“Do you still care about me?”

Hot tears spilled freely, splashing onto the phone as I pressed it tightly against my ear. My voice fractured under the weight of everything I was holding back. “If you do… please. I’m begging you. Help me disappear. Help me fake my death.”

Nothing answered me at first.

The silence stretched unbearably long, sharp enough to cut. Then a harsh laugh broke through, bitter and unforgiving.

“Now?” my brother snapped. “You’re asking for my help now? After all this time? After you turned your back on us? After you chose him over your own family?” His anger crackled through the line. “You betrayed us. You betrayed Adrian. All for that man. And now you expect me to save you?”

My chest rose and fell erratically. “I know,” I sobbed. “I know I was wrong. I see it now—too late. But please, you have to hear this.” My words poured out in pieces, broken and desperate. “He’s the reason Adrian died. He killed him… just so he could have his heart.” My breath hitched painfully. “And our baby—he took that too. I was blind. I should’ve never loved anyone after Adrian. Never.”

My fingers cramped as I clenched the receiver harder. “Please,” I whispered. “Come get me. I’ll do anything you ask. I swear. Anything.”

The line went quiet again.

Then, at last, I heard him exhale. “So you finally woke up.” His voice was calmer now, but heavy. “Fine. I’ll come for you in five days. Fix everything on your end. After that, you’re done with him—completely. No turning back. Do you understand?”

My legs nearly gave out as relief collided painfully with dread. “Yes,” I breathed. “I understand. Yes.”

The phone slipped from my hand. My body trembled uncontrollably as the room tilted and darkened around me. I couldn’t stay upright anymore. Everything faded—and I passed out.

When I regained consciousness, I was pressed against Dominic’s chest.

His arms steadied me as he gently shook my shoulders. “Seraphina? Why are you out here?” His voice sounded worried, tender. “You’re not well yet. You shouldn’t be walking around. Come on—if you collapse again—”

That voice. The same one that once convinced me I was cherished.

He carried me back to my room and carefully laid me on the bed, his touch soft enough to almost feel sincere.

“Seraphina,” he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from my face. “I’m sorry. Truly. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should’ve been there when you woke up.” His apologies flowed smoothly. “Work overwhelmed me. The company needed my attention. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

The words sounded sweet—but they were hollow.

I turned my face away, burying my tears before they could betray me. Playing ignorant was all I had left. Lowering my eyes, I whispered weakly, “It’s okay, Dominic. I’m sorry too… for causing trouble. For making you worry.”

Inside, my heart screamed. I already knew the truth—his regret wasn’t meant for me. Helena’s name weighed heavier on his conscience than mine ever had. Still, I nodded obediently, pretending I was the same woman he thought he controlled. Because pretending hurt less than breaking apart in front of him.

He fed me warm soup, one careful spoonful at a time, his gaze heavy with practiced remorse.

Once, I would’ve believed him.

Now, I knew every apology was just a performance meant to keep me quiet.

Then the door flew open.

“Sir Dominic!” the butler cried. “Something’s wrong with Miss Helena again. She’s vomiting badly. The doctor says you need to come at once!”

The instant Helena’s name was spoken, Dominic stood up abruptly. In his haste, the bowl tipped from his hand. Scalding soup spilled across my arm.

I screamed as pain ripped through my skin.

He didn’t even turn around.

Didn’t hesitate.

And just like that—he was gone.

I cradled my burned arm, shaking with both agony and fury. Through blurred vision, I treated the wound myself, pressing cold compresses against my skin while silent tears streamed down my face.

That was it.

I was done.

The following morning, I signed my own discharge papers. Weak and sore, I dragged myself out of the hospital and went straight to the cemetery.

Adrian’s grave.

The moment I saw his name, my strength vanished. I collapsed before the stone, my fingers tracing each carved letter. “I’m sorry,” I whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked. “I loved the wrong man. I let myself be deceived. The man who carries your heart is the same one who destroyed you… and me.”

