“You finally realized that only your family is good to you?”

Victor’s voice was smooth, unreadable, but I knew him well enough to catch the sharp edge hidden beneath his words.

He had read through my silence, or perhaps, he had always known that I was merely trapped in Raphael’s web of sweet lies.

My fingers tightened around the phone, my throat dry as I finally admitted, “I’m ending it with Raphael. I’ll be returning to Paris.”

A pause. Then, the sound of a slow exhale, deliberate and measured.

“Good,” Victor replied, his tone betraying no emotion except for the faintest trace of vindication. “You should’ve never been with him.”

A surge of frustration flared inside me, a mix of residual heartbreak and the exhaustion of always being told what I should and should not do. “I don’t need a lecture, Vic. I just need you to keep your word.”

Victor hummed, a low, considering sound. “You’ll be taken care of the moment you arrive. Your fiancé is expecting you.”

My stomach twisted.

A fiancé. A stranger. Another man whose presence in my life was dictated by obligation rather than choice.

But anything was better than staying in London, drowning in Raphael’s deceit.

Victor’s voice softened, though it still carried the weight of finality. “Take care of everything for a week. I expect you back then.”

And just like that, the call ended before I could say anything more.

I lowered the phone, staring blankly at the dimly lit bedroom around me. The silence felt heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

That was Victor. The older brother I once knew—sweet, protective, always teasing me with his rare but affectionate smiles—had disappeared years ago.

By the time he turned twenty, he had abandoned the warmth of the Delaunay estate, choosing solitude over family.

Our parents had asked why, and his response had been curt, “It’s only right that I struggle alone. I’ll return only for important occasions.”

And he had meant it. Even though he still met our father at the office, Victor had become a ghost in our family—present in name, but absent in all else.

I was fifteen at that time, so I had longed for my brother’s presence, missed the way he used to ruffle my hair, missed the way he once doted on me with quiet affection.

But at twenty-four, I felt nothing.

I had convinced myself I could live without his shadow. That I did not need him anymore.

But I was wrong.

Victor had calculated everything. And I had walked straight into his plan.

I sighed, the weight of my decision pressing down on my chest like an unbearable burden.

Without a word, I quietly packed my belongings—the clothes I had once folded neatly into Raphael’s drawers, the make up lined up beside his, the scent of his cologne lingering on the fabrics.

I did not belong there anymore. It never had been.

I did not need to stay in his space, where every wall whispered lies and every memory was tainted by betrayal. I would return to my own apartment, where at least the silence was not filled with deception.

As I reached for my makeup bag, my phone vibrated against the wooden nightstand. I hesitated before picking it up, expecting a call from Victor or perhaps another unwanted message from Raphael.

Instead, my screen lit up with an unexpected name.

Colette Birkin, my classmate, the girl who had lingered on the periphery of my relationship, always watching, always prying.

I tapped the message open, my fingers tightening around the phone.

[Nadine, you know if Raphael’s parents would never approve of a Delaunay, right? So, you better prepare, since they have arranged our engagement. They’ve wanted this for years.]

The air in the room seemed to vanish.

I re-read the message, disbelief twisting into something sharp and bitter in my chest. My classmate who had pretended to be nothing more than an amused onlooker, watching my love story unfold like a passing drama.

Only then did I realize—she had been part of the script all along.

My hands trembled. I knew Colette and Raphael had known each other since childhood, had attended the same prestigious schools, and had walked the same privileged paths.

Unlike me, the stranger who had barged into his world uninvited, she had always been there.

Yet, I had never imagined the betrayal would be this close.

A horrible thought struck me. "Could it be that she was there too?"

My voice came out in a whisper, my mind racing back to the cruel laughter of Raphael’s friends, the way they had mocked me, discussed my body as if I were nothing more than a scandal to be exploited.

Before I could process it, my phone buzzed again.

The words sliced through me like a blade, cold and merciless.

[You didn't really think you were special, did you? Raphael and I have known each other since childhood. Our parents already decided our future. You were nothing more than a doll, something Raphael used to bring down your family for his own gain.]

