During an Antarctic expedition, disaster struck. An avalanche hit without warning, and my fiancé, Aaron Moore, didn't even hesitate. He ran straight to Naomi Taylor, his first love, and left me to fend for myself.

On the other hand, Damien Pierce, the expedition leader, saw me teetering on the edge of an icy crevasse and didn't think twice. He risked his life to pull me back from the brink.

Later, on our wedding day, Aaron abandoned me at the altar. No explanation. No warning.

He just ran off with Naomi. And at that moment, Damien, without missing a beat, dropped to one knee and proposed.

We got married, and for a while, things seemed fine. Damien treated me well, as a husband should.

Life seemed normal for the first time in ages.

But, like everything that feels too good to be true, happiness didn't last.

Two years into our marriage, Damien was suddenly diagnosed with liver cancer.

I didn't think twice. I donated two-thirds of my liver to save him—anything to keep him alive.

But as I lay recovering in the hospital, everything changed. I overheard his best friend, Hayden, speaking to him in French.

"If Camille finds out you faked having liver cancer just to save Naomi, aren't you afraid she'll leave you with nothing?"

Damien held my hand, looking at me with those soft, affectionate eyes. But his next words chilled me to the bone.

"The marriage certificate was fake. But I do owe her. I'll make it up to her."

I had thought I'd finally found someone who cared about me. Someone who wouldn't leave me alone in the world.

But it was all a lie.

A well-played, elaborate lie.

——

I followed Damien to the VIP suite on the top floor of the hospital, thinking he was going to check on me. But in his haste, he forgot to close the door all the way.

As I approached, I caught a glimpse through the small gap. Naomi was in his arms, her face glowing with relief, her smile as radiant as ever.

I looked at myself in the reflection of the glass—pale, fragile, barely hanging on.

Between the two of us, who was really on the edge of death?

"Damien, I knew you wouldn't abandon me!" Naomi's voice was sweet, relief practically dripping from every word.

Damien gently stroked her hair, his voice soft and tender, a warmth I'd never felt from him before.

"As long as you're okay, that's all that matters."

...

I spent five months in the hospital after my surgery. Five months of drifting in and out of consciousness, all while Damien came and went. But how many of those visits had been to see Naomi, not me?

I watched him, his eyes filled with a warmth I'd never seen before. So this was how he looked when he was in love.

A memory flashed in my mind. It was not long ago that I had first regained consciousness. Damien was sitting beside me, gripping my hand tightly.

I tried to speak, to call his name, but before I could, I overheard Hayden, Damien's friend, speaking in French.

"Naomi's okay now, right? Man, I can't believe you. Five years of chasing her wasn't enough? And now you've tricked Camille, who gave up two-thirds of her liver to save you!"

Damien's voice was steady, unbothered. "I told you. I'll protect her for the rest of my life, no matter who she chooses."

Hayden scoffed. "You lied to Camille, married her, and used her to save Naomi. Aren't you afraid she'll find out and leave you with nothing?"

Damien responded with that same coldness that made my blood run cold. "We were never really married. Our marriage was fake. But I do owe her. I'll make it up to her."

Hayden was speechless. "Damien, you're unbelievable. Are you seriously still planning to be with Naomi?"

Damien didn't answer. His silence said it all.

He continued holding my hand, smiling at me like nothing had happened, but I could feel it. The warmth of his touch was fading, and for the first time, I knew.

I had never really known him at all.

I tried to hold it together.

"What were you two talking about?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "Did something happen?"

Hayden hesitated before turning to Damien and whispering in French. "She didn't hear us, right?"

Damien, however, didn't flinch. His voice was calm like he hadn't just broken my heart.

"It's about the expedition. The higher-ups discovered a cave in Antarctica—possibly an ancient site. They're still selecting a team for the mission because it's classified."

He lied so easily. And there, I understood everything.

I had never truly known him. Not at all.

Hayden let out a relieved breath. "Oh, I forgot—you don’t understand French. My bad. Damien and I are just used to speaking it."

I didn’t break my gaze, keeping my eyes locked on him. My stare must’ve been enough to make him squirm because he immediately tensed, then quickly mumbled something and bolted out of the room.

Two years ago, I wouldn’t have understood a word of what they’d been saying. But I worked hard to learn French, desperate to understand Damien.

And yet, the first words I ever heard spoken in that language pierced through me like a dagger.

...

"Camille, look! I made this soup for you. Try it!"

Damien placed a bowl of chicken soup in front of me like he was presenting some kind of masterpiece. His eyes were wide, full of warmth and anticipation, like I was supposed to be grateful.

How long had he been pretending? Wasn’t he tired of all the lies?

"That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’m not really in the mood for soup," I said, pushing his hand away and turning over to lie back down, closing my eyes.

I saw the flicker of disappointment cross his face before he quickly masked it. Without saying another word, he set the bowl down and left the room.

It wasn’t until later, when I saw the intimacy between him and Naomi in that hospital room, that I realized—my heart wasn’t even aching anymore.

It was numb.

I turned to leave, but as I did, I locked eyes with Naomi.

She smirked, a mocking glint in her eyes.

Was she laughing at how every man I’d ever loved had walked away?

Or was she savoring the fact that I had given everything—believing in love, in happiness—only to have it all come crashing down as a lie?

I lowered my head, unable to even muster the strength to confront her. I turned back to my room, feeling utterly drained.

Right then, I realized I was just… so tired.

...

