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.

Yvette could still feel the sting on her cheek. The humiliation of Dorian striking her, of being dismissed for that lowly woman, burned hotter than the red mark on her skin.

She paced the length of the room, her fury spilling out in shrill words.

“He dares hurt me for her? Me?!” she spat, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “If he doesn’t marry me, he’ll regret it. You know it as much as I do, Vivienne. Without my family’s support, without me covering your tracks, Dorian will learn the truth. He’ll know you had bankrupted the company because of your gambling when he disappeared. He’ll know the mess you hid from him.”

Vivienne’s face hardened, though her voice remained calm. “Lower your voice, Yvette. I am doing the best I can. I even gave Camille ten million dollars to ensure she disappears. She will never come back. This should all be simple.”

“Simple?” Yvette scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Your son doesn’t love me anymore when he should be. He’s still chasing after her! And this marriage? Postpone! What am I gonna tell them? My parents!”

Vivienne’s gaze was sharp, unforgiving. “Then make him love you. Stop whining. Seduce him. Better yet, make yourself pregnant. That way, he will have no choice but to keep you by his side. You think tears and shouting will win him? Do what it takes. We can just tell them something happened so we have to postpone it!”

Yvette’s lips parted in outrage, but she found no words to argue.

She only hissed through her teeth, fury flashing in her eyes. “That wretched Camille… she’s ruined everything.”

Vivienne’s tone turned cold, final. “Enough. We’ll talk about this again when we return. For now, we have to cancel everything before he makes more foolish decisions.”

Yvette bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, cursing Camille’s name under her breath.

Back at the estate, Dorian’s car screeched into the driveway. He burst through the door, ignoring the startled greetings of the staff. His chest heaved as he called her name again and again, his voice echoing against the high ceilings.

No answer. He ran upstairs, into their room. The moment he entered, the sight nearly broke him.

On the dresser lay two rings. The first, the diamond-studded engagement ring he had given her under the glittering lights of the city. The second, smaller and worn—the ring he had once bought with only five dollars in his pocket.

No stone, no shine. Just a simple band he had pressed into her palm years ago, his voice trembling with certainty. “Camille, I may have nothing now. But one day, I’ll give you everything. Until then, let this ring remind you of my promise.”

He sank to his knees, his fingers clutching the ring until his knuckles turned white.

Memories struck him like lightning—their laughter in that tiny apartment, the nights they shared a single blanket, the mornings when she brewed cheap coffee and teased him for being dramatic about the taste.

“One day, Dorian,” she had whispered into his ear when they lay together, “we’ll leave this place and start our family somewhere peaceful. And when that day comes, you won’t need to give me the world. You’ll just need to stay.”

But he hadn’t stayed. He had obeyed his mother. He had let Yvette walk all over her. And now… Camille was gone.

“Find her,” Dorian barked at the butler, his voice breaking. “I don’t care how—call every driver, check every street, search every corner. She left in a car, you said? Then find out who the hell was behind the wheel.”

“Yes, sir,” the butler said, bowing quickly before rushing out.

Dorian remained on his knees, the rings digging into his palms as he called her number again. Each time, the call ended with the same hollow response—blocked.

His voice trembled as he whispered into the empty room, “Please, Camille. Come back. Don’t do this to me. Not now.”

The hours dragged on, each second heavier than the last. He thought of every moment he had failed her—the anniversary he forgot, the dinners where she was left alone, the cruel words he spat just to please his mother.

The memories clawed at him until tears slid down his face.

And then, in the middle of his despair, a thought struck him.

Mara. Her best friend.

Dorian stumbled to his feet, wiping at his face. “Mara,” he muttered, reaching for his phone. He dialed her number, praying she would answer.

“Hello?” her voice finally came, cautious.

“Mara—it’s me, Dorian. Do you know where Camille is?”

There was a pause. “I thought you two were fine. She told me you made up, that the wedding was still on. That’s why I haven’t seen her. I was supposed to go there now. Wait… what’s happening?”

Dorian’s chest tightened. “No. She’s not here. She’s gone. Didn’t she tell you where she is? She’s not really with you?”

Mara sighed heavily, her tone sharp with disappointment. “No. I don’t know… Oh, god. Of course, she was heartbroken, Dorian. Do you really think she could just smile and go on after what you did with Yvette? She told me she wanted to call it off. But after yesterday… she never replied. Nothing since.”

His grip on the phone trembled. “She’s not home, Mara. She never came back.”

The silence on the other end was heavy. Then Mara spoke softly, almost sorrowfully. “Then you’ve truly hurt her, Dorian. Hurt her enough for her to leave everything behind.”

His vision blurred with tears. The weight of it all bore down on him—her absence, his guilt, the promise he had broken.

But beneath it, a flicker of resolve burned.