A hollow laugh escaped me, void of humor and emotion.

I had been a fool.

To think Colette was just another student. To think she was just a friend in Raphael’s circle.

It turned out, she was part of everything, even Raphael’s plan.

My chest ached, and for a fleeting moment, I felt the sting of tears burning behind my eyes. But I refused to let them fall.

Raphael had already stolen enough from me—my trust, my first love, my dignity. But they would not take my pride.

With newfound resolve, I zipped up my bag, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of the room.

As I walked past the room, the door suddenly swung open.

The sharp click of stiletto heels echoed against the marble floor, sending a chill down my spine.

And then I saw her.

Colette.

My intuition had been right all along. She had been among them—laughing, indulging in the cruel spectacle of my downfall.

With effortless grace, Colette stepped forward, a delicate crystal glass of wine in her hand, her expression a picture of practiced innocence.

She smiled at me, her lips curling with an unreadable amusement, then glided closer, her eyes feigning warmth.

“Nadine,” she sang sweetly, slipping her arm through mine as if we were old friends, as if she had not just stabbed me in the back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Apparently, you were here all along.”

Her voice was a melody of deception, gentle enough to fool the onlookers but sharp enough to make my stomach twist.

I jerked my arm away. “Stop pretending, Colette.”

But she only gripped me tighter, her nails digging into my skin in warning.

I could see the eyes of the other guests lingering on us, watching, curious—why was Colette Birkin, the golden child of the elite, treating me, the outsider, with such familiarity?

They did not know that every touch, every word from Colette was an act.

“What do you want now?” I asked her in a low but piercing tone.

Her smile never wavered as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.

“Are you asking because you’re stupid or pretending to be stupid, Nadine?” she whispered, her tone dripping with venom masked beneath honeyed sweetness. “I told you, our parents are still discussing the engagement. You, an insignificant nobody, should know when to step aside.

A cold fury spread through me. So, I tilted my head slightly, mirroring her closeness, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

If she wanted to play this game, I would give her something to choke on.

“Tell me, Colette,” I whispered, my voice as soft as silk. “Have you ever slept with Raphael?”

Her body tensed, so I continued, “If not, then you’re one level beneath me. Oh wait—let me correct myself. Ten levels beneath, because I doubt Raphael even considers you a friend.”

Colette’s entire demeanor snapped. Her grip on my arm faltered, and for the first time, the composed mask cracked. The rage behind her gaze was raw, burning.

I did not see it coming until it was too late.

Splash.

The rich red wine soaked into my dress, staining the fabric like blood. A gasp rippled through the crowd. Before I could react, Colette shoved me—hard.

The world tilted. My back collided against the cold, unforgiving wall, pain exploding along my spine. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the impact sent a ringing through my ears.

The room fell into stunned silence before the whispers began.

“What do you mean, Nadine?!” Colette’s voice rang out, feigning shock, twisting the narrative in her favor.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the growing audience, her mind already crafting a new scene—one where she was the victim, and I was the villain.

She placed a trembling hand over her chest, her voice dropping into something delicate, almost wounded.

“Why are you showing off your intimate relationship with Raphael? I know we’re friends, but isn’t that something you should keep private?”

Oh, she was good.

I was still catching my breath, still reeling from the force of her shove, when the murmurs spread like wildfire.

“Intimate? Wait… does that mean Nadine just slept with Raphael?”

“No wonder she was missing all night.”

“But isn’t that a bit much? Flaunting it in front of Colette? Poor girl.”

“Colette and Raphael are basically destined for each other. Their families have known each other forever.”

“Did Nadine do it on purpose? To challenge Colette?”

“I mean, I’ve had fun with my boyfriend, but I wouldn’t go around announcing it to the world.”

“Maybe Parisians think differently.”

At that moment, the cold sensation of wine also clinging to my skin sent a sharp shiver through me.

The deep red liquid seeped into my white blouse, darkening the fabric and making it translucent, exposing the lace outline of my black bra beneath.

