There was a time when he'd protected me like that too.

Tears fell before I could stop them.

Allan shielded Pauline from every scare the staff threw at them, holding her hand as they made it out of the haunted house together.

Pauline shook his hand off and pouted, her voice syrupy sweet.

"Do you take care of your girlfriend like this too?"

I lowered my eyes and shook my head slowly.

The only time Allan ever protected me was when we were kidnapped as kids. I'd covered his escape and gotten my leg broken for it, then locked in a dark room. After I was rescued, he'd stayed by my bedside day and night, never even changing out of his clothes.

In the seven years we'd been together since, he never took care of me again.

When I got sick, he went out drinking with friends.

When I was in a car accident, he called to yell at me for being brainless.

Even last year, when I had my heart transplant — a surgery with only a ten percent success rate — I was terrified I'd die without seeing him one last time. I begged him to be there with me.

Allan skipped it to throw a birthday party for his ex.

Only after hearing Allan's denial did Pauline let him hold her hand again.

The viewers in the livestream had no interest in watching the two of them being lovey-dovey. Within minutes, more than half of them had left.

A spark lit behind Pauline's eyes. She latched onto Allan's arm, swinging it playfully.

"I heard you and your girlfriend are about to get engaged. Why don't you take me to see the place you two picked out?"

I threw my arms out in front of Allan, blocking his path.

"No! My dad renovated that house with his own hands!"

Every brick, every coat of paint — it was all poured from my father's love for me. He'd pushed himself so hard to build my dream home that he'd wrecked his back, left in so much pain he could barely stand straight.

How dare Allan let someone else trample over my father's labor of love?

I fought to stop him with everything I had, but my body passed through Allan again and again.

He drove Pauline to the apartment.

The viewer count in the livestream doubled.

"Oh my God, this is insane. How is this not basically sneaking his side piece into the love nest?"

"What are you even saying? The fact that he's willing to bring Pauline there proves she's the woman he truly loves."

"Don't you people understand what true love means?"

Pauline's eyes curved into crescents. She tilted her head and pressed a kiss to Allan's cheek.

"See? The one who isn't loved is the real other woman."

"Don't be jealous of me, everyone."

I shook with fury, wishing I could wrench the steering wheel and send this shameless pair straight to hell.

But I couldn't. All I could do was watch, powerless, as Allan unlocked the door to our home.

Pauline squealed, holding the camera up as she rushed into the living room. She ran her fingers along the elegant coffee table, then flopped onto the plush sofa.

"It's so pretty!"

My dad had specially installed a projector on the ceiling. The moment the lights came on, it would cast a starry sky across the walls.

I threw myself at Allan, begging him to make her leave.

"Get out! You're not welcome here!"

A sharp crack pierced my ears. I spun around.

Pauline stuck her tongue out playfully, pointing at the shattered ceramic on the floor.

"Sorry. I bumped into it by accident."

My mind went blank.

I dropped to my knees, fingers trembling as I tried to piece the broken ceramic doll back together.

My mother had made it with me and my dad the day before she died.

She told me the ceramic doll would stay with me forever in her place.

Tears burst from me like a dam breaking. I cradled the fragments and sobbed until no sound came out.

Allan glanced at the mess on the floor, barely sparing it a look, and swept every last piece into the trash.

"No..."

But he couldn't hear me.

Even if he could, he wouldn't have cared.

I sat slumped on the floor, eyes hollow, wishing I could dissolve into nothing right then and there — so I could find my mother and tell her I was sorry.

I didn't protect the one thing she left me…

The next second, a phone rang, sharp and insistent.

Allan glanced at the glowing screen. His spine went rigid.

He motioned for Pauline to keep quiet, then pressed the answer button.

"Mom, what's going on?"

Frances Fox's anxious voice poured through the speaker.

"Allan, where are you and Olivia?"

"Her father just called me. Her health-monitor watch sent out an SOS alert."

I drifted close to the speaker and screamed with every ounce of strength I had left.

"Mrs. Fox, Allan locked me inside the haunted house!"

"Please come get me, please. I'm so scared…"

Allan's gaze drifted toward where I hovered, as though he'd sensed something. His brow furrowed tight.

His fingers clenched around the phone until his knuckles turned white. He forced his voice to stay calm.

"Mom, Olivia's with me. We're on a date."

"Tell Mr. Young not to worry. I'll take care of her."

My heart split open like a raw wound.

I grabbed at Allan's collar, sobbing, my vision blurred with tears as I demanded answers.

"Why are you lying? Tell them the truth!"

"My dad will worry himself sick. I'm all he has left…"

Frances tried to say something more, but Pauline draped her arms around Allan's neck, her breath warm and teasing against his skin.

"You're my boyfriend today. Mention another woman one more time, and I'll get jealous."

Allan hung up without a second's hesitation.

I saw the viewer count in her livestream surging.

Comments flooded in: "This is so wild."

"Pauline is literally a modern-day siren, she's irresistible."

"Pauline, teach a masterclass! I want a new boyfriend every day too!"

Even after hanging up, Allan felt an inexplicable unease gnawing at him.

He gave Pauline a light pat on the hip and pulled up my number.

"Babe, let me just call Olivia to check in real quick."

"She really isn't in good health. I'm worried that—"

The phone barely rang once before Pauline pouted, snatched it out of his hand, and powered it off.

"No calling. You're mine today."

