Rafael let out a dry laugh, hiding a private little thrill. He had a hunch Alora was bluffing—using her resignation as a power play. He, better than anyone, knew how badly she wanted to be his personal secretary. In the past, she’d moved heaven and earth to win his favor for that role. If he actually accepted her resignation, she’d be the one hurting, not him.

Rafael decided she needed a reality check. She’d crossed the line this time. “Process her resignation,” he told Jackie, his assistant. “And when you do, make sure she knows—if she walks out, she doesn’t get to come back.”

Jackie winced, not liking the idea of delivering a message that harsh. He thought about telling Rafael that Alora seemed serious this time, that she probably wasn’t coming back. But one look at Rafael’s stone-cold expression, and the words died in his throat. He nodded and got to work finalizing her resignation paperwork.

Once Jackie signed off, Alora made quick work of the formalities. Back at her hotel, her phone buzzed almost immediately: “Meet me at the Cranberry Lounge, room 8808.”

The Cranberry Lounge was Rafael’s favorite spot for socializing, but after the breakup, Alora wanted nothing to do with him. She was about to type out a refusal when another message came in: “If you want your parents’ locket back, be here in thirty minutes.”

Desperate to get back the keepsake from her parents, Alora didn’t waste a second getting to the Cranberry Lounge.

When she stepped into the dimly lit private room, Alora spotted Rafael on a plush wine-red leather sofa, Tessa tucked comfortably beside him. Tessa’s chin was tilted up just enough to show off her usual pride and charm. Rafael hovered over her protectively, every gesture dripping with care.

The sight stung, a sharp ache in her chest, but she forced herself to focus on why she was there. She pushed down the bitterness and walked in.

“Apologize to Tessa!” Rafael’s voice cut through the room as he slammed his glass onto the floor near Alora’s feet. “How dare you send thugs after her to steal that locket? If Patrick hadn’t been there, who knows what those lowlifes would’ve done!”

His friends were quick to pile on. “Alora, that was low!” one snapped. “Jealousy doesn’t give you the right to go after her!” another added. “Apologize to Tessa, and maybe Rafael will forgive you,” a third said, calling her “Tess” with a warmth Alora had never been shown.

Alora stood there, all the color drained from her face. She had loved Rafael so much, tried so hard to fit into his circle. And yet, after all those years, none of them had ever shown her that kind of warmth. None of them had ever treated her as one of their own.

She used to think their rough, careless treatment of her was just part of their personalities. But now, hearing the affection in their voices for Tessa, she realized they were only mirroring Rafael. To them, she wasn’t worth the effort.

Rafael didn’t even try to hide his favoritism. He lifted Tessa up despite her past betrayal. Everyone knew she’d walked away from him four years ago, and still they worshipped her.

“Apologize to Tessa, Alora!” Rafael’s words sliced through her thoughts and dragged her back to reality.

Alora held her ground. “I never sent anyone after Tessa! I—” she tried to explain, but Rafael cut her off. “Those thugs said you sent them. Tessa would never lie!”

Alora almost laughed at how absurd it was. So Tessa was the gold standard of truth, and she was the liar? After four years together, she’d hoped Rafael would at least know her character, even if his heart belonged to Tessa. But with one sentence, he’d convicted her without a second thought.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, and I won’t apologize to Tessa!” Alora said firmly. She hated the misunderstanding, but more than that, her heart was turning cold with grief. “If an accusation is proof, what if I said Tessa was a murderer—should she be thrown in jail without evidence? I won’t admit to something I didn’t do. You might as well call the police. Even they need evidence to convict, and Tessa’s word isn’t enough!”

“Rafael, I didn’t make anything up…” Tessa’s eyes reddened, her icy demeanor giving way to a fragile, vulnerable facade, expertly crafted to pull at everyone’s heartstrings.

Rafael’s patience snapped. He waved the locket Alora was desperate for, using it like a leash. “Alora, apologize to Tessa! Or forget about ever getting this locket back!”

Alora didn’t answer right away. Her eyes locked on the locket glinting in Rafael’s hand. Her parents had made it with love—a one-of-a-kind heirloom with intricate gold filigree cradling a rare sapphire.

The sight of it dragged her back to that terrible night four years ago. In the middle of a wild blizzard, she had shielded Rafael from his scheming half brother. She’d taken two stab wounds for him, holding on until the police arrived.

In the chaos, her locket had been stolen. She had lost it saving Rafael. Even if he didn’t love her the way she loved him, even if his heart belonged to Tessa, once he recovered it, he should have given it back—not used it as a weapon against her.

“Alora, stop this,” Tessa cut in, pretending to be generous, looking down at Alora like she was beneath her. “I won’t press charges over what happened. Let’s just have her finish the drinks on the table as a peace offering, and we can forget about it.”

