Kael knew every weakness I carried. He knew about my asthma. He knew heat could trigger an attack. He knew how the dark suffocated me with fear.

And once—he used to care.

I could still remember the day I was trapped inside the elevator at his company’s skyscraper. The lights had cut out, the air turning heavy and stifling. My lungs locked up, and panic consumed me. I was spiraling, unable to breathe.

He hadn’t hesitated back then. He broke protocol, shouted at his staff to reroute emergency power immediately. The moment the doors opened, he was there, pulling me into his arms, rocking me as he murmured, “You’re safe, I promise. I’m here. Nothing will ever harm you while I’m around.”

But those promises were empty.

Because now? He had thrown me into the basement. A suffocating hole that smelled of rust and damp mold. No windows. No light. Nothing but endless shadows swallowing me alive.

And all of this—because of her.

My throat was raw as I screamed his name. Again. Again. Louder. Desperate.

But only my own voice came back, warped and cruel in the echo of the stone walls. No one came. No one answered.

My chest tightened.

I curled into myself on the cold floor, tears streaking my face as I whispered into the void, “How… how did we fall this far? Did I really let myself believe you cared for me?”

Maybe that was my greatest mistake—believing in Kael at all.

Because the truth was deafening now: I had never been his choice. Just a contract, a convenient signature on paper. And the moment Cassia walked back into his life, I became disposable.

Suddenly, my lungs seized.

I gasped for air, clawing at my chest as heat wrapped around me like a noose. My breathing grew shallow, jagged. My throat tightened like it was closing off.

“Asthma…” I wheezed. “P-please…”

I crawled forward, dragging myself across the floor toward the stairs, my fingers grasping blindly for the door. “Help… someone…”

Nothing. No footsteps. No voice. Only the ringing roar in my ears and the crushing weight in my chest.

Then everything faded to black.

—

When I woke again, the first thing I heard was the steady beep of a monitor. The smell of antiseptic burned in my nose. The light above was dim, but it wasn’t darkness. I tried to move, but every part of my body ached as though I had been trampled.

“You’re awake.” A nurse appeared at my side. Her tone was soft, though her eyes carried hesitation. “Please, don’t push yourself, Miss Amara. You’ve got bruising, insect bites… and your breathing is still unstable.”

My lips were cracked. “Wh-where am I?”

“In a private hospital,” she explained. “You were discovered unconscious in a basement. Brought here by… I believe, a household butler.”

I blinked slowly. “Not… Kael?”

She shook her head. “No. No visits. No calls.”

My heart fractured into pieces.

He had left me there to die.

That was it. That was the breaking point. No more waiting. No more hoping for something that never existed.

Later that afternoon, I booked the first available flight to Germany—the same country where I had sent my brother, praying for the day he’d wake up. Then I forced myself to eat, to take my medicine, to shower even with the IV still taped to my skin.

If I didn’t care for myself, no one would.

That night, wrapped in a hospital blanket, I distracted myself by scrolling through my phone. That’s when the video appeared.

An auction.

Kael, standing beside Cassia, bidding outrageous amounts on anything her eyes lingered on. Cassia laughed sweetly, leaning to kiss his cheek as if the world belonged to them.

Comments flashed under the clip:

“He’s definitely her sugar daddy.”

“No, look at them—they’re practically married.”

“Wait… isn’t that Kael Smith?”

“Is she his real wife?”

My stomach twisted painfully.

We were never public. Kael always said it was to protect me. “The press is cruel,” he used to claim. “They’ll tear you apart.”

But the truth hit me like a blade. I was never supposed to be acknowledged. I had only ever been a secret—someone to fill his bed and legal obligations—until Cassia reclaimed her throne.

My phone slipped from my hand. I buried my face into the pillow. No tears came. I was past them. My heart was too numb. I closed my eyes and whispered to myself: ten more days. Just survive ten more days.

I thought exhaustion would shield me. That sleep might dull the pain.

I was wrong.

I woke to heat searing my skin, pressing mercilessly against my ribs. It was too much, scorching, unbearable.

“Ahhh!” I shrieked, bolting upright.

My eyes snapped open.

And there she was. Cassia. At the foot of my hospital bed. Holding a heating pad, pressing it against my side with a cruel little smirk.

“Oops,” she sang, tilting her head. “Too warm for your fragile lungs?”

I recoiled, trying to twist away, but she clicked her tongue and leaned closer, her smile dripping poison.

