The master bedroom door was wide open.

Two naked bodies tangled together on the sheets.

They heard my footsteps.

Victor grabbed the bedside lamp and hurled it at me.

"Get out! Who told you to come in here?"

Alice looked up through tear-streaked eyes, her gaze sharp with the bitter fury of a woman reclaiming what she believed was hers.

"You two haven't even registered the marriage yet. Tonight, he's mine." She sniffled, her voice climbing. "You've been treating me like a joke this whole time, watching from your little throne. I think I'm owed some interest, don't you?"

"After all, we've done much more than this before. If you want to learn how to make him happy, I don't mind you watching. I'm sure he already bragged to your whole circle about taking my virginity, right?"

"Either do it or get out! Let me go home!"

A flash of guilt and regret passed through Victor's eyes.

"I'm the bastard here! Don't degrade yourself like this! I'm the one who wronged you. I shouldn't have lied."

Then he turned on me, his gaze vicious, as if everything were my fault.

But pretending to be poor hadn't been my idea. And their first time together? I hadn't known a thing about it.

Once, I would have lost my mind trying to explain myself. I would have seized every chance to clear up every misunderstanding, every shred of hostility he held against me.

But now, I simply picked up the lamp and set it back on the nightstand.

I pulled the door shut behind me, careful and quiet.

"Enjoy yourselves."

Then I turned and walked to the guest room.

One more night. That was all I had left.

I didn't sleep well.

In my dreams, I kept seeing the Victor from when we were young. Back when everything between us had been so good. Back when he'd never once said a harsh word to me.

A sob crawled up my throat, and tears burned the inside of my nose.

My whole body ached, sharp and bone-deep, as if I'd plunged into ice water.

I woke with a gasp, eyes red and stinging.

The first thing I saw was Victor's face, twisted with disgust.

The chill on my skin was unmistakable now. My hair was soaking wet, water dripping from the ends. I looked at the bucket in his hand.

The cold hadn't only been in the dream.

"Marina! How can you be this despicable? I told you I'd register the marriage with you tomorrow. Tonight was just a goodbye between her and me. I initiated everything. I forced her. It was all me. So why did you leak that video of us?"

I stared at him, blank.

"What video?"

His brow furrowed. He let out a thin, mocking scoff.

"Still playing dumb? Who else would be low enough to plant a camera in the bedroom? I should've known. That's why you were so generous, inviting her over yourself. You were planning to ruin her reputation all along!"

"Pathetic. Disgusting. Studying how to seduce me, is that it? Let me tell you something. You could strip naked and lie right in front of me, and I wouldn't spare you a single glance. You're nothing but—"

Before he could finish, his phone rang.

His assistant's voice came through the speaker.

"Mr. Swanson, the video has been taken down. But we just traced the IP. It was sent from the family estate. It wasn't Miss Farley."

The line went dead.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then guilt, barely there before he buried it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Alice came rushing in with a shriek and slapped me across the face.

"Is that what you want? To destroy me? I already gave you the man I love most in this world! I'm just an ordinary girl with nothing. What more do you want from me?"

She was hysterical. Her palms came down like a storm, slap after slap landing on my body, and there was nowhere to hide.

Victor frowned and reached for her arm.

"It wasn't—"

The next second, Alice slapped him too.

"Oh, so now you feel sorry for her? What about me? What about the three years you played me for a fool?"

Those three years. His rawest nerve. The one thing no one was allowed to mention.

His eyes softened with pain. He took her hand in his.

"It's all my fault. Leave it to me. I'll handle it."

He pulled her into his arms. On his way out, he cast one last glance in my direction.

"Good. Let this be a warning. If you ever pull something like this again, it'll be a hundred times worse."

No apology for the misunderstanding.

No remorse for the damage done.

He didn't even acknowledge what she'd said about me, the cruelty she'd hurled in my direction.

Just a cold, flat warning.

I watched his back as he rushed out the door.

The burning sting on my cheek had gone numb.

Sleep was no longer an option.

I changed into clean clothes and was about to start packing when Victor knocked on my door.

His face was blank. Expressionless.

"Go make her some calming herbal tea. She's shaken up."

I paused. So this was it. His version of an olive branch. The most generous gesture he believed himself capable of.

Before, I would have jumped at it like a child handed a scrap of candy. Whatever he asked, I did. If he said one, I'd give him ten.

But now, I just shook my head.

"I can't. I have things to do tomorrow. I need to rest."

I closed the door.