My tears soaked into the soil as though I could somehow bring him back. Exhausted by grief, I drifted into a haze—and felt warmth surround me.

In my dream, Adrian held me. His arms were solid, familiar. He pressed his lips to my hair and whispered softly, You’re not alone.

When I woke, my face was wet with tears. Yet the echo of his embrace lingered, steadying my heart.

I forced myself home, struggling to breathe properly, my chest tight with exhaustion. That was when I saw it.

A massive billboard loomed above the city, lights blazing against the night sky. The headline was impossible to miss:

“Second Chances Taste Sweeter: Dominic Blackwood to Marry Helena Moore.”

The photo mocked me—Dominic smiling brightly, Helena glowing beside him.

I stood frozen, my heart emptied of everything.

So that was why he never married me. Why every promise faded into nothing.

But I didn’t cry.

There were no tears left to give. Love had burned itself out.

Because in five days, I would be dead.

And when I was gone—every single one of them would finally feel the weight of what they’d done.

The fever wrapped around me like iron restraints, scorching me from the inside. My body shook uncontrollably beneath the covers, sweat seeping through the thin sheets, clinging to my skin. But the heat wasn’t what tortured me the most.

It was the dream.

Adrian.

He stood before me, smiling the way he always had—wide, playful, full of life. That familiar grin that made everything feel safe. We were back on the mountain trails, the air crisp, the sky endless. His fingers laced through mine as he pulled me forward, laughing.

“Hurry up, Seraphina,” he teased. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

In the dream, I laughed too—light, unburdened, free in a way I hadn’t felt in years. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, warm and certain. His eyes held promises he never broke.

When we get back down, let’s get married, he had said once, half-joking. But I knew he meant every word.

Then the world shifted.

His footing slipped. The ground gave way. Adrian fell, his hand reaching for mine, his voice torn away by the rushing wind.

I screamed his name, over and over, until my throat burned raw.

“Adrian! Adrian!”

My own cry yanked me out of the dream.

I shot upright, chest heaving, tears pouring down my face.

But it wasn’t Adrian sitting beside me.

It was Dominic.

He sat in the chair near my bed, arms crossed, his expression dark and mocking.

“So that’s how it is,” he sneered. “Even now, you’re still crying for him.” His lips twisted cruelly. “You shout his name like a grieving widow. I’m sitting right here, Seraphina, yet it’s always Adrian.”

My heart lurched painfully. I wiped at my tears, shaking my head. “Dominic, I didn’t—”

He didn’t let me finish. “This is exactly why marriage is off the table.” He rose to his feet, looming over me. “Why would I marry a woman who’s still obsessed with a dead man? Forget it. There’s no point.”

The words struck hard, but he wasn’t done.

“Helena will be staying here from now on,” he added coldly. “She needs care.” He paused, then delivered the blow. “She’s pregnant.”

Everything inside me went numb. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” he replied flatly, his gaze unyielding. “You’ll prepare her meals. She needs to eat properly.”

A hollow laugh escaped my lips, though they trembled violently. “I’m not your servant, Dominic.”

His eyes darkened. “You are to me. You’re useless otherwise.” His voice turned sharp. “If you don’t like it, then leave.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced them back. “So this is it? You’re with her now? You’re marrying her?” My voice cracked. “Then what was I to you, Dominic? What did I ever mean?”

The slap came without warning.

Pain exploded across my cheek as my head snapped to the side.

“You dare ask me that?” he shouted. “When you can’t even let go of Adrian?” His voice thundered. “Don’t think I didn’t know—you went to his grave. You cried there after telling me you loved me. You’re a hypocrite!”

Something inside me shattered completely.

“You used me,” he sneered. “So what if I use you too? That’s all this ever was. Nothing more.”

“I don’t want this,” I whispered, my voice shaking, barely audible.

“I’m not asking,” he snapped. “I’m giving you an order.”