“Still clinging to life, I see. But really, what’s the point?” Her eyes glittered with malice. “Do you want to keep dragging this out? Or would you rather just die already, so I can finally have Kael without your pathetic shadow in the way?”

I watched her from where I lay on the hospital bed, every muscle sore, my chest still fragile from the suffocating attack. Yet none of those physical pains compared to the sting of her words—and the cruel certainty in her posture, like she had already claimed victory.

My voice came out quiet, but there was no tremor in it. “I don’t want to compete with you.”

She let out a mocking laugh, dismissive, but I didn’t stop.

“You’ve already won, haven’t you? He brought you back into his life. He picked you over me. Isn’t that enough?”

Cassia’s smirk only grew sharper, unyielding. “Enough?” she echoed, her tone sweet and poisonous. She stepped nearer, leaning in so her words dripped directly into my ears. “What I want is more than victory. I want you erased.”

She lifted her hand, deliberately showing off a ring that glittered viciously under the sterile hospital light. A ring I had never seen before.

“Kael and I are getting married, Amara. For real this time. Not as a deal. Not as a contract. But because we love each other,” she said, her lips curved in a smile that cut like a blade. “So gather whatever scraps of dignity you still cling to and disappear. Leave permanently.”

The bitterness burned down my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it. “You don’t have to threaten me,” I replied, steadying my gaze on hers. “I’m already leaving. I just need a few days.”

“Perfect,” she replied in a clipped tone. “Make sure you vanish, and never dare step foot back here.”

I inclined my head slightly. “Then make certain Kael doesn’t come searching for me.”

Her laughter burst out, ringing sharp and cruel against the hospital walls. “Oh, poor thing,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You still think he would? He hasn’t even bothered to set foot here, has he?”

My chest constricted, but I forced my face to stay unreadable.

“You want evidence?” she asked, her voice syrupy with mock concern. She slipped her hand into her purse before I could reply.

She pulled out her phone, tapped, and let the recording play.

Kael’s voice filled the room, low, harsh, and filled with disdain. “Amara? She’s meaningless. Just someone to warm my bed. A glorified caretaker, nothing more. I never felt love for her. She was… useful, that’s it. You’re the only one I’ll ever love, Cassia. Forever. She’s disposable, and soon, I’ll discard her completely. You have my word.”

My stomach dropped, even though deep inside I had already expected those exact words.

Cassia tilted her head, her eyes glittering with cruelty. “Still want to believe he’ll run after you, the way he chased after me?”

My jaw tightened. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to give her that satisfaction. I had shed enough tears for him already.

“Get out of my room,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “Stay away from me.”

Before she could reply, the door banged open.

“What the hell did you just say to her?”

Kael’s voice boomed like thunder.

My head whipped toward the sound, and there he stood—sharp features hardened, his eyes cold and blazing with fury.

“She came here out of concern while you’re in this state, and that’s how you repay her?” he barked. “You should be grateful. You should be apologizing.”

I blinked, disbelief clouding my thoughts. “Apologize?” I repeated, my voice hollow. “For what?”

His expression darkened, jaw tightening. “Are you honestly asking? You’re the reason she was hurt in the first place. You’re the one who pushed her away from me. If you hadn’t meddled, she would never have been dragged into this mess. It all circles back to you.”

Something deep within me fractured then. No misunderstanding, no denial. He truly believed it.

I stared at him—really stared—and realized I no longer recognized the man before me.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” I whispered, my voice raw. “Just leave. Both of you. I need rest.”

But Kael wasn’t finished.

He stormed across the room and clamped his hand around my arm.

“No, Amara. You don’t get to rest.”

“Kael, stop—”

He yanked me upright, uncaring of the IV stuck in my hand or the searing pain that shot through my ribs.

“Have you forgotten?” His voice was venom. “You’re supposed to be handling my birthday celebration. It’s two days away, and you’re still lying here pretending to be some helpless victim?”

“I am a victim,” I whispered, each word trembling with anguish.

He didn’t acknowledge it. Or perhaps he simply chose not to.

“Get up. You’ve got work waiting.”

I turned my gaze toward the nurse, silently pleading—but she looked away, refusing to intervene.

A scream clawed at my throat. I wanted to collapse, vanish, escape this nightmare—but I didn’t.

I forced myself to rise. Slowly. My body quivered. My side burned. My heart bled.

And still—I stood. Because all I had left to hold on to was this: just a few more days.

