I sat frozen in the corner of the auction hall while he stood at the front with Polly. Their fingers brushed together before he finally laced his hand with hers. They looked ready to leave, like I wasn’t even there.

Polly’s sharp eyes found me anyway. Her smile was sweet, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Lucian, that old watch is such an eyesore. Why don’t you throw it out? That way no one will keep leaving their little gifts lying around. Isn’t that right, sister?”

My teeth sank into my lip so hard I tasted blood.

Lucian’s gaze slid toward me for the briefest second. His eyes touched mine, red and wet, and he looked like he’d been caught staring at fire. He dropped his gaze instantly.

Then his mouth curved, faint, cold. “Let’s go,” he said to Polly.

She smirked at me like she’d won and walked off with him, their shoulders brushing as they disappeared into the crowd.

When the auction finally ended, I stumbled to the back office to settle my earnings, but the clerk shook her head. “Sorry, Ms. Velasquez. Your account’s been frozen.”

That was it. The last thread I was holding onto snapped.

I walked outside in a haze, and the chill night air slapped my face. A black Maybach pulled up in front of me, silent as a shadow.

The window rolled down. Viktor sat inside.

“Miss Velasquez. Mr. Roberts asked me to remind you… the wedding is almost here. Best not to entertain thoughts that don’t belong to you. Stay home. Be a good bride.”

Then the car slipped away, leaving me alone in the wind.

That night, I dreamed.

I dreamed of another life, one where Lucian clasped a necklace around my neck and whispered my name with a smile. Aurelia. His Aurelia.

But the dream twisted. In this life, Lucian was holding Polly, her belly round with his child. He turned to me, and his eyes hard with contempt. “A fickle woman like you thinks she deserves me?”

I jolted awake, gasping and my body soaked in sweat. Staring at the canopy above my bed, I felt something hollow inside me. Maybe… maybe it was time to let go.

After that, I stayed home. I didn’t step outside for days.

***

A week before the wedding, a friend sent me tickets to a polo match. “Go have fun before you’re tied down,” she’d teased. I didn’t want to refuse her kindness, so I went.

The last thing I expected was to see Lucian and Polly there. Again.

They rode into the field side by side, their matching white breeches and navy jackets gleaming in the sun. Both astride tall, elegant horses, they looked like they belonged in some glossy fairytale painting—him commanding and refined, her glowing at his side.

My chest ached. Lucian never cared for polo. He was only here for her.

I spotted my friend in the stands and started toward her, but a sharp cry split through the cheer of the crowd.

“Oh my god! Polly’s horse is bolting!”

I whipped around. Her stallion tore across the grass in a frenzy, hooves pounding the earth, foam flying from its mouth. Polly clung to the reins, terror etched across her face.

And then her eyes locked onto mine.

In that breathless instant, she yanked the reins. The wild animal charged straight toward me.

The thunder of hooves filled my ears. Too fast. Too close. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

And then I saw him.

Lucian.

He launched into motion, spurring his own horse forward. He had a choice. One path cut toward me. The other toward her.

Time slowed. The crowd blurred.

I watched him lean low and his arms hooking around Polly as he swept her clean off the saddle. Together they tumbled safely into the grass, his body shielding hers.

And I… I stood frozen, as the stallion barreled into me.

The impact knocked me sprawling. A hoof slammed down onto my hip, another onto my thigh. Bones cracked, splintered. The pain was blinding, sharp enough to rip the air from my lungs.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Lucian clutching Polly to his chest… not even glancing my way.

***

When I finally surfaced from the void, the first face I saw was Fatima with Polly right beside her.

“Oh thank God, you’re awake,” Fatima whispered, “You’ve been unconscious for two days. We thought we might lose you.”

I blinked, until the sight of my lower body sharpened. My hips and legs were bound and braced, suspended in a cruel contraption above the bed.

I tried to move. Nothing. No sensation. Panic crashed over me like icy water. My hands trembled as I clutched Polly’s wrist. “What… what happened to me?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but they were practiced, theatrical. She shook her head, choked on sobs, and turned away.

“Polly! Tell me what’s wrong with me!”

Her crying only grew louder.

It was my stepmother who finally spoke, “The doctors said… your hips and legs were shattered. There’s severe nerve damage and they aren’t sure if you’ll ever walk again.”

My ears rang and for a moment I couldn’t hear a thing.

“This… this can’t be real…”

And then, like lightning, the memory of that afternoon came back. My eyes burned hot as I grabbed Polly’s wrist and screamed at her, “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?! You did it!”

