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.”

The silence of the hotel was suffocating. My chest ached, a gnawing emptiness that grew heavier with every unanswered call.

I threw another suit into my luggage, grabbing the phone with my other hand. “Book me a flight,” I barked at the airline. “Earliest one to the States. I don’t care what it costs—just get me there tonight.”

Behind me, Yvette’s voice sliced through the room. “Seriously, Dorian? You’re going to postpone our wedding for that? We’re in Maldives! Everyone’s expecting this wedding!”

I stilled, my hands clenching into fists. “I don’t care. I’m going back to Camille.”

She crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “What about the merger? The contracts? You know you need this. And for what? Because she didn’t come home last night? And is not replying to you?” Her tone dripped with mockery. “If you ask me, she’s just making this a big deal to get your attention.”

I didn’t reply and just continued thinking about Camille.

“Come on! She’s such a nothing, poor bitch, who’s clinging to you like a parasite!” she added.

Something in me snapped. I turned, my palm striking her cheek before I even realized what I’d done. The sound cracked through the air, followed by her sharp cry.

“You dare—” Yvette clutched her face, eyes wide with disbelief. “You dare hurt me for her? For that woman?” Her voice pitched higher, hysterical. “My parents will hear of this! They’ll never accept you after this!”

“What’s going on here?”

My mother’s voice cut in, calm but venomous, as she stepped into the room. Vivienne’s sharp eyes darted from Yvette’s trembling form to the half-packed luggage at my feet.

“He’s postponing the wedding to chase after her,” Yvette spat, her finger pointing at me like an accusation.

Vivienne’s face darkened. “Are you insane, Dorian?”

“No,” I said firmly, turning to meet her gaze. “For once, I’m not. This wedding, this whole thing—it’s fake. It’s all for business. But my marriage to Camille? That’s real. And I won’t give her up.”

Her lips curled in disdain. “She’s nothing but a gold digger.”

“No,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “She’s not. It’s my fault she left. I pushed her away. I hurt her—God, I humiliated her—because I thought I was protecting her. But all I did was destroy the one person who ever stayed.”

My mother’s expression shifted, a cruel sort of amusement in her eyes. “Is that what you think? That she’s innocent?”

“What are you saying?”

“She left you, Dorian,” Vivienne said smoothly. “She asked me for ten million dollars. I transferred it to her account myself.”

My chest tightened. “No. You’re lying.”

“Am I?” She pulled out her phone, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping a few buttons. A video played, Camille’s voice trembling: ‘I’ll take the money. Just prepare it in five days.’

And then—the proof. The transfer, her name etched beside the sum.

My head shook violently. “No… no, she would never…”

“She did,” my mother said simply.

The words struck me like a blade. My knees almost buckled as I staggered back, clutching the edge of the table for support.

My breath caught in my throat, and before I could stop it, a flood of memories came crashing into me.

The hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic. The fog in my head when I first woke up, not knowing who I was, not even my own name.

And her. Camille.

I saw her again as if she were right in front of me. That tiny, dimly lit apartment where she brought me after the doctors released me with no one to claim me.

She had nothing, not even enough space to call it a home, but she gave me what she could.

I remembered waking up on her thin mattress, my body aching, my mind blank. She sat on the floor beside me, peeling potatoes with hands that shook from exhaustion.

“Where… am I?” I croaked, my voice raw.

She looked up, startled, then gave me the smallest, most reassuring smile. “You’re safe. That’s what matters. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Who… are you?” My chest tightened at the thought that I couldn’t even recognize her.

She hesitated, then placed the bowl aside. “I’m Camille. You don’t know me, but I… found you. And until you’re strong enough, I’ll take care of you.”

I remembered the way I stared at her, confused. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

Her lips trembled, but she lifted her chin with quiet resolve. “Because someone has to.”

She had nothing. But she never asked me for anything.

I had promised her the world. And in return, I gave her lies.

“I refuse to believe this,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “No. Not Camille.”

“Then stay blind,” Vivienne hissed. “But understand this—if you go after her, if you choose her over us, you will never step foot as my heir again. You’ll lose everything.”

Her words hung in the air like a curse.

But what was wealth, what was power, when the one person I wanted most was already gone?

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I simply zipped the luggage and walked past her, Yvette’s shrill protests ringing in my ears.

The private jet felt colder than ever as I boarded. My phone was clutched tightly in my hand, the screen lighting up with her name—voicemail, unanswered calls, message after message left unread.

Blocked.

The finality of it carved a hollow into my chest.

As the plane lifted into the night sky, I leaned back, staring blankly at the stars outside the window. Memories haunted me with every breath—her laughter when she burned herself in the kitchen and I scolded her gently, her tearful smile when I swore I’d give her everything once I had the money, her quiet strength when she told me she’d wait for me no matter how long.

And now?

All I could hear was my own voice breaking in the silence.

“Please,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my lips. “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, Camille. I’m so sorry.”

The tears came then, unbidden, hot and relentless. And the bitter fear that when he returned home, she would be gone forever.