The doctor asked if I needed anything else. I forced a smile, bitter and metallic on my lips. “Has anyone come to see me?”

“I’m sorry… no one has,” she replied softly.

A chill settled into my chest then—not the kind that makes your skin crawl, but the kind that sinks deep into your bones, leaving a hollow, frozen ache.

When she left, I stared at the blank wall for what felt like hours. Eventually, I shoved the blanket off me. Every movement sent jagged waves of pain through my body, but I ignored it.

“Mrs. Ramirez?” a nurse called as she entered. “You shouldn’t be up and moving. You lost a lot of blood. Your stitches—”

“I’m leaving,” I said, voice flat, cutting her off. “I don’t care that I’m still bleeding. I’m not staying another second.”

She tried to reason with me, worry etched across her face. “You’re not stable enough—”

“I said I’m leaving. Just bring me whatever I need to sign,” I snapped.

She stared at me for a long moment, hesitating, then retreated. A few minutes later, she returned with the discharge papers.

Every step toward the door was agony. My legs trembled, my back screamed, but I forced myself forward.

Halfway down the hall, I saw them. Vincent and Natalia, my twin sister, sitting side by side in another room. Laughing. Smiling. As if nothing had happened. As if my babies had never existed.

I turned away before they could notice me.

They had taken everything from me once. I wasn’t letting them do it again.

This time, I had Percival. The man who concealed an empire behind a polite smile. The man whose name was spoken only in hushed tones, the man who could reduce the entire Ramirez dynasty to ashes without lifting a finger.

I was done being their victim.

Vincent was feeding Natalia soup, that fake gentle smile plastered on his face, the same smile he never bothered to give me. Natalia sat there, fragile-looking but smug, soaking in every bit of attention like she was royalty.

Once, seeing them like this would have shattered me. Now, I felt nothing. I turned to slip past them, but, as usual, luck had other plans.

“Althea?” His voice cut through me. I stiffened, jaw tightening.

I turned slowly, face calm, hiding the storm inside. When our eyes met, I glimpsed a flicker in him—guilt, maybe, like he suddenly remembered I even existed.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” he stammered, pushing himself upright from the chair beside Natalia. “How are you feeling?”

I didn’t answer. My silence said everything I needed it to.

Vincent’s shoulders slumped. “Your sacrifice… it wasn’t in vain,” he murmured, eyes locking on mine as if trying to force me to believe him. “Natalia’s fine. Her baby is healthy. You saved them both.”

I laughed—sharp, bitter, humorless. He flinched.

Natalia placed her hand gently on her flat stomach, her sweetness feigned. “Vincent hasn’t left me alone for a second. He’s been so good to me.”

I refused to stay and watch their sick charade. I turned to leave, but Vincent sprang to his feet, reaching for me.

“Wait, Althea. Just wait.”

I froze—not because I wanted to, but because I knew how ridiculous it sounded to even consider listening.

“I’m throwing a party tonight,” he blurted. “To celebrate your recovery and Natalia coming home safe. It’s been… difficult. My father will be there. He really wants to see you.”

I said nothing.

He stepped closer, softer now, as if sincerity could make a difference. “Let me drive you home. We’re all going the same way.”

“I’m not going home,” I said flatly. “I’m going to my parents’ vineyard.”

Percival had promised to watch over it once I accepted his offer. It was the only piece of my parents left. Something Vincent could never touch.

“The vineyard? Why?” Vincent blinked, confused.

I tilted my head, keeping my expression icy. “I have business there. None of your concern.”

Natalia’s eyes brightened suddenly, her fake charm on full display. “Perfect timing. I was planning to visit too. After all, it is our parents’ vineyard.”

That caught me off guard. She had always acted like it didn’t matter.

Vincent nodded quickly. “Then we’ll come with you.”

I stared at him, surprised at how eagerly he agreed. The same man who once called the vineyard a waste, a burden, now jumped at the chance to go because Natalia mentioned it.

I allowed a quiet sneer. “Fine. You can come. But there’s one thing I need from you first.”

Vincent straightened, hopeful. “Anything.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the papers I’d held since he brought Natalia home. Divorce papers.

He took them, brow furrowed. “What’s this?”

“My discharge form,” I said flatly, not meeting his gaze.

He hesitated—always so careful when signing—but glanced at Natalia. She fluttered her lashes, smiled sweetly, and suddenly he forgot all caution.

“I’m tired, Vincent,” she purred. “Let’s go home quickly.”

He nodded, barely glancing at the papers before signing.

The moment his pen lifted, a small, victorious smirk spread across my lips.

“Thank you,” I said, slipping the documents back into my bag. “Now I’m free from you.”