At that moment, the door opened and Helena stepped inside. Her complexion was pale, her voice gentle. “Are you arguing because of me? I’m sorry, Dominic. I didn’t mean to cause trouble—”

He immediately pulled her into his arms. “No, Helena. Don’t apologize.” His gaze flicked toward me. “She’ll cook for you. It’s time she repays everything she’s taken from me.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore.

My cheek throbbed, my body shook, my heart felt like it was bleeding out. I lowered my head and walked into the kitchen.

My hands trembled as I chopped vegetables, my vision swimming with tears. The knife slipped once, nearly slicing my skin, but I kept going. I just wanted it over with.

Helena approached hesitantly. “Seraphina… let me help you.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s fine. You don’t need to.”

She lingered anyway, fidgeting. I turned back to the cutting board, but my grip—already weakened by fever—failed me. The knife slipped again.

This time, it nicked Helena’s finger as she reached for the plate.

She gasped as blood surfaced.

Dominic rushed in instantly, fury blazing in his eyes. Without listening, his hand struck my face again—harder—sending me crashing against the counter.

“You hurt her?” he bellowed. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I didn’t mean to—she reached for—” My voice broke.

Helena whispered weakly, “It’s not her fault, Dominic. Please—”

But his rage drowned her out.

He hit me again. And again.

I lost count. Pain blurred into numbness. I could barely stand.

“Apologize!” he barked.

“No,” I rasped, blood coating my lips. “It wasn’t my fault—”

His expression turned icy.

Then he shoved me with brutal force.

My body flew backward, slamming into the sliding doors that led to the pool.

The water engulfed me instantly.

Cold. Heavy. Suffocating.

I thrashed, gasping, terror clawing through me. I couldn’t swim—not since the cruise. Water meant panic. Water meant death.

I clawed at the surface, choking. “Dominic! Please—help me!”

“Dominic!” Helena cried. “She’s drowning—do something!”

But he didn’t move.

He stood there, gripping Helena’s arm, his voice chillingly calm. “No. Let her drown. She brought this on herself.”

Water flooded my lungs. My body convulsed. Through the blur, I saw Helena clutch his sleeve, shaking her head. “Please, Dominic… don’t let her die.”

She looked concerned. Almost tearful.

But when his attention shifted for just a second, I saw it.

The smile.

Small. Cold. Victorious.

She wanted this.

She wanted me gone.

My strength faded completely as the water dragged me under, pulling me into darkness once more.

The fever hit me like a hammer after the pool. My body shook violently beneath the damp clothes clinging to my skin, chills sinking deep into my bones. Each cough tore at my throat as if shards of glass were lodged inside. My skin burned fiercely, yet I shivered uncontrollably.

And then she appeared.

Helena. Poised by my bedside, a basin and towel in hand, pretending the act of care came from a place of tenderness. Her voice dripped with feigned sweetness. “Shh… calm down, Seraphina. Rest now. You’ll be fine,” she cooed.

I remembered Dominic’s warning clearly, his sharp tone slicing through my memory: “Don’t waste your time on her, Helena.” But she ignored him, playing the part of the compassionate angel while I lay frail and helpless.

I forced my eyes shut, swallowing the tears, pretending her touch was genuine. But the moment Dominic left, her demeanor shifted. The mask fell.

“You’re not his wife,” she hissed, close to my ear, the words cold and cutting. “You were never anything more than a bed warmer. That’s your entire value. Now that I’m here? It’s over for you. Understood?”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was dry, my body shaking.

She pressed a glass of water to my lips. “Drink.”

I tried to refuse, weakly shaking my head, but she forced the liquid down until it mingled with bile in my stomach. Moments later, I bent forward, vomiting violently. Tears streaked my cheeks, burning my eyes.

Helena stepped back, an ugly smirk curling her lips. “Pathetic,” she muttered. “Sick, weak, and useless. Why would Dominic ever care about someone like you when he has me?”

And just like that, she left me trembling, fever blurring the edges of the room.