Rafael hesitated. He knew Alora couldn’t drink alcohol because of her medical history. But he couldn’t bring himself to refuse Tessa, not when she was sick. So he nodded, his expression cold and indifferent.

Alora had told herself it wasn’t worth grieving over a man who didn’t love her. But when he nodded, she couldn’t stop the tears from burning her eyes. He knew she couldn’t drink alcohol.

Back when Rafael was still struggling to build his career, she had been the one to sit through those brutal business dinners for him, drinking on his behalf. One time, she’d nearly died from alcohol poisoning. The doctor had warned her sternly never to drink again.

Back then, he’d held her in his arms, guilt written all over his face, his eyes red with remorse. He promised he’d get strong enough to protect her, to cherish her, to never let her suffer again.

But feelings change fast and without warning. For Tessa, Alora had been made to endure one humiliation after another.

“I’ll drink,” Alora said quietly. She didn’t bother explaining. There was no point justifying herself to someone who’d already decided not to believe her. She just wanted her locket back so she could leave this painful scene behind.

She glanced at the rows of bottles lined up on the table, and her lips curled in self-mockery. “So if I drink all of these, you’ll give me back my locket?”

Rafael’s eyes darkened. He could feel a storm coming. Somehow, the look on Alora’s face was more unbearable than anything. It felt like she was slipping further and further away, but he was sure she’d never really leave.

After all, Tessa’s health was fragile. Even if Alora only wanted her locket back and didn’t mean to hurt Tessa, the fright Tessa had suffered shouldn’t ruin her last days. Resolute, Rafael ordered, “Drink!”

Alora let out a breath, relieved. His demand meant that once she drank enough to satisfy him, it would be over. The table was loaded with scotch. She blinked, hesitating.

But for the locket, she steeled herself and tipped the first bottle down her throat. It burned like liquid fire, each gulp scorching her heart.

To think loving the wrong person could hurt this much—like being flayed alive and having her bones ground to dust. She had to stop loving Rafael. She had to move on.

“Enough!” Rafael snapped when Alora, face flushed and body swaying, reached for another bottle. He couldn’t watch anymore. He snatched it from her hand and smashed it against the floor. “Take your locket and leave!”

“Tessa…” Rafael’s interruption was momentarily forgotten as Tessa—who hated being second to anyone, especially Alora, the woman who had ‘taken’ Rafael while she was married abroad—couldn’t stand it.

That locket meant everything to Alora. There was no way Tessa was going to let it go. Seeing Rafael about to hand it over, she snatched it and clung to him, putting on a show of distress. “Rafael, my stomach hurts… so much… Am I dying?”

She coughed painfully, a small amount of blood spilling from her lips.

“Tessa!” Alarm shot through Rafael at the sight of her blood. The locket was completely forgotten as he scooped her up and rushed out of the room, leaving Alora alone in the dim, empty space.

After Rafael Holmes swept out with Tessa Guzman cradled in his arms, his friends trailed him to the hospital, all eager to hover and fuss over her. Before long, the lavish suite stood empty—everyone gone except Alora Moore and Patrick Dunn.

Patrick Dunn was the sole heir to the Dunn family, one of Washington, D.C.'s most powerful families. He and Rafael were like brothers, practically inseparable growing up. They'd lost touch for a few years while Patrick was abroad, but when he returned six months ago, he heard what Rafael had been through.

Rafael's other friends had written Alora off simply because they figured Rafael didn't care about her. Patrick's contempt ran deeper. It came from his fierce protectiveness of Tessa—a woman he loved like a sister.

When he was ten, on a volunteer trip with his father to a remote European village, Patrick survived a devastating earthquake and ended up trapped beneath the rubble beside Tessa. His injuries were so bad he couldn't even cry out. If not for her constant urging and comfort, he might never have made it until rescue came.

Tessa was sharp, radiant, regal—a proud, cold beauty. Next to her, Alora seemed to fade, striking face or not.

“Alora, how dare you send thugs after my Tessa? You deserve exactly what's coming to you!” Patrick's accusation sliced through the air while Alora stared, dazed, toward the door Rafael had disappeared through.

For a moment, she went still. Tessa? The name hit somewhere deep. It had been her childhood nickname, too. Only someone from her past—someone who'd been trapped with her in the rubble sixteen years ago—would ever call her that. But that boy hadn't been able to speak, and she'd never learned his name. The keepsake he'd given her had been stolen years ago, cutting the last thread between them.

Patrick's disgust deepened as he took in her bloodied face. To him, Rafael's involvement with her proved nothing but bad judgment—or desperation. His loathing boiled over. He snatched a glass of wine and dumped it over her head without a flicker of hesitation. “If you dare trouble Tessa again, I'll make you regret the day you were born!”

