I turned my head in a daze and caught my reflection in the glass window.

A bunny-girl outfit. Every inch of it obscene.

Fuzzy rabbit ears on a headband, a skirt so sheer it was nearly transparent with a slit cut all the way to my waist, and a fluffy white pom-pom tail pinned just above my backside.

My bare back was a raw mess of torn flesh.

Alma let out a little "Oops," sticking her tongue out playfully. "I must've grabbed the wrong outfit. You won't blame me, will you, Damien?"

He froze for a split second, then patted the back of her hand. "You were in a rush. Mistakes happen. How could I ever blame you?"

"But won't the guests think I did it on purpose?" she murmured, pouting.

"They won't." His voice was certain. Then he seized my wrist and dragged me onto the stage.

My body had no strength left. I stumbled after him like a rag doll.

His steady voice carried through the microphone across the entire banquet hall. "Thank you all for attending my engagement party. This is my fiancée. She has a rather... bold sense of style, including her choice of clothing."

"I've always respected her preferences, and I'm sure distinguished guests like yourselves won't mind."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Rich people really do play different games. Marrying a woman like that into the family."

"What do you know? That's exactly the type that hooks a man. That waist, those curves... mm-mm."

"Don't be naive. A trophy like her is just for show. He'll still have his fun on the side."

Someone called out loudly, "Mr. Ashford, what happened to her back?"

He paused, slipped off his jacket, and draped it over my shoulders. "Just a bit of bedroom fun. Apologies for the eyeful."

The press section erupted. Every reporter looked like they could already see tomorrow's front page.

Shutters clicked in a relentless barrage, camera flashes merging into a solid wall of white light that burned my eyes shut.

I stood rigid on that stage, stripped bare in every way that mattered, with nowhere to hide under the weight of a thousand stares.

Somewhere in the roar of gossip and laughter,

a cold, mechanical voice cut through my skull.

[System upgrade progress: 99%.]

[Initiating countdown to world departure...]

The reporters finally cleared out. Damien hauled me into a back room, his expression black as a storm.

The first thing out of his mouth was an accusation. "When are these wounds going to heal? You're really getting addicted to this little act, aren't you?"

"Making it look like we owe you something. Did you do this on purpose?"

My voice came out hoarse. "Nobody owes anyone anything. Damien, we're even now."

"From here on out, we go our separate ways."

Damien's brow creased. He grabbed my wrist. "What do you mean, 'even'? What do you mean, 'separate ways'? Stop talking nonsense."

"The engagement is done. Once the wedding is over, you'll be Mrs. Ashford. Officially."

He paused. The jut of my wrist bone pressed sharp against his palm, and his tone softened a fraction.

"I won't treat you badly. You'll have the kind of wealth and status most people couldn't dream of in a lifetime."

I looked at him. The calm in my eyes unsettled him. "No..."

"Enough. Stop saying things you don't mean." He cut me off before I could finish, shooting to his feet. Something flickered behind his eyes, quick and panicked.

"I need to see to the guests. Clean up your wounds. And stop embarrassing me."

He tossed gauze and a bottle of antiseptic onto the table and slammed the door on his way out.

I didn't move.

I was leaving soon. Medicine or no medicine, what difference did it make.

I lay down on the cot and waited for the moment to come.

But someone couldn't let me have even that.

Alma shoved the door open, venom dripping from every word. "What are you playing dead for now?"

"Let me make one thing clear. No matter what stunts you pull, Damien will always choose me."

"So what if you marry him? Even when I'm the one who's wrong, he'll protect me just like he did out there and grind you under his heel."

I didn't bother opening my eyes.

Her voice dropped low, laced with vicious delight. "You didn't know, did you? That miscarriage you had? It happened because I drank herbicide."

My eyes flew open.

"You were writhing in pain, bleeding everywhere. I watched the whole thing, and I loved every second of it." Her shoulders trembled with quiet laughter. "Damien knew too. But he never blamed me."

Every drop of blood in my body went still.

No wonder he'd had tears in his own eyes that day, yet ordered everyone not to investigate.

"This child wasn't meant to be. There's no use dwelling on it."

"We'll have another. I promise you."

The fresh flowers replaced daily for weeks. The sudden trips. The gifts that came out of nowhere. All of it had been to keep me distracted.

But that child was the one thing I'd wanted to leave behind for him, something to remember me by once I was gone.

I ground my teeth until they ached. "That baby was innocent. It wasn't even born yet."

She scoffed. "Blame the little bastard for picking the wrong mother."

Rage surged through me. I forced myself upright and slapped her across the face with everything I had.

She didn't hit back. Instead, she ripped the bedsheet free and set it on fire.

Then she splashed gasoline she'd hidden behind the cabinet across the floor.

Flames roared to life. She let out a piercing scream.

The fire alarm shrieked overhead, and frantic footsteps pounded closer from the hallway.

She turned to me with a slow, curling smile.

"So tell me. Who do you think he'll save first this time?"

I looked at that radiant, grinning face and sank my teeth into her neck. The taste of rust flooded my mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Damien's roar exploded from the doorway.

"Damien! She hit me, she bit me, she's trying to burn me alive! Save me!" Alma's voice cracked into a wail instantly, and she crumpled toward him, trembling.

In the same breath, a boot slammed into my chest and sent me flying.

Damien scooped Alma into his arms and glared down at me where I lay crumpled on the floor. "You want to die?!"

My lips parted. No words came out.

There was no point in arguing, because the System's voice had already begun.

[System upgrade complete. Host will now be extracted from this world.]

[Detected: Host has exceeded mission parameters. Triggering newest function — 'Truth Revealed'!]

[Target: Damien Ashford. Every misunderstanding from the past will be brought to light.]

His eyes met mine, and whatever he saw in them made his body lock up.

"We'll deal with this later. Stay here, don't move. I'm coming right back for you."

He turned and carried her away.

My consciousness began to pull loose.

I watched his silhouette flicker through the flames, and a laugh slipped out of me.

Damien, there is no "later" for us.