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.”

Dominic’s POV

“Sir…” The butler’s voice cracked like glass. His eyes couldn’t meet mine. “We just received a traffic incident report.”

My chest tightened. Something in his tone made my blood run cold.

He swallowed, trembling. “…Miss Seraphina was hit by a 12-wheeler truck. They say… she’s dead.”

For a moment, the world turned silent. My jaw clenched, my breath stuck in my throat. Dead?

Then I laughed. A hollow, broken sound. “A… truck? And you’re saying she’s dead?” My head snapped up, eyes blazing. I shook my head violently, as if I could shake the words away. “No. No, no, no. That woman should have nine lives! You hear me? Nine lives! She cannot be dead. That is impossible!”

The butler’s lips trembled, but he said nothing.

I became hysterical, my fists slamming against the dresser. “If this is her prank again—her pathetic little game to get my attention because I’m marrying Helena—then tell her to quit it!” My chest heaved. “Do you hear me? Quit it! I am not postponing this wedding. Not for her. Never for her!”

Behind me, Helena gasped, her painted lips parting in horror. “What? Dead?” She clutched her chest, feigning panic. “Oh my God, Dominic, is this true? Is this… is this a bad omen? Is she… is she cursing us? On our wedding day?”

I spun to her, my face twisted with denial. “No! Nothing. Let her. She’s not dead. She’s doing what she always does—trying to get my attention.” I let out a harsh laugh. “She’s done this before. She storms out, slams doors, shouts about leaving me forever… then comes back, crying that she has nowhere to go.”

A memory burned through me—Seraphina’s tear-streaked face, standing outside in the rain years ago, suitcase in hand, whispering, “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice had been hoarse from crying, her fingers white from clutching the handle of that cheap, worn-out luggage.

I remembered how she had stormed out of the house that night after we argued about Helena, saying she was tired of always being second place, tired of feeling like a shadow. She swore she would leave me for good. I watched from the window as she dragged the suitcase down the driveway, her thin frame trembling under the downpour.

For hours she didn’t come back. I had half expected her to vanish completely, to disappear into the city and never return. But when midnight fell, the doorbell rang. And there she was—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her cheeks, shivering violently. The suitcase was abandoned on the porch, her knees buckling as she whispered, “I have nowhere else to go.”

She collapsed against me, fists weakly hitting my chest before they clung to me instead. “Don’t abandon me,” she sobbed. “Even if you don’t love me… don’t leave me alone.”

Yes. That was Seraphina. She always came back. She couldn’t leave me. She never could.

Helena, still clutching her veil, pressed closer. Her voice shook, dripping with desperation. “Dominic, are you sure? Should we… maybe postpone the ceremony? What if—”

I grabbed her wrist, forcing her gaze to mine. “No. We go on. This wedding will happen. You are mine, Helena. Nothing—nothing—will stop it.”

She nodded weakly, though her eyes gleamed with a satisfaction she tried to hide.

As she left to finish preparing, I snapped at my men. “Find her. Now. If Seraphina is faking her death, if she thinks she can humiliate me on my wedding day—punish her. Teach her what happens when she mocks me.”

The butler hesitated, voice trembling. “But… sir…”

“No!” I barked. My hands trembled, rage masking fear. “I will not accept it. She is not dead. This wedding will continue.”

And then the police butt in again. “You’ll have to come with us. We have the warrant—”

I spun to my butler, fury burning through me. “Settle it. Pay them. Now. No one—no one—ruins this wedding. Not Seraphina, not the police, not anyone.”

The hall glittered with flowers and chandeliers, a stage built for victory. Guests whispered, smiling, as though nothing had touched us. I stood at the altar, my smile forced, my chest heavy. The priests waited. The music swelled.

And then Helena walked toward me, glowing in white, every inch the perfect bride.

But before her footsteps reached me, one of the butlers stumbled inside, pale, shaking. “Sir… forgive me…” His voice cracked. “…It was really her.”

I froze.

He held out a tablet, his hands trembling. The photo on the screen made my stomach drop. A body—crushed, mangled, unrecognizable, but clothed in the hospital gown Seraphina had worn.

My throat closed.

The butler’s whisper pierced me. “The detective wants to talk to you. They confirmed it’s Miss Seraphina.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart twisted painfully, a foreign ache stabbing my chest. And then I understood—it wasn’t my grief. No. It was Adrian’s heart inside me. Adrian, who had loved Seraphina more than his own life. Adrian, who would bleed forever for her.

Tears spilled before I could stop them.

But I gritted my teeth, forcing the ache down. “I don’t care,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Tell them… tell them it was her. And so be it.”

And then—I smiled. I turned my eyes back to Helena, radiant as she reached the altar.

She was the one. She had always been the one. If I kept saying it, maybe it would be true.

The priest began his words. Guests leaned forward. Helena’s hand slipped into mine. My lips curved into the smile they expected.

“Do you, Dominic Blackwood, take Helena—”

The world blurred.

Her face flickered. It wasn’t Helena before me—it was Seraphina. Pale, trembling, her eyes wet with betrayal.

My chest convulsed. My mouth dried.

“I…” The word stuck in my throat.

Helena’s eyes widened. The room held its breath.

And then I tore my hand from hers. I stepped back, stumbling.

“No…” My voice broke, raw and hoarse. My gaze darted, searching for a ghost I could never find.

“No. Seraphina…”

Gasps rippled through the guests. Helena screamed, her voice sharp, hysterical. “Dominic! What are you doing?!”

But I was already running. Away from the altar, away from the wedding, away from Helena’s cries.

Only one name echoed in my chest, pounding against Adrian’s cursed heart.

“Seraphina…”