My hands shook as I wound the gauze around my thigh, wrapping it again and again until the sharp sting faded into a dull, pulsing ache.

When I finally finished, I lifted my eyes to the mirror. The emerald necklace still hung at my collarbone, glittering cruelly against skin that had cried itself raw. My eyes were swollen, my lashes clumped with dried tears, and my leg was buried beneath layers of white cloth—like a secret I could never truly cover.

In that moment, the truth settled over me with terrifying clarity.

I couldn’t stay here any longer.

I pushed myself upright, ignoring the protest in my muscles, and walked straight to the closet. There were no tears this time. I dragged my suitcases out and began filling them without hesitation. Then I gathered everything else—the letters he once wrote, the photos of our happier days, the tiny mementos I had guarded like treasures—and dumped them in a heap on the floor.

Instead of boxing them up like before, I lit a match.

The fire swallowed our past in seconds, ink bleeding into ash, paper curling into nothingness.

I was finished.

But just as I lifted my luggage, the front door flew open.

Dorian stormed in, eyes darting between the charred remains on the carpet and the row of packed suitcases at my feet.

“What the hell happened here?” he barked. “Why are our things burned? What are you packing for? And why does it smell like smoke in here?”

I looked at him calmly. “I donated them.”

His brows drew together. “Donated? And the bags? Where are you planning to go?”

“A vacation,” I said faintly.

“A vacation?” he repeated sharply. “Our wedding is around the corner and you’re talking about trips without telling me? Is this because of yesterday? Camille, I already apologized.”

Sorry. That word again.

He raked a hand through his hair and started pacing. “You know her family is backing the merger. I couldn’t embarrass her—if she loses face, the deal collapses. I’m doing this for our future. For us.”

My gaze drifted to his legs—the same ones that once knelt before me when he had nothing but broken promises and hope in his eyes.

Now they had walked me straight into heartbreak.

“Please,” he said more gently, reaching for my fingers. “Just give me a little more time. Once this is over, I’ll put you first. I swear.”

I couldn’t speak. My chest felt packed with stones.

Then his eyes fell to my bare hand. “Where’s your ring?”

I stiffened. “I took it off. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”

Something unreadable crossed his face before he pulled me into a hollow hug. “We’ll go to the auction tomorrow. I’ll buy you a better one. Whatever you like.”

I nodded, numb. Just a few more days.

That night, I opened my bank app.

A new transaction glowed on the screen—twenty million dollars.

From Vivienne.

The bargain was complete.

The next morning, I stepped outside and froze. Yvette was already seated beside Dorian in the front of his car.

“Oh—sorry,” she said lightly. “His mother insisted I tag along today. She said I’d be more suitable for something like this. You’ve never been to an auction before, right?”

Dorian met my eyes in the mirror. “It’s business again. Don’t overthink it.”

So I climbed into the back seat, staring out the tinted window. I remembered how Dorian once dreamed about buying us a tiny car. We’ll drive everywhere together, he had said, smiling like the future was ours.

That future had vanished.

At the venue, cameras flashed endlessly. Dorian and Yvette stood close, laughing easily, looking every bit the perfect couple. Reporters whispered their names with awe.

When someone asked who I was, Dorian replied smoothly, “Just a friend.”

The words tore straight through me.

Later, Yvette leaned toward me and murmured, “See? You were never meant to be here.”

I clenched my dress so tightly my nails bit into my skin.

Eventually, I stood, intending to leave quietly—but something on display stopped me cold.

A gold locket.

It lay on velvet, glowing softly under the lights. It was identical to my grandmother’s—the one I sold long ago to pay for Dorian’s medical bills.

He had once sworn to buy it back for me.

Trembling, I reached out—

“Thief!” a woman suddenly screamed, shoving me. “She’s stealing!”

The noise around me felt like blades slicing through my skin.

“I didn’t take anything,” I pleaded, gripping the golden locket so tightly my fingers went numb. “I only picked it up to check it. It’s mine—it was my grandmother’s. I planned to buy it. I swear.”

My explanation vanished beneath mocking laughter.

“She’s lost her mind,” someone jeered.

“Look at her—acting like she belongs,” another voice scoffed.

The crowd closed in, eyes full of contempt. Heat flooded my face as whispers became accusations. Then someone gestured toward the jewelry I was wearing.

“Those stones aren’t even real!”

A woman seized my wrist and tore off the bracelet Dorian once bought for me. “Cheap copy,” she said, tossing it away as if it were trash.

Then something hit my shoulder.

A roll of bread.

Next came wine splashing down my dress. Then plates, napkins, scraps—whatever they could throw. The crowd rained humiliation on me until I felt smaller than dust.

Through it all, I searched desperately for Dorian. I scanned every face, praying I’d see him stepping forward, defending me, stopping the madness.

He never did.

He stood there like I was a stranger.

That was the part that broke me.

They forced me out of the building, shoving and striking until I collapsed on the pavement outside. My gown was ruined, my body aching, and my heart… beyond repair.

No one followed. No one helped.

As I lay there, another memory cut through me—years ago, when a vendor falsely accused me of stealing bread at a market. Back then, Dorian had shielded me with his own body, shouting for everyone to back off, proving my innocence.

But tonight he had turned away.

We no longer belonged to the same world.

I staggered to my feet and limped through the streets until I saw the faint glow of a pawnshop sign. My hands trembled as I removed the necklace, the rings, every piece of jewelry he had ever given me.

“Please,” I told the clerk softly. “Tell me the truth. Are these genuine?”

He studied them carefully, then slid them back toward me. “They’re replicas. None of it has value.”

My legs nearly gave out.

