“Do you still want to marry me?” The phone pressed hard to my ear as I stared at the cracked ceiling of my room. “If yes, then come get me in a week.”

There was a beat of static, then Martin’s exasperated scoff echoed through the line. “Okay, babe? What’s wrong now? Agreeing to marry me when you’ve sworn to never even look at me? What happened to the love of your life—Troy? Aren’t you engaged to your perfect golden boy?”

My chest pinched. I dug my nails into my palm, grounding myself. “I’m going to be a runaway bride. So if you want me, come get me.”

I hung up before Martin could finish. I could already imagine him tossing his phone across his fancy living room, cursing my name like he used to in high school. The mighty Martin—my sworn enemy since I was sixteen—was the last person I should run to. But right now, I’d rather run into his arms than stay here.

Than stay with them.

Troy and Trevor. My perfect boyfriend and my perfect best friend.

Once upon a time, it was the three of us—always together, always laughing. The kind of best friends people envied. We were kids when we promised each other forever, that nothing and no one would ever break us apart.

And then my cousin Jasmine arrived. I had brought her in like family should, trusting her with the deepest parts of my life. I should’ve seen it coming. The stolen glances between Jasmine and Troy, the lingering touches, the excuses Trevor made when he canceled plans with me. But I loved them—I thought love would make them stay loyal.

What a fool.

It was three months ago when the first dagger sank in. Jasmine sent me a video—Troy, my fiancé, tangled up in bed with her. She sent it with a giggle and a single line: Oops, sorry, wrong sender. You weren’t supposed to see that.

The latest betrayal was the hostage. Three days ago, Jasmine and I were shopping when men with guns stormed in. Screaming, chaos, a barrel pressed against my head. And when they asked Troy and Trevor to choose—only one girl to save—they didn’t even hesitate. They chose Jasmine.

They left me there. I remembered Jasmine’s crocodile tears as she was pulled to safety, leaving me kneeling on the cold marble floor. I fought. I begged. I was hurt, tortured, until strangers in SWAT gear finally dragged me out. And still, Troy and Trevor never visited me in the hospital. Not once.

A loud thrum of bass rattled the walls, snapping me back to the present. The party was in full swing—Jasmine’s birthday. Of course. They remembered her birthday but not mine.

I rolled onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut.

A sudden creak of the door made me jolt. Jasmine stood there in the glow of the hallway light, hair perfect, silk dress shimmering, a glass of red wine perched in her hand like a trophy. She smirked. “Oh. You’re here. Aren’t you supposed to be at the party? Serving drinks?”

I forced my voice to stay calm. “I’m not your maid, Jasmine. Get out. I want to sleep.”

She pouted dramatically. “Really? You want to rest? Or you’re just jealous because Troy and Trevor threw me this party? Come on, Camille. Stop sulking.”

She reached out, grabbed my wrist with those manicured claws. “Let’s go downstairs. You should see how much they love me.”

“I said no.” I yanked my hand back. “Get out.”

Her face hardened for half a second before she twisted it into a mask of fake pain. She let out a gasp, flung her glass of wine to the floor where it shattered—then she dropped down onto her ankle, whimpering like an injured puppy.

“Camille! Why—why would you push me? My ankle—”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Of course. Troy and Trevor, their savior instincts kicking in, only for her.

“Jas? What’s wrong?” Troy demanded, pulling her into his arms. Trevor glared at me like I’d kicked a kitten.

“I—I just wanted her to come to the party and have fun,” Jasmine sniffed, eyes glistening. “But she hates me. She pushed me.”

“She’s lying—”

“Enough!” Troy snapped. “You’re still playing the victim? Is this because of the hostage? You’re mad at us for choosing her. But you’re alive, aren’t you? Be grateful.”

Trevor crossed his arms. “She just wants to celebrate her birthday. But you ruin everything, Camille. You always have.”

Jasmine turned her face into Troy’s chest, smirking where they couldn’t see. “Don’t be harsh on her,” she cooed. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

They didn’t see the venom in her eyes when she peeked at me.

I wanted to scream. To rip her hair out. But what was the point? They’d always believe her.

Troy’s grip tightened on Jasmine’s shoulder. “If you keep this attitude, Camille, you don’t deserve to be my wife.”

Trevor snorted. “You don’t even deserve to be our friend.”

The world tilted. But I stayed still. One more week.

“Go downstairs,” Troy ordered. “Serve drinks. Make yourself useful.”

I could’ve refused. Should’ve. But instead, I nodded numbly, feet moving like I was sleepwalking. In my mind, I was already gone.

