay for Jackson’s hospital bills after the accident. Our family had once been wealthy, but that locket was the last remnant of our legacy. And when I parted with it, Jackson had taken my hand and sworn, “Someday, Cassandra, when I can afford it, I’ll buy it back for you. I promise.”

And now, here it was.

My throat closed as I stepped closer.

I reached out, just to touch it, to make sure it was truly the same one.

The moment my fingers brushed the gold, a woman beside the display shrieked. “You thief!” She shoved me hard, her voice echoing through the hall. “You’re stealing! She’s a stealer!”

The voices cut through me like knives.

“I didn’t steal,” I begged, clutching the golden locket tightly in my trembling hands. “I just wanted to look at it. Please—it’s mine. It belonged to my grandmother. I only wanted to see if it was the same one… and buy it.”

But my words were drowned out by cruel laughter.

“She’s delusional!” someone sneered.

“Pathetic!” another voice spat.

“Look at her, clinging to something she could never afford.”

The crowd gathered closer, their judgment merciless. My cheeks burned as the whispers turned to shouts. Someone pointed at my necklace.

“Those jewels she’s wearing—they’re fake! All of them!”

Another hand grabbed at my wrist, yanking the bracelet Jackson had once given me. “Knock-off,” the woman sneered, tossing it aside.

And then came the first throw. A piece of bread. Then a glass of wine. Then plates, scraps of food, whatever they could grab. All hurled at me as if I were nothing more than garbage.

I searched the crowd desperately for Jackson. For his face. For his hand to reach out and stop this nightmare.

But he stood still. Silent. Pretending not to know me.

That hurt more than anything else.

The humiliation dragged me out of the hall. They shoved me, kicked me, tossed me aside until I collapsed on the cold pavement outside the auction house. My dress was torn, my skin bruised, and my heart… utterly shattered.

No one came. No one cared.

And yet, as I lay there, a memory surfaced—sharp and cruel in its contrast. Years ago, in a crowded marketplace, a stranger once accused me of stealing a loaf of bread. I had frozen in fear, too poor to defend myself, too small to fight back. But Jackson had been there. He stood in front of me, his arm shielding me from the crowd, his voice fierce as he declared my innocence. Back then, he had fought for me. Protected me from humiliation.

But tonight? Tonight he had turned away. Pretended I didn’t exist.

We truly lived in different worlds now.

I dragged myself to my feet, limping through the streets until the glowing sign of a pawnshop came into view. My hands shook as I pulled off the necklace, the rings, the bracelets Jackson had given me over the years. All the gifts I thought symbolized his love.

“Please,” I whispered to the clerk. “Check them for me. Tell me if they’re real.”

The man examined each piece with practiced eyes, his expression hardening. He pushed them back across the counter. “All fake. Worthless imitations.”

My knees buckled.

That was it. The last straw.

Everything—our love, his promises, the trinkets I held onto so desperately—nothing but lies.

I left the pawnshop with empty hands, empty heart, and a decision. I was truly done. This relationship can’t be saved anymore.

I walked to the police station, forcing myself to stand tall despite the pain. “I’d like to report what happened tonight,” I said, my voice steady though my insides trembled. “They accused me falsely. They humiliated me. They—”

The officer’s face was unreadable as he took my statement, but even as I spoke, a voice in my head whispered that it wouldn’t matter. Not against them. Not against Jackson’s world.

That night, back home, I tried to rest. Two more days, I told myself. Just two more days and I’d disappear.

But the door slammed open.

Jackson stormed in, fury radiating from him. Before I could rise, his hand struck my cheek with a force that knocked me back against the bed.

“Are you really trying to embarrass me?!” he roared. “You dare file a case against those people after you tried to steal?!”

Tears stung my eyes. “I wasn’t stealing, Jackson—I swear! I just wanted to look at it. It was my grandmother’s locket—”

“Shut up!” His voice cut through me. “You have no right. You can’t win. You don’t have the money to fight this case. So drop it! Enough embarrassment already! You’re just a useless bitch, do you hear me? I regret bringing you here. I should have left you in that scrappy apartment where you belonged.”

My tears finally fell, hot and unstoppable, trailing down my bruised skin. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe even guilt.

But before I could speak, another voice cut through the tension.

“Jackson.”

His mother stood in the doorway, her presence commanding. Nathalia’s expression was calm, but her eyes glittered with quiet cruelty.

“Don’t be too harsh on her,” she said smoothly. “She’s hurt and embarrassed.”

She approached me, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. Just cancel the case, and I’ll pay for the locket. You can have it back. After all, it was your grandmother’s, wasn’t it?”

“Mom, stop spoiling her. She’ll think she deserves more. Next thing you know, she’ll become a gold digger.”

He turned to me, eyes sharp once more. “Don’t embarrass me again, Cassandra. If you do, the wedding won’t happen.” Then he left, the slam of the door echoing through the hollow space he’d left behind.

I sat frozen, staring at the ground, until Nathalia leaned closer.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, yanking it back so hard I gasped.

“You better be gone before the wedding,” she whispered into my ear, her voice laced with venom. Of course, she was just pretending a while ago. “Because my son never deserved you. If you dare to embarrass this family again, you’ll be dead.”

She shoved me down, my body hitting the cold floor. The emerald necklace around my throat gleamed mockingly as she turned and walked out, leaving me crumpled and trembling in the dark.

Later that night, my phone buzzed.

Through blurry eyes, I reached for it, hoping it was my friend. Hoping it was anyone who still remembered me.

But it wasn’t.

The call was from an unknown number.

“Hey, Miss Cassandra. I’m Ryle, Jackson’s greatest rival. What do you say about marrying me instead?”