“I never harmed Tessa!” Alora shot back, her voice steady despite the throbbing wound on her forehead. The liquor burned her skin, and she trembled like a leaf in a storm. Still, that stubborn fire inside her hauled her to her feet. She summoned every ounce of strength and slapped Patrick across the face. “I said it before, and I'll say it again: one side of the story doesn't make me guilty! Call the police if you want—even they need proof, and Tessa's word isn't proof!”

“And you had no right to throw a drink in my face!”

Patrick froze for a full half minute. When his expression returned, he was seething. He was the epitome of privilege, always surrounded by sycophants and flatterers. The idea that someone would strike him—especially a woman he held in contempt—was unthinkable. If he weren't above hitting women, he would have enjoyed breaking her spirit.

His eyes burned into hers. Alora could feel the danger rolling off him, but she didn't regret it. She watched him warily, refusing to retreat an inch. “You started this,” she said. “I only hit back after you provoked me.”

Her boldness should have enraged him further, but somehow it amused him even through his fury. Rafael's taste in women got more questionable by the minute. Jaw tight, Patrick picked up another drink.

She was clearly terrified he might get physical, yet her stubborn pride kept her standing tall, unwilling to back down. Blood still trickled from her wound, streaking her pale face red, making her look even more pitiful. But her eyes blazed with defiance, cutting through the gloom around her. That spark stopped his hand. The drink never reached her.

Still, he couldn't let her off the hook for upsetting Tessa. He flung the glass to the floor. Shards skittered around her feet. “Stay out of Rafael's business,” he warned, his voice cold as ice. “Marrying him is Tessa's dying wish. If you get in the way of their relationship again, you'll regret it.”

Then he yanked the door open and stormed out, letting it slam behind him.

“Crazy,” Alora muttered. Patrick was unhinged. Four years ago, Tessa had abandoned Rafael when he was at his lowest—crippled and broke. Alora had only taken him in after their breakup. How could she have interfered in their relationship?

But none of that mattered anymore. She'd ended things with Rafael. These people were no longer part of her life. All she wanted now was to get back her parents' keepsake.

The alcohol and her injury finally caught up with her. Dizzy and unable to drive herself to the hospital, Alora waited until she'd regained enough strength, then hailed a ride to get her wound treated.

The hospital was unusually packed. By the time she was seen, it was late into the night. The doctor gave her two ointments and told her to apply them regularly to prevent scarring.

When she walked out, snow had started falling, blanketing the city in white. Through the swirling flakes, she spotted Rafael carrying Tessa on his back—a scene ripped straight from a romantic movie.

The sight stabbed at Alora's heart. She wanted to turn away, but Tessa's playful voice stopped her. “Rafael, the doctor said I'm healing well. You don't have to carry me.”

“Put me down, please! I can walk by myself!” Tessa insisted.

“Stop fussing,” Rafael said, his voice warm with exasperation. “It's freezing out here. Let me get you home.”

Tessa tightened her arms around his neck and gave a cheeky command. “If you're going to carry me, then you can only ever carry me. If you carry another girl, I'll be really upset!”

“Oh, look! There's a pastry shop across the street! Rafael, I'm suddenly craving strawberry cake. Would you buy me one?”

Alora glanced across the street at the bakery, famous for its irresistible cakes and open around the clock. Despite the snow, the line of customers stretched out the door.

Not long ago, Alora had come across a video of that popular pastry shop and mentioned wanting to try their strawberry cake. When she saw the long line, Rafael had scoffed and called waiting for cake a waste of time.

But tonight, as the line stretched even longer, he gently settled Tessa into his car and soothed her. “I'll wait in line for it. Cover yourself with the blanket and wait in the car.”

The blanket in his car was one Alora had bought.

“Rafael...” Tessa stopped him. She lifted a leg clad in bright red high heels, her tone teasing as she hooked her leg around him and pulled him down into the backseat with her. Their breath mingled in the close, heated air.

Alora braced herself for what would inevitably come next. Instead, Rafael's eyes cut sharply in her direction, piercing straight through the darkness.

Alora thought Rafael had spotted her. But his gaze slid right past her, and he carefully tucked the blanket around Tessa, completely unaware she was there.

A bitter, self-mocking smile curved Alora's lips as the truth hit her: the difference between being loved and being ignored was glaring. That kind of clarity made her unwavering devotion feel like one colossal joke. She swore she'd never be that foolish again.

Alora didn't glance back at Rafael—who was gently letting go of Tessa to join the line across the street. She just turned and walked the other way.

Leaving Rafael behind was the start of her pursuit of a dream career in voice acting.

