Davina’s POV

The car slowed to a stop in front of the house, but Daxon made no move to get out.

I frowned at him, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He cleared his throat before explaining, “There’s this… thing. Cleo’s cheer squad needs a football for their graduation routine. I was thinking maybe she could borrow the one we have.”

The football.

The one I gave him when the team nearly kicked him out.

The one that made history in their final game.

The one he clutched, saying he’d keep it forever—because it was from me.

Now he wanted to hand it off like a meaningless prop for someone else’s celebration.

He looked at me, waiting.

I nodded. “No problem.”

His relief was instant. He pulled me into a hug—until I turned my face away before he could kiss me.

His smile faltered. Just for a second. Then he straightened.

“If it’s urgent, why don’t you bring it to her now?”

The light returned to his face like someone had flipped a switch. He grabbed the ball and bounced to the door, turning to call out, “Once Cleo’s graduation’s over, we’ll finally do the wedding. I swear—no more delays this time!”

I smiled and said nothing.

Because I knew—our wedding was never going to happen.

As his car sped away, I stroked my belly with my hand. “Baby, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I once promised to give you a happy life, but it looks like I’m going to break that promise. Please don’t hate Mommy, okay?”

On the way to the hospital, my cab slowed near the entrance. That’s when I saw her.

Cleo. She was outside the OB-GYN wing.

I froze. My trembling hand clutched my belly.

Then I caught a flash of movement in the hallway. Familiar shoulders. Familiar walk.

Daxon.

Before I could think, my phone buzzed. I opened it, and the world dropped out.

Dozens of videos. Dim lighting. Bare skin. His body. Her sounds.

Faces out of frame, but it didn’t matter. I knew that muscular back. Those hands. That voice.

The moaning. The gasping. The rhythm. The way she whispered his name between breaths.

It was the kind of explicit scene that would make anyone’s face flush and heart race.

But I didn’t blink.

Even though I already knew there was no blood relation between Daxon and Cleo—that everything that should and shouldn’t have happened between them already had—I still couldn’t stop my heart from aching when it was presented so blatantly in front of me.

I quickly wiped the tears off my face.

But when I looked up, I saw her. She gave me a provocative look.

That’s when I knew. She sent them. Every photo. Every video.

‘She wants to replace me as Daxon’s wife. Fine. She can take it.’

I finished my check-up, walked outside, and turned down the steps… when a car came hurtling toward me.

I instinctively stepped back, but the next moment, a hard shove sent me forward—I crashed straight into the car.

I slammed into the car hood before collapsing on the pavement.

All I could do was curl inward, my arms around my belly.

But my leg twisted at a wrong angle.

The pain exploded like lightning, branching up my spine. All the sensations in my body seemed to converge in my leg. Even the wind brushing against my skin made the pain worse.

Then I heard her.

“Ouch! Ouch! My ankle! Daxon, come help me!”

I twisted around. She was looking down at me like a victor, pretending to clutch her perfectly fine ankle.

I was sure now. ‘She’s the one who pushed me just moments ago!’

Daxon arrived moments later, his eyes darting between us as if asking why the two women in his life were there.

Cleo burst into tears on cue like a pitiful kid.

“Daxon, that car almost hit me! I tried to pull Davina back, but she pushed me toward it! Look—my ankle!”

Just like that, Daxon’s brows knitted together as he looked at me.

My fractured leg was hidden under my long skirt. He probably didn’t understand why I was slumped on the ground. He just sighed, then turned to lift Cleo into his arms.

As she rose, her foot struck my shin hard right where the bone was already broken.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard and swallowed every scream.

In my head, I just counted.

‘One hundred. Daxon, this is it—let’s never see each other again!’

Davina’s POV

I sat alone in the sterile white of the hospital room for a while, staring at the phone in my hand for a few seconds before finally calling my father.

“I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll marry into the Ashbournes.”

My parents arrived in under ten minutes.

My mother didn’t bother hiding her delight. “See? Would’ve saved us all the trouble if you’d just agreed from the start. I told you Daxon was a mistake!”

I just watched her silently, my mind bringing back memories.

Years ago, when the Ashbournes offered an engagement, I chose love over legacy. I chose Daxon.

Now, with one phone call, my parents were ready to erase him from the picture like he was never part of it.

That’s what the Ashbournes did to people. It made everyone disposable.

“But you’re pregnant,” my mother added, eyes narrowing as if I’d forgotten that tiny inconvenience. “That’s gonna complicate—”

“I scheduled the procedure,” I said. “But I need your signatures.”

Her eyes lit up again. “Oh! Perfect, perfect! Where do I sign? Let’s get it done today.”

She was practically bouncing, ready to wrap me up with a bow and ship me off.

I looked at her like I wasn’t looking at my own mother.

My father gently tugged at her sleeve. “Davina’s leg is still injured. Let her rest.”

She frowned, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t hand me over to the Ashbournes.

“Fine. In a couple of days then. You know I’m only thinking of what’s best for you. It’s just… the longer you wait, the more complicated things can get.”

I turned my face away and shut my eyes. I didn’t even want to look at my own mother anymore.

Back then, they used my baby to pressure me into marrying Daxon. Now, the baby was an obstacle to a better match.

‘Funny how fast things change.’

Three days later, I was discharged.

Just as I was limping my way home, I ran into Daxon and Cleo again.

She was tucked into his chest like she belonged there. They looked like one of those couples who couldn’t get enough of each other.

Daxon’s eyes found mine. He took a step toward me—then stopped, yanked back by Cleo’s hand in his.

“Davina! Where’d you been these past few days?” she chirped, her voice soaked in fake concern. “He’s been so worried.”

She started walking toward me, her face soft, her smile tight. But her eyes…

There it was again. That flash of something sharp and mean.

I tried to sidestep her—forgot for one stupid second that my leg wasn’t ready.

I stumbled backward, off balance—and she fell with me.

Only, she wasn’t falling. She threw herself down! Her elbow slammed into my belly, and her foot jammed into my already-broken leg!

The world lit up with pain. My mind went blank for a second.

Somewhere in the blur, I heard her have the nerve to cry out dramatically.

And just like that, Daxon rushed in straight to her and lifted her off the ground.

Just like last time.

Just like all the times before.

One hundred and one times, to be exact.

And every single time, he chose her. Never me.

But now, it didn’t sting. Not like before.

Because this was the 101st time. There would be no more “next time” for me and him.

Holding Cleo, Daxon looked at me awkwardly as I lay on the ground, trembling in pain, cold sweat beading on my forehead.

“Davina, Cleo’s ankle—she just recovered. I…”

I clenched my fists. I kept my voice even. “I’m fine. I can manage. Go.”

He didn’t need convincing.

He was gone before I could finish the breath.

I lay there for a moment, staring up at what used to be our home.

Tears slipped silently down the sides of my face.

This home had held five years of memories. It justlooked strange. I couldn’t find a single one that belonged just to me.

Big photos covered the walls—Cleo’s face everywhere. Her portraits. Shots of her and Daxon smiling like they were posing for wedding invites.

There was only one photo of me and Daxon—and Cleo stood between us in that one, too.

She was clinging to his side, and I looked like a stranger, a photobomber.

A forced smile formed in my lips. ‘Whatever. None of it matters anymore.’

Half an hour later, a helicopter landed. The Ashbournes sent it.

Within the hour, news of my engagement was everywhere. The top story, trending across the globe.

When Daxon found out, he came running back.

But, he was too late.

I watched him from the chopper window—sprinting like a madman across the lawn, shouting my name, trying to reach me.

But everything between us was like the wind roaring past my ears—already gone.