I sat on the bed for what felt like hours, lost in thought. After a while, I grabbed my phone and called Dr. Jerry Adams, the director of the Antarctic Research Institute.

"Dr. Adams, I want to join the cave exploration mission."

There was a pause on the other end before he spoke. His voice had a cautious edge. "Camille, are you sure about this? The mission’s classified, and it’s incredibly dangerous. You've just recovered, I’m not sure you're physically ready for something like this."

I glanced down at the ring on my finger. "I can do it."

"Alright," he sighed, "I’ll send you the schedule and necessary precautions. Camille... you’re just as brave as your mother. Honestly, after everything that happened three years ago, I didn’t think you’d even want to step foot in Antarctica again."

I had thought the same. I had sworn I’d never go back.

But now? I was ready.

Three years ago, our research team, led by Damien, was deep in the snow-capped mountains on an expedition.

Out of nowhere, Naomi screamed—a piercing, blood-curdling sound that cut through the silence like a knife.

Before any of us could react, the ground shook beneath our feet. A roar filled the air as a massive avalanche descended, swallowing everything in its path.

And then, in that instant, I saw it all.

Aaron, my fiancé at the time, let go of my hand without a second thought.

No hesitation.

No panic.

It's just a cold decision.

He turned and bolted straight toward Naomi, his face etched with fear, but it was all for her.

Meanwhile, me? I was forgotten.

The snow hit with such force that it knocked me off my feet, throwing me like a ragdoll toward the edge of a cliff.

The wind howled in my ears as the snow lashed my face, and I reached out, grasping for something—anything—to hold on to. But all I caught was cold, empty air.

I was about to fall into the abyss when suddenly someone grabbed me.

'Damien...'

He lunged, throwing himself in front of me and pulling me into his arms as we tumbled together.

When we finally came to a stop, we were just inches from the cliff’s edge.

His face was pale, his lips stained with blood from the impact, but the first thing he asked was—

"Are you okay?"

Since my mom passed, that was the first time anyone had shown me real concern.

Or so I thought.

He played his part too well.

For the longest time, I truly believed that Damien’s love for me was real. His pursuit, his sweet words, and the tenderness he showed made me feel special like I had finally found the one who truly cared.

But now, looking back, I see it all for what it really was. From the very beginning, it had been a lie.

His pursuit? Fake.

Our marriage? Fake.

Even his illness? Completely fake.

And somehow, I had fallen for it all—hook, line, and sinker. I had gotten trapped in his so-called love and couldn’t escape.

Dr. Adams was wrong about me. I’m not like my mother. She sacrificed everything—her life, her soul—for the country’s scientific research. But maybe... just maybe, I’d found where I truly belong.

Three days after I woke up in the hospital, Damien came in, just like always. "Camille, how are you feeling? Any pain?" His voice was full of concern like it had been so many times before.

But this time, I couldn’t bring myself to answer with the warmth I once had.

Instead, I gave him a cold look and said, "I want to go home."

He froze for a moment, hesitation flashing across his face.

After a long pause, he finally said, "I’ll ask the doctor if you’re good to go."

A few hours later, after a thorough check-up, I was cleared to leave. Damien took me back to the place I thought of as home.

As soon as we walked inside, I felt something was off. The whole house was decorated like a party—streamers, balloons, and a huge birthday cake sitting in the middle of the dining table.

"Happy 26th birthday, Camille!" Damien smiled as he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.

I stared at the cake, completely stunned. "You remembered..."

"Of course I did," he said with a grin. "Now, make a wish and blow out the candles!"

I sat down in front of the cake, still in shock, but just as I was about to close my eyes to make a wish, my phone rang. Damien’s face immediately changed. His brows furrowed, and he quickly stepped into the study to answer it.

When he came back, his face was full of urgency. "Camille, something happened with Hayden. I need to go check on him. I’m sorry!"

Before I could even respond, he was already out the door.

A few minutes later, a video popped up on my phone. I clicked it, and suddenly, my whole world shattered.

The video showed Naomi, clinging to Damien’s sleeve, looking pale and fragile like she was about to break.

"Damien, I’m pregnant! I can’t believe it—I’m really pregnant! What should I do?" she cried, her voice shaky.

Damien wiped away her tears, his expression serious and reassuring. "Don’t worry, Naomi. I’ll take care of you and the baby."

Naomi’s eyes filled with fear as she asked, "But Aaron... he died in a car accident! What if my child grows up without a father?"

"Don’t worry," Damien said, his voice soft but firm. "I promise you, I’ll be the father to this child."

And with that, Naomi collapsed into his arms, her face lighting up with hope.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was being crushed. I was trembling as I held the phone. The image of them holding each other was seared into my mind. Each second of that moment felt like a hammer, striking over and over.

My vision blurred as hot tears spilled down my cheeks, one after another, without control.

Instinctively, my hand moved to my abdomen.

I remembered the ultrasound—how tiny she was, how fragile. She should have been here.

But the doctor had told me I couldn’t undergo a liver transplant while pregnant. The decision was made for me, and I had no choice but to go through with the abortion.

At first, I was so happy when I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to give her the best life.

But in this cruel twist, I had taken away her right to live.

And her father? He was making promises to another woman, vowing to be a father to her child.

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?!" I screamed, my voice breaking. I swiped my arm across the table, knocking the cake off and watching as it crashed to the floor.

I swept everything off the table—plates, glasses—all of it scattered to the ground.

But no matter how much I broke or shattered, the only thing that remained was the suffocating pain in my chest.