“I might know where to find her,” Dorian whispered, his voice hoarse. “Our old apartment. She once told me that when everything fell apart, she’d go back there… because that’s where we dreamed of starting our family.”

Without another word, he began packing his things again, his heart pounding with desperate hope.

“Then you truly have hurt her for her to leave like that…”

Those were the last words I heard as Mara’s voice carried faintly through the room. She wasn’t talking to me. She was on the phone—with him. With Dorian.

I froze, the sweater I had been folding slipping from my hands.

My chest tightened as if the air itself had turned against me. Mara’s back was to me, her voice taut with anger, and then the call ended abruptly.

The silence that followed was unbearable until Mara sighed and turned to me, her brows drawn in worry. “Are you really sure about this, Cassie? I mean… it seems like he’s looking for you. You could talk, just like the old times when you both had misunderstandings. You used to fix things so easily.”

I shook my head slowly, my throat tightening. “No. Not this time. This isn’t something a talk can fix. He hurt me, Mara. He let me be humiliated in front of everyone. He stood there while they threw food at me, mocked me, treated me like I was dirt. He didn’t even defend me.” My chest burned as I forced the words out. “So no, I won’t let him find me again.”

Her gaze softened, though it didn’t lose its edge. “Do you still love him though?”

I closed my eyes, the silence stretching between us. My lips trembled before I finally whispered, “Yeah. And I don’t think I’d ever not love him. That’s the problem.”

The confession broke something inside me. My body leaned back against the chair, eyes closing as an old memory rose unbidden.

We were in the apartment back then, our world small but enough. The cupboards were almost bare, the fridge humming weakly with only a carton of milk, some leftovers, and cheap coffee inside.

The floorboards creaked whenever we walked, and the peeling wallpaper carried the scent of old paint. But it was home. Our home.

Dorian was bent over the tiny stove, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to make rice and a few vegetables stretch for both of us. The pan hissed as he stirred too quickly, and I laughed from where I sat at the rickety table.

“You’re going to burn it again,” I teased, resting my chin on my hand. “Do you really hate me that much, Dorian? Poisoning me slowly?”

He shot me a mock glare over his shoulder. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a natural-born chef. This is a secret recipe.”

“Secretly inedible, maybe,” I quipped, grinning.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he scooped the unevenly cooked rice onto two chipped plates. The vegetables looked limp, the seasoning almost nonexistent, but he carried them to the table with the pride of a man serving a feast.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, setting the plate in front of me with a grin so wide it made my chest ache. “One day, Camille, I’ll buy you a whole feast. Every day, every meal—you’ll never have to worry about empty cupboards again.”

I stared at him for a moment, the sincerity in his eyes stealing the air from my lungs. Then I shook my head, a soft laugh escaping me as I reached across the table to take his hand.

“Don’t make promises like that. I don’t care about feasts or palaces. Just stay with me. That’s all I want.”

His thumb brushed against my knuckles, rough from working shifts that exhausted him as much as me. He squeezed gently, leaning forward. “I will. I’ll always stay.”

I blinked rapidly, dragging myself back into the present, and Mara reached out to squeeze my hand. “Don’t worry. We’re in an island now. He won’t find us here. You’re safe.”

I nodded, though my chest still ached. “Thank you, Mara. For everything.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “But tell me honestly, Cassie… what are you going to do with Landon? Are you really going to marry him?”

The question sat heavy on my chest. I swallowed hard, my eyes drifting away. “I’m… not sure. I have to think. I can’t make another mistake. Not again. I need to be clear with him before I decide anything.”

Mara squeezed my hand again. “Whatever it is, I’ll be here. Always.”

I gave her a small, weary smile and nodded.

Later that evening, I busied myself with arranging my things. The room smelled faintly of sea breeze, but it couldn’t mask the heaviness in my heart.

As I folded clothes into a suitcase, my hands brushed against something stiff. I pulled it out—an envelope filled with old photographs.

My breath hitched.

It was us. Me and Dorian, back in that little apartment. His smile was wide and carefree, his arm slung around my shoulders as though the world outside didn’t exist. In another photo, I was laughing so hard my eyes had disappeared into crescents, while Dorian looked at me like I was the only thing worth seeing.

I sank onto the bed, clutching the pictures to my chest as the tears finally spilled. They burned as they slid down my cheeks, soaking the photos until the images blurred.

“What happened to us?” I whispered into the silence. “When did we stop being enough for each other?”

The sobs came harder, my body trembling with the weight of everything I’d lost. My chest felt tight, my stomach churning until suddenly I lurched forward.

I barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting, my body rejecting everything at once—food, tears, grief.

When it was over, I pressed my palm against the cool tiles, my body shivering. My head spun, vision darkening at the edges. I stumbled back toward the bed, my knees weak.

And then the dizziness overwhelmed me.

The last thing I saw was the photograph of us slipping from my hand to the floor as I collapsed beside it, my body giving in at last.