Gasps and hushed whispers rippled through the crowd as people drew closer, their amusement turning into fascination, their mockery shifting into something more sinister.

"What a scene," someone murmured.

"Does she have no shame?"

"I bet she did it on purpose to seduce Raphael."

I gritted my teeth, the humiliation clawing at me like a beast, but I refused to let it consume me.

I slowly tried to push myself up, ignoring the way my legs trembled, the sharp ache in my back from the impact against the wall.

And then, a sharp, ugly expression flickered across Colette’s face.

For someone who had just staged a spectacle, she did not seem pleased by how it had turned out.

Still, she played her part flawlessly. Large, crocodile tears welled in her eyes as she let her voice break in feigned betrayal.

"Nadine, you know my feelings for Raphael, but why...?"

She sniffled, her delicate hands clenching over her chest as though she were the true victim in this scene.

The murmurs grew louder.

"Poor Colette… how could Nadine do this to her?"

"She was already humiliated, and yet she still flaunts that she had Raphael?"

"Disgusting. So shameless."

Just as I forced myself onto my feet, ready to end this ridiculous performance, a voice cut through the noise like a whip.

“What the hell are you all looking at? Focus on your own damn business!”

The authority in his tone silenced the crowd instantly.

I turned my head just in time to see Raphael, his sharp jaw clenched in fury, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered audience like a predator assessing its prey.

His steps were swift and controlled. Without hesitation, he reached for me, his hands firm yet gentle as he gripped my arms.

“Let me help you.”

Before I could protest, he had already pulled me up, his touch grounding me against the spinning dizziness of my emotions.

Then, in a move that stunned everyone, Raphael peeled off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, shielding my soaked blouse from prying eyes.

The warmth of his body still clung to the fabric, a stark contrast to the icy humiliation I had just endured.

For a brief second, I looked past him—at Colette.

She was not jealous.

No, her expression was something far worse. Satisfaction.

She stepped closer, her voice laced with innocent regret. "Raph, sorry... I only wanted to hold Nadine’s hand and talk to her, but she rejected me, and the wine—accidentally spilled."

Raphael turned to her, his expression darkening like a brewing storm.

"Then can you explain why she fell?" His voice was lethal.

Colette’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

For the first time, she looked small and weak, like a child caught in a lie.

But before she could scramble for another excuse, someone spoke up—one of her loyal supporters, stepping in to defend her.

"From what I heard, Nadine was the one who started it. She boasted about her night with you to Colette. She was shocked, that’s all."

"Yeah, I would have been shocked too."

"She’s so shameless."

The word stung like a slap, whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

I felt Raphael’s grip on me tighten.

Then, his voice, sharp and cold, echoed through the room.

“Who just said that?”

Silence.

“Who dares to call Nadine shameless? Come forward if you have the guts.”

No one moved.

Not a single person met his gaze.

The weight of his fury pressed down on the entire room like a force of nature, making even Colette’s once-adoring followers shrink into the background.

Raphael scoffed, pulling me closer, his arm wrapping protectively around my waist like I was something precious.

“Whatever it is, it’s up to Nadine. I don’t mind either. Why are you all making such a fuss?”

Colette’s lips trembled, but she did not dare speak. She did the only thing she could—crying.

Her silent tears only fueled the sympathy of her supporters, who rushed to console her.

Raphael ignored them entirely. His attention was solely on me, his voice softer, almost coaxing.

“Come to my room. Let’s get you changed.”

But I shook my head, stepping back.

“No need,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m going home.”

“Okay, let me take you home.”

Raphael still behaved as if nothing had changed. He opened the door for me, helped me with my seatbelt, and drove at a steady pace, as if we were not on the verge of destruction.

But I was not in the mood to be coddled.

I turned to him, my voice cold, sharp. "Why are you still being sweet to me even though you're going to marry Colette soon?"

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. His face darkened, jaw clenching as if the question alone was enough to enrage him.

