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.