A long silence followed.

Then a violent kick slammed against it.

"Make it or don't. I gave you a chance and you threw it away. Don't come crawling to me later, because there won't be a next time!"

His footsteps faded down the hall.

I smiled bitterly to myself.

"There won't be a next time."

After I turned him down, he took Alice and stormed out, the front door crashing shut behind them.

Half an hour later, the house filled with people. A cleaning lady. A cook. A housekeeper.

I understood the message perfectly.

He was telling me that from now on, I'd never again have the excuse of cooking his meals, brewing his soups, doing his laundry, tidying his home. Every small domestic ritual I'd used to stay close to him, every thread of contact I'd woven through service and devotion, was being cut.

I let out a quiet, helpless laugh. But before I could retreat to the bedroom, the housekeeper stopped me.

"Miss Farley, this property is Mr. Swanson's premarital asset. Since you two aren't married yet, you're not authorized to stay here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

My feet stopped. A dull ache bloomed behind my ribs.

I nodded, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out.

That was Victor. If things didn't go his way, he'd make sure you regretted it.

But it was fine. The woman marrying him wasn't going to be me.

I checked into a hotel for the night.

The next morning, a full hour before we were supposed to register the marriage, I called him.

No surprise. He didn't pick up.

A photo message from Alice popped up on my screen.

Victor was in a hospital room, half-kneeling beside her bed, carefully cleaning a wound on her arm.

Sorry, this shameless man just won't leave no matter how hard I try to shoo him away. Sit tight and wait a little longer, okay?

This wasn't the first time Alice had sent me something like this during the year and a half since she and Victor had supposedly broken things off.

The last time, my father had been rushed to the hospital after a stroke. I'd begged Victor, practically on my knees, to use his influence so the doctors would operate.

The surgical team was prepped and ready to go. Then Alice called, and Victor pulled every last one of them away.

By the time I saw the message and rushed to the hospital room, he had an entire team of specialists huddled around Alice, treating a scratch from a stray cat.

If that had happened any earlier in my life, I probably would have stormed in and torn the place apart.

But now, I just sighed.

I called his mother.

After a pause, Christine dismissed me with a single curt remark about being useless, then came anyway, bringing the Pemberton girl with her.

She called Victor right in front of me. Over and over. More than ten times.

He finally picked up the last one. His voice came through sharp, hostile, dripping with impatience.

"Stop hounding me! What's the rush? One more day, one more hour, what difference does it make? I already said I'd do it. You think I'm going to run?"

"If you're that desperate to get married, grab some random guy off the street."

He hung up.

The pain hit before I could stop it. A sharp, involuntary sting behind my sternum.

When I was twenty, he'd announced to the whole world that I was his future wife. And back then, what he'd said was—

"None of you are allowed to go after her or give her a hard time."

And yet, the person who hurt me over and over again was him.

Twenty minutes later, his assistant arrived with his ID.

The man greeted us with polite detachment.

"Mr. Swanson is unavailable. It's no longer required for both parties to be present in person to register the marriage, so he asks that Mrs. Swanson and Miss Farley find a way to handle it on their own."

No longer required to be present in person, perhaps, but the photo for the certificate still needed to be taken with the actual registrant there.

I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted me to be humiliated in front of everyone.

Too bad he'd miscalculated.

The person marrying him wasn't me.

Christine had been worried he might refuse and had prepared all sorts of schemes to force his hand. She never expected it would be this easy.

The registration went smoothly. His mother kept her promise and gave me the remaining payment.

My job was done. I let out a breath of relief and took a cab to the airport.

On the way, a message from him popped up on my phone.

Now that you have the marriage certificate, stop pulling stunts. And you'd better remember your promise—stay away from Alice!

And don't flatter yourself into thinking you mean anything to me. Beyond keeping up appearances, I won't waste a single emotion on you.

I stared at the messages and let out a tired smile.

I blocked him, deleted his contact, then pulled out my SIM card and tossed it in the trash.

His emotions?

I stopped caring about those a long time ago.

...

Half an hour later, Victor walked through the front door and froze.

His mother was sitting on the living room sofa with a girl he didn't recognize.

His brow furrowed, and the words came out on reflex.

"Mom, Marina doesn't like other people in the house. You know that. When she finds out another woman was here, she'll throw one of her fits again."

Christine smiled and patted the girl's arm.

The girl rose with composure, walked toward him, and held out a marriage certificate.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm your legal wife. The Miss Farley you're referring to is already gone."