Later, I heard Dominic’s cheerful voice outside—light, casual, as if the cruelty of the world wasn’t crushing me beneath it. “Come on, Helena. Let’s go enjoy our date.”

They left together.

I drifted into a fevered sleep with the sound of their laughter echoing in my ears, my body heavy with illness, my heart heavier still.

When I awoke, the fever had broken. My body ached, but I could move without collapsing. The room was empty. No Dominic. No Helena. Not even a single maid in sight.

I rang for assistance, and eventually a maid appeared—but she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her lips were pressed tight; her posture stiff. I asked where Dominic was. She only bowed her head and walked away.

Confusion and dread clawed at me. I turned on the television, and the headline hit like lightning.

“Second Chances: Dominic Blackwood to Wed Helena Moore at Sunset Today.”

Images flashed on the screen—Dominic in his tailored suit, Helena radiant in her gown, smiling like the world owed them nothing. The anchor gushed, “A wedding of love reborn… destiny fulfilled…”

My body went rigid.

So that was it. Fine. They could have their perfect sunset wedding. But I wouldn’t leave empty-handed.

I dragged my aching body to his office. Every shelf, every drawer, I searched. My eyes landed on the safe tucked in the corner.

My hands trembled as I typed combination after combination. Nothing. Then I noticed the photo on his desk—Helena, smiling, her arm linked with his. Her birthday. I typed it in. Click. The lock opened.

Inside were stacks of documents, bundles of cash, and a single flash drive. I knew. This was it. I plugged it into his laptop, holding my breath.

Reports, witness statements, confidential police files. Not just an accident. Not just guilt. Proof. Dominic had killed Adrian—and covered it up.

Tears blurred my vision as I gripped the flash drive like it was a lifeline. I called the police from his office phone, voice trembling. “I have evidence,” I whispered. “Adrian Cole’s death… it wasn’t an accident. I’m filing a case.”

After that, I packed in a fury, stuffing my clothes, documents, and small savings into a suitcase. Every movement fueled by rage and sorrow.

As I stepped outside, my brother waited by the car. Arms crossed, eyes sharp, softening only when they met mine.

“You’re ready?” he asked.

I nodded, tears brimming, voice shaking but firm. “Yes.”

He opened the car door. “Then let’s go.”

We drove through the city in silence. Lights streaked past as the sunset painted the horizon. At the airstrip, a private plane awaited. He guided me aboard, steadying my shaking hands.

As the engines roared, the world shrinking beneath us, I pulled out my phone one last time. Dominic’s number still at the top. I took a deep breath, removed the SIM card, and tossed it into the wind.

I was gone. And this time, there would be no return.

---

Dominic’s POV

I adjusted my cufflinks—the ones Helena had chosen. Today was supposed to mark a fresh start, a chance to bury the ghosts of my past.

The door creaked. I turned, expecting a staff member. Instead, two uniformed officers stepped in, faces unreadable.

“Mr. Blackwood,” one said, voice firm. “You are under arrest for the death of Adrian Cole.”

I laughed, though my throat constricted. “What? That’s impossible. Everyone knows it was an accident.”

The officer moved closer, holding a folder. “We have new evidence—a flash drive sent directly to us by Ms. Seraphina.”

Her name hit me like a blow. “Seraphina? Where is she? Bring her here!”

“She’s not present,” the officer replied, expression flat.

I snatched my phone, dialing her number over and over. Rings echoed, unanswered. Then dead silence.

The butler entered quietly, eyes wary. “Sir… she’s not picking up your calls.”

Helena’s voice trembled behind me. “Dominic… what’s happening? Why are they saying this? Why—”

“Shut up!” I barked, chest tightening, mind spinning. Evidence. Betrayal. Seraphina. Nothing added up. She wouldn’t dare. She couldn’t.

Then the butler’s phone buzzed. He answered, face paling. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to me.

“Sir… we just received a traffic incident report. Miss Seraphina… she was hit by a twelve-wheeler truck. She… is dead.”