"Besides, doesn't she have hands? If she's feeling sick, she can call an ambulance herself. Why does she need to bother someone else's boyfriend?"

Pauline said it without a shred of shame, then pivoted to dispensing relationship advice to her livestream audience.

"Listen up, ladies. A girl who's sick but calls someone else's boyfriend instead of a doctor? That's textbook manipulation. If you ever run into a situation like that, just have your man turn off his phone and ice her out."

I floated in the air above them, a cold, contemptuous smile on my lips.

Last week, I'd had a sudden flare-up of gastritis. Allan had rushed me toward the hospital in a panic.

Halfway there, Pauline texted him.

"Allan, I accidentally cut my finger. It hurts so bad…"

A photo followed right after.

Pauline's fingers were pale and slender, glistening with droplets of water that left plenty to the imagination. Not a single scratch in sight.

Allan slammed the brakes and left me on the side of the road.

His brow creased with worry as he swung the car around.

"Pauline cut her hand. I need to go buy her some band-aids first."

"Just get yourself to the hospital. You've been dealing with this stuff for years—you're used to it by now. But Pauline's different. She's out here all on her own, and she needs me right now."

At three in the morning, I couldn't get a single ride.

I ended up collapsing on the curb. I had no idea how long I lay there before a stranger found me and took me to the hospital.

What had been a mild case of gastritis had turned into a full-blown stomach perforation.

When I woke up, I cried and demanded to know if he'd stopped loving me.

He knelt at my bedside and swore he would never abandon me again.

In his heart, I was always an afterthought.

But now, I truly didn't care anymore.

My only worry was Dad. When he learned I was dead, the grief and guilt would destroy him.

After that little interruption, the livestream chat urged Pauline to show them the master bedroom.

Allan hesitated, but he could never resist when she pouted and wheedled.

He pushed open the door, and a magnificent embroidered wedding gown came into view.

The chat exploded.

"Oh my God, is that hand-stitched embroidery?"

"The phoenix on that gown looks alive. It's like something a noblewoman would've worn to her wedding in the old days."

Greed flickered in Pauline's eyes.

She shoved the camera close, her fingers tracing the dense, delicate stitching.

I screamed.

"Don't touch it with your filthy hands!"

That gown had been passed down through generations of my family. My grandmother gave it to my mother, and my mother gave it to me. She told me I'd be the most beautiful bride when I wore it.

I bit through the flesh inside my cheek, but all I could do was tremble.

I was nothing but a soul now. I couldn't touch anything. I couldn't do a single thing.

Pauline ran her hands over the gown like she couldn't get enough of it, then lifted it straight off the hanger.

The chat egged her on.

"Just put it on, Pauline! Do the whole wedding ceremony with your boyfriend!"

"Yes! I bet she'd look absolutely stunning in it!"

Pauline laughed shyly, tossing Allan a coy glance.

"But it's not mine. I can't just wear someone else's things, can I?"

Allan stared at the gown, and Olivia's smiling face flashed through his mind.

Just days ago, she'd told him she wanted him to dress her in this gown with his own hands on their wedding day.

She wanted to carry her family's blessings with her and be his beautiful bride.

Allan's throat bobbed. He caught Pauline's hand.

"You can't wear it. She'd be upset."

Pauline froze. It hadn't crossed her mind that Allan would refuse her.

The chat erupted, full of complaints.

"It's just letting Pauline try it on. What's the big deal?"

"Exactly, she's just wearing it for us to see. Nobody else will ever know."

Pauline's eyes reddened with hurt.

Her tears splashed onto the back of Allan's hand, and she bit down on her lower lip, looking small and wounded.

"Allan, I've never seen such a beautiful wedding gown in my life..."

"You like me, don't you? Don't you want to marry me?"

She pushed him back onto the bed and peeled off her clothes.

Acid surged up from my stomach. I doubled over at the edge of the bed and retched violently.

I'd picked out that bed. I'd washed those sheets with my own hands.

I'd believed that Allan and I would fall asleep in each other's arms on that bed.

But now he kissed Pauline hungrily, pressing her into the mattress beneath him.

The chat flooded with gifts, the viewers goading them on.

"Put on the gown! Put on the gown! Then consummate it!"

"We want the R-rated version! Give the people what they want!"

Allan dressed Pauline in the gown with his own hands. His palms slid along her back, then he gripped the nape of her neck and kissed her deeply.

Tears streamed down my face. I smiled bitterly.

He had betrayed every promise he ever made me. He had destroyed everything I held dear.

Allan Fox, I truly regretted ever loving you.

Allan took Pauline's hand and walked her through the vows. Then they shared a champagne toast.

They completed every step of a wedding ceremony, and as the viewers cheered, Allan swept Pauline into his arms and laid her on the master bed.

Pauline's gaze slid to the nightstand, to the framed photo of me and Allan. Her lips curled in triumph.

The look said it all. She'd won. Any man alive would fall at her feet.

My nails dug deep into my palms. I turned away, forcing myself to block out the breathy, tangled sounds behind me.

Just as they were about to go further, the bedroom door was kicked open.

Frances appeared in the doorway. The moment her eyes landed on the half-naked couple in bed, the color drained from her face.

She swept past me, crossed the room in three quick strides, and slapped Allan so hard his head snapped to the side.

"You ungrateful wretch! Do you have any idea that Olivia is in trouble?!"