She'd always adored the animated series Rebirth—especially the character, the Deep Sea Siren. When auditions for the role were announced, Alora sent in a recording as instructed. Soon after, she was invited to a studio audition the next day.

From now on, she wanted to shine in the field she loved. She had no desire to look back—or to reclaim any lost love.

The next morning, Alora arrived at the studio for her audition. The Deep Sea Siren was such a coveted role that nearly fifty voice actors showed up to compete. They drew lots to decide the order, and Alora pulled the last spot. That meant waiting over three hours.

Alora was nervous. The panel was led by the famous director Charles Quinn, a man known for his impossible standards and brutal critiques. The last person to leave the room in tears was a voice actor Alora actually respected. If someone that talented didn't make the cut, what chance did she have?

Even so, becoming an outstanding voice actor was her dream. She wasn't about to back down.

The moment she received the script for the Deep Sea Siren, she immersed herself in the character, shedding the last of her anxiety. She became the captive siren who refused to bow to fate—the one who challenged the heavens themselves.

“Unlike you, brother, I won't hide in the depths like a coward!”

By that morning, Charles had auditioned over forty voice actors—some of the most respected names in the industry, with impeccable voices and delivery. And yet, something was still missing.

After a morning of fruitless auditions, he was exhausted and numb. There was no point in dragging it out. It would only mean more disappointment and another wasted day.

Just as he was about to dismiss Alora without giving her a real shot, her voice cut through the fog in his head.

At first, he was slouched in his chair, eyes closed, totally checked out. But Alora's voice made him sit up. When he recognized her as Rafael's girlfriend, he was thrown.

The rumor mill had always painted Alora as Rafael's arm candy—pretty, sure, but no real talent. Who would've guessed she had skills like this?

Before he could recover from the shock, Alora's voice pulled him in again.

“What is destiny?” she challenged. “Is keeping my merfolk tribe imprisoned in the abyss destiny? If destiny is unjust, then I'll defy it. I'll overturn the heavens and rewrite the rules of this world!”

Alora had one of those faces—innocent and charming, like a flower blooming under moonlight. At past parties, Charles had only ever seen her sitting quietly beside Rafael, looking like a well-behaved girl. Or maybe just Rafael's shadow.

He never imagined that when she was absorbed in a voice role, she could unleash this kind of explosive power. Her voice captured all the arrogance and nobility of a mermaid princess, with a lively, feminine allure that was entirely her own.

Charles closed his eyes, entranced. It was as if the proud, coldly elegant Deep Sea Siren had appeared before him—tail swaying, head held high.

She was exactly the Deep Sea Siren he'd been searching for.

“Alora.” Charles's voice finally broke the silence.

Alora's palms were slick with nerves.

“You did an amazing job. Come back after two o’clock to sign the contract. I look forward to working with you,” Charles said.

Alora stared at him, stunned. Then, like dawn breaking across her face, her eyes lit up with brilliant light.

She pulled herself together fast. “Thank you, Mr. Quinn. I'll cherish this opportunity and give it everything I've got!”

“Good.”

Charles's assistant looked just as shocked, eyes wide. Charles was known for being brutally critical and almost never praised anyone. But Alora's talent? It deserved every word.

The studio was a long way from the luxury hotel where she was staying, so Alora decided not to go back. Instead, she planned to grab a bite at a nearby food court and come back early to sign the contract.

Her heart overflowed with joy and excitement at finally being acknowledged. She had no idea that Tessa Guzman was also dead set on snagging the role of the Deep Sea Siren.

Tessa had been a year ahead of Alora in college. Before going overseas, she'd already made a name for herself in voice acting. Confident in her skills—and as Rafael's cherished love—she thought competing with newcomers for a role was beneath her.

She and Charles had a mutual friend, so she knew his standards were impossibly high. She was sure none of the actors auditioning today would meet them.

She planned to call Charles once auditions ended and offer to step in. That way, she'd secure the role and make it look like she was doing Charles a favor.

Just as she was about to dial, a text came in from her friend: Alora had been chosen as the voice of the Deep Sea Siren.

The news sent a surge of rage through Tessa. She nearly shattered her phone in fury.

With the character's massive popularity, voicing the Deep Sea Siren promised acclaim and a whole new wave of fans. How dare that little upstart Alora think she was worthy of a role like that?

“Rafael...” Tessa murmured.

Tessa was in a hospital room with Rafael at her side. After finishing his call and returning to her, she wrapped her arms around his, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips curved into a pout.

“I heard Charles is casting for the Deep Sea Siren. You know how much I love that character.”

“I really want to voice her,” Tessa pleaded softly. “I don't have much time left. I don't want to leave this world with regrets. Rafael, can I voice the Deep Sea Siren?”