"Who said that?" he demanded. "Is it Colette? Is that why you two were fighting earlier?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Did it look like a fight to you?" I shot back instead of answering his question.

Raphael exhaled sharply, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair, his usual composure slipping. "Listen, whatever you hear, it's not true. I will not engage with Colette, let alone marry her. I only love you, Nadine. I want to be with you forever.

"As for my parents' plan," he continued, "that was just their plan. I never agreed to it. Then…."

I cut him off, my voice colder than ever. "But you were always aware of Colette's unrequited love, right?"

He choked out, his grip on the wheel tightened.

"Then what’s the connection, Nadine? You know enough that I love you. That should be enough, right?"

His voice rose, frustration lacing every word.

It was not our first fight, but it was the first time I felt something break inside me.

I turned to him, my chest tightening with a pain I could no longer ignore. "It’s not enough, never enough.

"The truth is, you don’t really love me. You love me because I’m a Delaunay."

His head snapped toward me, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

"What do you mean? I don’t care who your family is!" he said fiercely. "I would be happier if you weren’t a Delaunay. Our relationship would be smoother if you weren’t tied to that name!"

"Yes, that’s right," I murmured. "You always think of me like that. A nuisance. A problem you need to overcome. A complication that shouldn't exist."

I took a shaky breath before delivering the final blow.

"So just get rid of me, Raphael. From now on, don’t worry about me. Don’t look for me. Just let me go."

And with that, I unbuckled my seatbelt, my fingers reaching for the door handle.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Raphael shouted, his voice laced with panic as he reached for my wrist. The car swerved slightly as he tried to regain control with one hand.

"Stop being unreasonable, Nadine!"

"Let go of me!" I struggled, trying to pull free from his grasp.

The car veered dangerously to the side, tires screeching against the asphalt. My pulse pounded in my ears. Everything was happening too fast.

Before I could even process it, our car crashed.

I felt my body being thrown forward, the world spinning as the windshield exploded into tiny shards.

For a brief moment, there was only weightlessness.

And then, darkness swallowed me whole.

When I regained consciousness, I could feel the ache in my body, a dull, persistent pain radiating from my head down to my limbs.

A thick brace supported my neck, an oxygen mask covered my face, and the weight of an IV tugged at my arm.

But what caught my attention first was the warmth of my hand. Someone was holding it.

I forced my heavy eyelids open, my vision hazy as I turned my head slightly, expecting to see Raphael.

And there he was. Sitting beside my hospital bed, his face bruised but otherwise unharmed, save for a few minor abrasions.

He was relaxed, seated comfortably, a stark contrast to my state.

But, since the anger still coiled in my stomach, with the last of my strength, I pulled my hand away from his grasp.

Raphael's fingers twitched at the sudden loss of contact. His sharp eyes flickered to me, widening with relief as he realized I was awake.

"Nadine..." His voice was breathless, laced with concern. He leaned forward, reaching out instinctively. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

I did not answer. I was too disgusted with his act. By the way he looked at me with such concern.

My silence made him panic. His brows furrowed and he said hurriedly, standing up, "I’ll call the doctor. They need to check you again—make sure there’s no internal injury."

Minutes later, after the examination, they removed my neck brace and oxygen mask. My head was still throbbing, my limbs weak, but aside from the IV in my arm, I was stable.

"You’re lucky," the doctor had said. "It could have been much worse."

Raphael lingered by my bedside, his fingers brushing against my hair in a way that would have once comforted me.

"I’ll take care of the administration first," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Then, to my utter revulsion, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. A silent apology. A feigned regret.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body stiff beneath his touch.

As soon as he left the room, my phone vibrated weakly on the nightstand. Its screen was cracked from the accident, but still functional.

I reached for it with difficulty, my breath hitching as Colette’s name flashed across the notification bar.

As I tapped the message open, a video file stared back at me, the play button almost mocking.

With trembling fingers, I pressed it.

The screen flickered to life, showing dimly lit security footage. At first, I could not understand what I was looking at—until I saw them.

Raphael’s parents.