He didn’t even register the meaning behind my words. His attention was glued to Natalia, completely blind to what I had planned.

When we reached the car, Natalia immediately reached for the front passenger seat as if it were hers by right. But Vincent gently grabbed her arm and held her back.

“Hold on, Natalia,” he said softly, then turned to me with a tentative, hopeful smile. “Althea, maybe you should take the front seat.”

“No way,” Natalia pouted, stamping her foot lightly. “I get so dizzy sitting in the back. And lately, the baby’s been making me feel awful, Vincent.”

I rolled my eyes, unimpressed.

Vincent looked stuck between us, clearly trying to navigate how to keep us both happy.

“It’s fine,” I said coldly. “Let her sit up front.” He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “I said it’s fine. Let her have the seat. I don’t care.”

A tense silence fell. Natalia beamed triumphantly, and Vincent frowned, but he didn’t argue.

I slid into the backseat, every muscle aching, and leaned my head against the cold window, staring outside as if I weren’t even there.

After a few minutes, Natalia started her usual act, fishing for a reaction.

Her hand found Vincent’s thigh, fingers slowly tracing circles. I didn’t turn to look, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught her smirk, smug and deliberate.

Vincent stiffened immediately. “Natalia,” he muttered under his breath, moving her hand away.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence.

When he said nothing more, she tried again, this time letting her fingers wander higher.

“I said stop!” Vincent snapped, his voice sharp now.

She flinched, and tears welled up in her eyes. She turned her face away and began quietly sobbing into her hands.

“Why are you yelling at me?” she whimpered. “I’m carrying your child, Vincent. And you’re yelling at me?”

Vincent ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “Sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to yell. Just… not with her here.”

He never said my name, never acknowledged I existed in the backseat.

Natalia sniffled and leaned forward to rummage through the glove box. “Just looking for tissues,” she murmured.

What she pulled out was far from tissues: a small piece of bright red lace panties. She giggled, holding them up like a trophy.

“Oh, Vincent,” she said playfully. “Remember when we couldn’t make it to the hotel? You just pulled me into your lap right here.”

“That’s enough,” Vincent said sharply, refusing to look at her.

“Oh, relax,” she rolled her eyes. “Althea gets it. Hormones make you crazy. Lucky you’re here to help.”

Her hand slid back onto his thigh. This time, he didn’t move it.

Vincent glanced in the rearview mirror, and our eyes met for a brief instant. I looked away before he could catch the storm brewing behind mine.

Once, that same glance could melt me. I remembered the first time we met: a charity dinner my parents hosted, him a last-minute stand-in for a flaky investor. Dark suit, broad shoulders, that half-smile that made my heart stumble.

“Do you always stare at people like that?” he’d asked. I’d been too stunned to answer. That night, he walked me to my car and kissed me under the moonlight. Back then, he saw me.

For the first two years, he treated me like I was the only woman alive. Friday night dinners at the vineyard, glass always full, always asking if I’d eaten, sneaking away among the vines to laugh like teenagers.

Then Natalia returned.

She claimed to be studying architecture abroad—a term she loved to toss around to sound impressive. The truth? She’d never finished a degree. Hated studying. Changed courses like trying on clothes she’d never buy. Paris, Rome, Tokyo—she’d been everywhere except where she was supposed to be.

Her return brought chaos, subtle at first: little laughs at my expense, innocent touches on Vincent’s arm at dinners. And now, here we were, her hand on his thigh.

The man who swore no one would ever come between us was now sitting next to the only woman who ever had.

**

By the time I reached the vineyard, I didn’t speak a word. I exited the car and walked past Vincent and Natalia without looking back.

The wrought-iron gates loomed as they always had, familiar yet heavy with memory. My parents had bought this land in the early 1980s, transforming bare soil into sprawling rows of vines that fed generations. They were gone, leaving the vineyard as the only tangible piece of their lives I had left.

My chest tightened with memory, but I pushed it down. I had business to take care of.

Mr. Santiago, the estate manager, looked up from his ledger as I entered the main house. His eyes widened, then softened into a warm smile.

“Miss Althea,” he said, rising quickly. “Welcome back.”

“I need to speak with you,” I said bluntly, cutting to the point.

We were wrapping things up when a sudden, terrified scream split the air.

My heart leapt into my throat. Something was wrong.

I bolted toward the door, Mr. Santiago right behind me.

The moment I stepped outside, the acrid sting of smoke hit me like a fist.

Shouts rose from the west fields.

I ran forward and froze. Flames were consuming the vines—my parents’ legacy, the lifeblood of their decades of work. My vision blurred, and my chest tightened as I watched fire devour everything my family had built.