Her eyes flickered, amused, satisfied, but she stayed quiet. I saw how her smile twisted.

“I saw you. I saw your hands jerk the reins. You steered that horse right at me! You wanted this to happen!”

“Aurelia… I know you’re upset about your legs, but how could you accuse me of something so awful? I would never. We’re sisters.”

I bitterly laughed. This was always her game. Do the worst thing and then cry as if she were the victim. It had been the same in the past, the same in the present.

“It’s you!” I shouted. “It’s always you pretending, always—”

“ENOUGH.”

I froze. My eyes shifted toward the door, and there he was. Lucian. He stood in the doorway holding a bouquet of white lilies, his expression impossible to read.

“What happened was just an accident, Aurelia. Stop putting blame on Polly.”

Accident?

All at once, my anger drained. What was left inside me was just… hollow.

“Get out,” I whispered.

“Sister—”

“All of you, get out!” I grabbed the glass figurine from beside my bed and hurled it. It shattered across the floor.

The room fell into silence. No one argued. They exchanged glances, and then slowly filed out.

Lucian was the last. He set the flowers down on my table, his hand lingering there for a moment. His throat moved like he wanted to speak, but he didn’t. He just left, closing the door quietly behind him.

I stared at the bouquet. Then I grabbed it, flung it against the wall, and watched the petals scatter across the floor like broken glass.

…

Because of my injury, the wedding with Viktor was postponed. The Velasquez family politely suggested ending the engagement, but Viktor shocked everyone by announcing, “Even if Aurelia never walks again, I’ll still marry her.”

In New York high society, people called me lucky. They said I was blessed to have the loyalty of a man like him, even in my broken state.

But they didn’t know the truth.

Behind closed doors, Viktor was not a savior. He was a wolf. His voice, low and sharp, stayed etched in my head. “Since you’re a cripple now, you’d better learn to behave. Once you step into my family, you’ll sit there like a pretty little ornament. You don’t move. You don’t leave unless I tell you.”

I gave him nothing but a cold glance. No words. No reaction.

He smirked, bored. “Pathetic.” And just like that, he walked away.

Lucian came by once more after that, but I wouldn’t see him. He stood outside my door for a long time, like he was caught between leaving and breaking it down. Eventually, he left.

Later, someone handed me his letter of apology, along with a check. I tore it in half without reading and tossed it in the trash.

Lucian was a storm I could not afford to let touch me again.

And yet, his name still found me, drifting in from whispers, news, conversations I wasn’t meant to hear. No matter how much I shut him out, he was always there, like the shadow of a man who refused to leave my world.

I heard whispers around the house that Dad was on cloud nine. His company had just gone public in Singapore and he was so thrilled he moved up the wedding with Polly to this month.

And then there was Lucian. Word was, he was always dropping by to see her. He rode with her, cooked for her, she made him drinks—the two of them looked like some picture-perfect couple while I sat broken in a chair.

That afternoon he came again. I was by the terrace when voices from the study drifted out.

“Polly, you’ve been riding since you were a child. That mare is solid, well-trained. How did she suddenly bolt?” Lucian’s tone was steady, deep, impossible to ignore.

“You think I sabotaged it?”

“I just want answers.”

The room went quiet.

“Fine, I did it. I couldn’t stand the way she kept looking at you like a lost puppy. She’s Viktor’s bride, not yours. Why pretend otherwise? She got what she deserved.”

My fingers clenched on the wheels of my chair. The autumn wind cut through me, colder than the words. Lucian was a man who never tolerated mistakes. I thought, just maybe, he’d tear into her the way he turned his back on me. But silence stretched, heavy and endless.

Polly must’ve realized she went too far. Her voice softened. “Lucian, I lost my head. Jealousy… I let it control me. I’ll fix this, I’ll get Aurelia the best doctors for her legs. I swear.”

After a long pause, he finally spoke. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Four words. Nothing more. And still, they crushed me.

Polly rushed to cover her slip. Something about fetching fresh coffee beans, eager to escape. Lucian let out a faint sigh and stepped out of the study.

That’s when his eyes met mine. Cold. Watching. Waiting.

He froze. “You… heard all that?”

I stayed quiet. Just stared at him, like he was no longer someone I knew.

Something flickered in his gaze. Guilt, maybe. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the watch I gave him before. He held it out. “I’m getting married. This belongs with you, not me.”

I stared at the watch until the silence grew unbearable.

Finally, I lifted my arm and took it. “From now on, Lucian, you and I are nothing.”

I threw the watch down, hard. It hit the floor with a crack that echoed louder than either of us expected.

CRACK.