That was when everything finally collapsed. His love, his vows, the symbols I treasured—they were all lies.

I left with nothing in my hands and nothing in my heart.

From there, I went straight to the police station. “I want to file a complaint about what happened tonight,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. But even as I spoke, I knew it wouldn’t change anything. Their world didn’t answer to people like me.

Later that night, I was barely lying down when the door burst open.

Dorian charged in, rage blazing across his face. Before I could react, he slapped me so hard I fell back onto the bed.

“Have you lost your mind?” he shouted. “You think you can accuse those people after trying to steal from them?”

“I didn’t steal anything!” I cried. “That locket was my grandmother’s—”

“Enough!” he snapped. “You don’t stand a chance in court. You don’t have the money or the power. Drop it now before you disgrace me again. You’re nothing but dead weight. I should have left you rotting in that slum apartment.”

Tears spilled freely now. For an instant, something wavered in his eyes—but it vanished just as quickly.

Then Vivienne appeared in the doorway.

“Dorian,” she said calmly. “Don’t be so cruel. She’s clearly humiliated.”

She approached me with a smile that never touched her eyes. “Cancel the report, Camille. I’ll pay for the locket. You can have it back.”

Dorian scoffed. “Stop encouraging her. She’ll start thinking she deserves things.”

He turned back to me. “Embarrass me again and there won’t be a wedding.” Then he left.

I didn’t move until Vivienne bent down and yanked my hair, forcing my head up.

“Disappear before the ceremony,” she whispered. “If you bring shame to this family again, you’ll regret it.”

She shoved me to the floor and walked away.

Hours later, my phone vibrated in the darkness.

With blurred vision, I picked it up—hoping it was my friend.

It wasn’t.

A man’s unfamiliar voice came through. “Miss Camille, this is Landon. Dorian’s biggest competitor. How would you feel about becoming my wife instead?”

My body went rigid as I tightened my grip on the phone. I didn’t really know this man on the other end of the line. All I knew about him came from Dorian—how his tone sharpened every time Landon’s name was mentioned, how hatred rolled off him whenever their rivalry came up. And strangely, that alone was enough.

If Dorian loathed him that deeply, then perhaps Landon was the sharpest blade I could use to cut Dorian down.

A cold smile crept onto my lips. My voice stayed calm, but my chest felt like it was burning from the inside.

“Then maybe you should be the one to come get me.”

His laugh was slow and confident, the sound of someone who never doubted himself.

“Running away from your groom? I like that idea.”

A weak chuckle slipped from me. “Tomorrow, then,” I murmured, ending the call before I could change my mind.

My heart pounded—not with fear, but with something darker and far more dangerous.

Revenge.

Then I turned—and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Dorian was standing in the doorway, watching me with narrowed eyes.

“Who was on the phone just now?” he asked.

I forced my expression to remain relaxed despite the panic in my veins. “Mara,” I replied lightly. “You remember her—my best friend. She’s coming to the wedding.”

He stared at me for another moment before speaking again. “Actually…” His tone shifted, suddenly casual. “I think we’ll need to delay the wedding.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs. “Delay it?”

He moved closer, sighing. “Something urgent came up overseas. I have to leave on a business trip. Once I’m back, I’ll focus on us again.”

I nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting in a brittle smile. “Of course.”

“You’re not upset?” he asked carefully.

I shook my head. “I get it.”

His fingers brushed my hair, guilt briefly flashing across his face. “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Should I help you pack?” I offered quietly.

He gave me a tired smile. “That would be great.”

That night I folded his clothes, lined up his shoes, zipped his suitcase with hands that felt strangely calm. When he kissed my forehead goodbye, convinced everything was still under his control, I stood alone in the penthouse after he left.

To distract myself, I began tidying up—and noticed his laptop still open.

I knew I shouldn’t touch it.

But I did.

The email on the screen made my blood run cold.

“Maldives Wedding Confirmation — Dorian & Yvette.”

I laughed aloud, a hollow, broken sound. “So that’s your business trip.”

My phone buzzed.

A message from Yvette—along with a photo of her kissing Dorian, his hands buried in her hair.

Doesn’t he look happier with me?

I stared at it for a long time before blocking her number.

The next morning, Dorian texted like nothing had happened: I’ll buy you something nice when I’m back.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I slipped on my coat and walked toward the exit.

The butler looked up. “Madam, where are you heading?”

“Just to buy something for the wedding,” I replied smoothly. “I’ll take a taxi.”

I left my packed bags behind on purpose. If anyone was watching, they would think I was staying.

But around the corner waited a black limousine.

The window slid down.

Landon smiled at me—sharp, unreadable. “So, ready to disappear?”

A flicker of fear passed through me, but I pushed it aside. Anything was better than the prison I’d lived in.

“I am,” I said.

Hours later, as his private jet lifted into the sky, I removed my SIM card, staring one last time at Dorian’s name. Then I tossed it away.

“Goodbye,” I whispered.

---

Dorian’s POV

I couldn’t stop pacing. Camille hadn’t replied to any of my messages.

“Dorian,” Yvette purred, wrapping her arms around me. “Why bother with her? She’s probably throwing another tantrum. We’re the ones getting married—”

I shrugged her off. “Don’t.”

She smiled lazily. “Don’t remind you that you belong with me?”

I glared at her. “This is business. I’m still marrying Camille.”

She laughed. “After everything you did to her? Please.”

Her words struck harder than I expected. I pulled out my phone.

Camille’s name was gone.

Blocked.

My stomach dropped.

I called the butler immediately. “Where is Camille? Why isn’t she answering me?”

A pause. Then his answer: “She left yesterday, sir… and never returned.”