I carried trays of champagne through the glittering crowd, eyes blurry with unshed tears. Jasmine’s laugh cut through the music—she was radiant, dancing with my people.

Then something slammed into my back. A hand, one of Jasmine’s friends. A shove. I stumbled. The tray clattered from my hands and I tumbled over the edge of the pool.

Cold swallowed me whole. I thrashed, but I’d never learned how to swim. Water filled my lungs. I could see them on the edge—Troy, Trevor, Jasmine—watching.

“She’s faking it,” Troy said.

“Always desperate for attention,” Trevor added.

And Jasmine? She just tilted her head, smiling.

The last thing I heard was laughter bubbling above the waterline as darkness dragged me under.

One more week, I told myself. Just one more week—

And then, nothing.

When I came to, the sky above me was pale and bruised with dawn. I was lying on the pool’s edge, clothes clinging wet and heavy against my bones. The faint taste of chlorine burned my throat.

For a second, I just lay there—staring at the water that had almost swallowed me whole. The silence of the backyard was deafening. The party was over. The fairy lights still flickered, swinging from the trees like mocking ghosts.

I pushed myself up, my arms trembling from exhaustion. The ground was littered with broken plastic cups, confetti soggy with dew, and half-eaten food rotting on paper plates. All the evidence of a celebration I was never truly part of.

I managed to stand. My body ached with every step. I was almost to the sliding glass doors when I heard his voice.

“Well, look who finally crawled out.”

Troy’s silhouette stood in the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets like he was the king of this mess. His eyes flicked over me, wet hair plastered to my cheeks, skin pruned from hours in the water.

“Clean this up,” he said flatly.

I blinked. “Troy… I—I’m tired. I almost—”

“So what?” His eyes hardened. “You embarrassed us last night. You always do. You want to be useful for once? Start with this. Maybe then you’ll be worth something.”

A gentle hand brushed Troy’s arm. Jasmine, still in her slinky birthday dress, hair perfect, face fresh. She looked at me with a pitying smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s okay, Troy,” she cooed sweetly. “Let’s just ask the cleaner to do it. Camille should rest. She must be so… fragile.”

Trevor’s laugh cracked through the air behind them. “A waste of money when the trash can take itself out. She made the mess—she cleans it.”

They left me there, standing on wobbly feet, the door clicking shut behind them. I stared at the piles of garbage, the filthy pool water rippling behind me. A good dog would obey, right? That’s what I’d always been for them—loyal. Silent. Replaceable.

One more week, I reminded myself. Just one more week.

So I cleaned. I scrubbed sticky soda from the tiles until my fingers cramped. Hauled out trash bags that reeked of cheap vodka and lies. I gagged when I found lipstick-stained glasses tossed by the pool—my cousin’s shade of red.

By morning, my head was pounding and my stomach screamed. I dragged myself to the kitchen, hoping for something—anything.

They were all there. Jasmine perched on the counter, Troy and Trevor at the table, laughing like they hadn’t almost watched me drown hours ago. The smell of bacon and fresh bread made my chest tighten.

I reached for a plate. Jasmine’s eyes snapped to my hand.

“Oh,” she said, her voice bright and cruel. “That’s not for you.”

I froze. “What?”

She giggled. “I said, it’s not for you. Don’t eat it. This is for the dog.”

I watched her slide off the counter and kneel dramatically, setting the plate on the floor for Trevor’s yapping terrier. The dog sniffed it eagerly.

Troy didn’t even look up. “Just cook something for yourself, Camille. Don’t make a scene.”

My hands shook. The smell made my stomach twist painfully. But I didn’t argue. I turned away. In the hallway, I pressed my back against the wall and let the emptiness settle in my chest like a stone.

No tears. Not anymore.

Instead, memories came flooding back, uninvited. Me, Troy, and Trevor in the old treehouse behind my parents’ house—back when I still had parents. I was ten when the car crash took them both. Troy and Trevor’s families took me in, promising to protect me, keep me safe. You’ll never be alone, Camille. We’re family.

Troy had slipped a cheap promise ring on my finger when I was eighteen, swearing he’d marry me, take care of me forever. But Jasmine showed up, and forever slipped away like water through my fingers. I’d been so stupid—I’d invited her in, let her sleep in my room, let her share my food, my secrets, my heart.

I’d watched her carve out my place like it belonged to her.

A buzz from my phone made my chest seize. I fumbled to unlock it. Martin.

Everything’s ready. One more week, sweetheart. No turning back. You’ll be mine.