Lucian stood there frozen. After what felt like forever, his voice came out low. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t answer. I turned the chair around and wheeled myself back to my room.

Afternoon slipped into evening. The sun dipped below the skyline, the lamps clicked on, and the warm yellow light spilled across the walls. I sat there, quiet, staring at nothing. The truth had already settled inside me. Lucian and I were over. My legs were gone. My future was locked in place.

Viktor.

There was no escaping it. Marrying him wasn’t a choice anymore… it was the only path left. And if it meant I would eventually be crushed under him, then maybe a grand, fiery end was better than another slow death.

I lifted my head. My reflection in the darkened window looked steadier than I felt.

**

The days blurred. Soon it was Lucian and Polly’s wedding. The Velasquez villa glittered with lights, crowded with laughter and champagne. From my second-floor room, it might as well have been another world. The voices of the maids floated up, careless, too loud.

“Poor Miss Aurelia… marrying into the Roberts family with those damaged hips and legs…”

“Mr. Roberts doesn’t mind now, but later? Who knows.”

“At least Miss Polly is lucky. Mr. Sullivan designed her ring himself, swore in front of everyone he’d never let her down. What a man.”

“Yeah, handsome, rich, devoted. She won the jackpot.”

I sat straighter in my chair. Across from me, on the white wall, I’d written a letter in lipstick—words big and red, like fresh blood. My confession. My accusation. My end.

I picked up the lighter. My hand didn’t even shake as I sparked the flame and touched it to the silk curtain. Fire bloomed fast, orange and alive. The crackle filled the room, brighter, louder, and hotter. My eyes reflected the flames, and one tear slid down, vanishing into the smoke.

The fire ate the bed, the walls, the air itself. It came for me next.

Outside, the wedding procession was waiting. Lucian stood by the long black limo, sharp in a tailored suit. Polly’s veil trailed as bridesmaids circled her, fussing and laughing.

He looked at her, but his mind was elsewhere. His eyes dimmed for a moment, like he’d remembered me. The way I used to look at him. The way I’d never look at him again.

The emcee barked his name, snapping him out of it. He lifted Polly in his arms, carried her to the car.

Still, he told himself the same lie: that giving me up was the best thing for me. That Viktor’s world was safer. That I deserved a future, even if it wasn’t with him.

The line of cars slowed. Shouts broke out from the sidewalk.

“Fire! Fire at the Velasquez house!”

Lucian’s head whipped around. Black smoke rose in the distance, flames licking at the sky. His chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe.

The voices of strangers cut through the heat of the day.

“They say it’s the young lady’s room!”

“She can’t walk, right? How would she escape?”

“Poor thing. Burned alive… nothing left but ashes.”

I smiled through my tears. But just as the smoke thickened and the fire reached for me, a pair of strong arms grabbed my chair and yanked me back.

“Aurelia!”

It was Mercedes. My nanny. My second mother. Today was her last day of work but why was she here? She's the only one who ever truly saw me. Her apron was half-burned from the flames, her hair falling loose, but her eyes—her eyes were steady, fierce.

“Not today, child. Not like this.”

Behind her, her son Mateo and daughter Clara rushed in, coughing against the smoke. Mateo lifted the curtain aside while Clara pushed from behind. Together they wheeled me fast, down the servants’ stairs, through the back door.

The house blazed behind us, swallowing everything. No one noticed us slipping out the back gate. No one cared.

Mercedes didn’t stop until we reached the old truck parked by the alley. Mateo hoisted me in, his hands gentle even when the pain made me bite my lip. Clara climbed beside me, wrapping a shawl around my shoulders.

“Hold on,” Mercedes said. And she drove. Away from the fire. Away from the villa. Away from everything I thought was home.

We didn’t stop until the train station. The last evening train sat there, huffing steam, waiting for its passengers. Mateo and Clara lifted me down, carried me like I was something fragile but worth saving.

The platform was quiet. No crowds, no lights, just the whistle blowing and the night air heavy with smoke.

Mercedes cupped my face, her rough, kind hands trembling. “You’re my daughter too, Aurelia. Always have been. Forget them. Forget that house. This is your chance.”

I nodded, throat burning, eyes wet. I had no words left, only the weight of her love pressing into me like a shield.

They settled me by the window of the train. The whistle blew again, long and low. As the wheels began to turn, I pressed my forehead to the glass.

“Goodbye, Lucian. Goodbye, Viktor,” I whispered,

“I will no longer choose love.”

The train pulled forward, carrying me into the dark, into the unknown.

For the first time in forever, I felt free.