My brother still hadn’t opened his eyes.

Every morning and night, I stared at my phone waiting for something—an update, a call, a text—anything to tell me he was improving. But nothing ever came. The doctors repeated the same lines like a broken record: stable, yes, but still unresponsive. No progress. No difference.

And Kael? Not once did he bring it up.

Not even a single question about the only family I had left. He didn’t even bother to pretend interest. Instead, I bit down on the ache in my chest, kept my face blank, and carried out every single duty expected of me. I handled the flowers, tested menus, inspected decorations, arranged every last detail for his grand birthday party. All of it. Alone.

Meanwhile, Kael and Cassia were parading through designer shops, laughing together as they tried on jeweled chokers, bickered playfully over couture dresses, and posed like they were starring in their own romance drama. They basked in luxury and adoration while I lived on sleepless nights, raw hands, and exhaustion that gnawed at my bones.

“You’re incredible, Amara,” Cassia would purr sweetly whenever Kael happened to walk by, looping her arm through mine for show. “Truly, thank you so much for all this. I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard?”

But the second his back was turned, her nails would dig into my skin, her eyes sharp and merciless. “Keep grinning like a loyal servant,” she’d hiss. “That role suits you.”

By the time the actual night of Kael’s birthday arrived, I was held together by nothing but sheer willpower. My body screamed in protest, my head throbbed endlessly, and my lungs were still far from healed—but I forced myself to appear. Someone had shoved a silver dress into my hands at the last moment, and I slipped it on, entering the glittering ballroom as if I belonged there.

Just one night. That was all I needed to endure. After tonight, I would be gone.

The documents had arrived earlier that morning—my name officially erased from the records. Amara had ceased to exist.

The venue shimmered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers painted the room in golden light, the clinking of champagne glasses mingled with the soft hum of violins, and camera flashes captured every glittering detail. At the center of it all stood Kael, radiating untouchable charm, his arm snugly wrapped around Cassia as he smiled at her like she was the only star in his universe.

He even raised a toast in her name. “And I want to give a special thanks to Cassia for her help in making this evening possible. Please, everyone, applaud her. She has always stood by me.”

The hall erupted in claps. I remained hidden in the sea of guests, my presence reduced to nothing more than that of hired help. No acknowledgment. No gratitude. As if the weeks of work had all been Cassia’s doing.

The lie was seamless. The crowd swallowed it whole. They believed she was the woman Kael had kept hidden. They thought she was his true wife. Not me. Never me.

I turned to leave quietly before the music and dancing began, but an event staffer stopped me, whispering that I was needed to serve drinks at the VIP section. His section.

My throat tightened. My hands shook. But I nodded anyway.

Carrying the tray, I walked forward, each step heavier than the last. And then, before I could steady myself, everything unraveled.

Cassia slid her chair back just so, the heel of her stiletto catching the edge of my dress. I stumbled, the tray tipping forward as crystal glasses toppled and shattered, spilling liquid across the marble floor with a deafening crash.

Gasps filled the air. The hem of Cassia’s gown was splattered, sticky with juice.

“Oh no! Are you all right?” she cried theatrically, clutching her hands to her mouth, her tone dripping with fake horror.

Kael’s fury was instant, his glare scorching me. “Amara, what the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you even manage serving drinks?”

I pushed myself up slowly, my knees raw, my dignity torn. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t bother making excuses,” he cut in sharply. “Pathetic.”

Before I could defend myself further, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Whispers spread, people gasped, phones buzzed, and the giant projector screen suddenly lit up.

And then I saw them. Images. Edited, fabricated, obscene. Photos of me naked, with Kael, in compromising poses—intimate touches, stolen moments twisted into something filthy.

The murmurs became daggers.

“Wait, isn’t she supposed to be his wife?”

“I thought she was only the planner.”

“That looks exactly like Kael.”

“Then what is she? Mistress? Affair?”

Dozens of eyes seared into me, their judgment suffocating.

Kael’s expression darkened, not with outrage at the lies, but with disgust at being connected to me at all.

He seized the microphone. “She is not my wife,” he declared, voice cold and sharp enough to cut through the chaos. “She’s nothing but a woman who tried to seduce me. A mistress, nothing more. Cassia is my wife—the love of my life.”

My entire body went cold.

Then the security guards appeared, their hands rough, pushing and pulling me toward the exit.

“Get her out!” Kael barked. “I don’t want her ruining tonight.”

And just like that, I was dragged away.