Okay, I typed back. I’m ready.

When the house went quiet, I dragged out every box I had hidden in my closet. Old photographs, dried flowers, the promise ring Troy had given me, letters Trevor had written me when we were kids, scribbled in messy crayon. I carried it all out into the backyard.

The flame caught with a greedy hiss, and I watched our childhood burn—embers of broken promises dancing into the dawn sky.

I didn’t hear Troy’s footsteps until he was beside me. His face twisted in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing? Did you just burn our things?”

I didn’t flinch. I met his eyes, the way I hadn’t in months. “Those weren’t your things. Those were our memories. Old ghosts. I want to forget them.”

Troy’s face contorted into something ugly. He stepped closer, the smoke swirling between us. “What did you just say?” he hissed. “You want to forget us? Are you insulting me? Insulting Trevor? After everything we’ve done for you—since your parents died—”

I kept my arms at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms. “I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

He laughed. A sharp, humorless bark that made my stomach twist. “We took you in! We made sure you had everything! We run your precious business for you! And this is how you repay us—burning your past like it’s trash?”

I met his eyes, unflinching. “It is trash, Troy. That’s what it’s become.”

His nostrils flared. He lunged forward, fingers digging into my arm so tight I knew it’d bruise. “Say that again. Go on. Say it again, Camille.”

Silence. That was my weapon now. I swallowed every retort and let it sit heavy behind my ribs. I refused to give him my tears. Not this time.

“Why aren’t you saying something?” Troy snarled, shaking me once, twice. The smell of the fire clung to his shirt, the smoke clung to my hair. “Do you want me to call off the engagement? Is that what you want?”

Once, that threat would’ve made my knees buckle. Once, I would have begged him to stay. Once, I’d have folded myself into an apology I didn’t owe, just for a chance to keep him beside me. Once.

But not today.

“Do whatever you want, Troy.” My voice didn’t even crack. “You truly disappoint me.”

I saw the shock flicker across his eyes—just for a split second—before it curdled into rage. His mouth opened, ready to spit something cruel and familiar.

But Jasmine’s scream sliced through the dawn like a blade. “Help! Troy! Trevor! Help me!”

I heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. Trevor’s voice echoed in the hallway, frantic. “Jasmine? What happened?”

Troy released me like I was poison. Without another word, he ran to her—like he always did. My arm throbbed where his fingers had dug in, but I barely felt it. I stood there, listening to the two of them fawn over Jasmine’s fake cries, remembering how many times I’d screamed and no one had come.

She always knew how to play them, I thought bitterly. Jasmine was good at being helpless. Good at being adored. And I had been stupid enough to think she was my family.

I turned on my heel, stepping back into the cold emptiness of the apartment I paid for. I let their voices fade behind me. The moment my door clicked shut, the last bit of restraint I’d been holding in my chest finally loosened.

I crossed the room and picked up my phone with trembling fingers. I found the number—my lawyer’s private line. He answered on the second ring.

“Ms. Navarro? Are you alright?”

“No,” I said flatly, staring at the scorched edges of my memories still clinging to my skin. “But I will be. I want you to put the apartment up for sale. Find a bidder. Cash deal, no questions asked.”

There was a pause. “Ma’am, this is your primary residence—”

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “I want it gone. And there’s more.” I sank onto the edge of the bed, my pulse hammering in my ears. “Draft the paperwork to terminate Troy and Trevor’s contracts from Navarro Trading. Effective immediately.”

Another pause, sharper this time. “You want to fire them both? But they’re your co-managers—”

“Not for long,” I cut him off, a sick sort of relief pooling in my stomach. “I want them out of my business, out of my life. I’ll sign whatever I need to sign today.”

“Understood. I’ll start the process. Are you… certain?”

I looked around my room—once my sanctuary, now just a prison cell with white walls and broken promises. I thought about the day Troy had slipped the ring on my finger, the way Trevor used to laugh and swear he’d always protect me. I thought about my mother’s ring hidden in my dresser—my mother, who always said family is the people who never let you go.

They had let me go a long time ago. I was just the last to see it.

“I’m certain,” I breathed. “No more running in circles. I want my life back.”

“Okay, but the company, who will handle it for you?”

I responded with a smile. “Once I’m married, I’ll transfer the company to Martin’s name. He’s more than capable of running it. Better him than Troy, who only wants it for himself.”

There was nothing left to say after that. I ended the call before the lawyer could try to talk me out of it. I needed to believe I could still save something for myself. If Martin was willing to stand by my side—even if I’d spent half my life hating him—I’d let him.