Everyone in the room had heard Alex’s words and whispers began to spread. Bryn squeezed her palm tightly, trying to control the emotions that threatened to spill over. She forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes and spoke to Alex.

“Since Mr. Sinclair says it was a coincidence, then I suppose it is.” She made her way toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Her back was so bent with the weight of the moment, it seemed as though she were a wilting flower, about to crumble.

Though Alex had forbidden anyone from discussing the plagiarism again, the rumors spread like wildfire. Bryn could feel them curling around her, tightening with every passing hour.

“Bryn, are you okay?” Nora caught up to her, her eyes full of concern.

Bryn forced a wave of her hand, a weak gesture that she hoped would signal to Lana not to worry. She couldn’t afford to break down—not now. Not with only three days before her brother’s surgery. But deep inside, she felt like she was crumbling under the weight of it all.

But the pain lingered, sharper than she expected. She couldn’t help but ask herself. Was it only me who had given so much over these past three years?

Her thoughts drifted back to Francesca’s face—the same face she’d once seen as a mirror to her own, only now it seemed like a cruel reflection, a reminder of everything she had failed to be. A cold wave of realization washed over her. It seemed so inevitable now—she had always been nothing more than Francesca’s substitute. From the very beginning, Alex had never truly loved her. It had all been a fantasy, a fleeting illusion.

She shouldn’t have expected more.

Bryn lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around her phone as she stared at a photo of her and Alex together. Maybe it’s time to leave.

These three years—perhaps she could just consider them a dream. And now, it was time to wake up.

The sound of high heels approaching interrupted her thoughts. Francesca, walking with the unmistakable air of someone who believed she had won, made her way over to Bryn.

“Bryn,” she said, her voice dripping with a satisfaction that made Bryn’s stomach churn. “Don’t mind what Alex said. Maybe it really was just a coincidence.”

Bryn forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like it might crack at any moment. Her throat was tight, a lump lodged there that she couldn’t swallow.

The door opened and Alex stepped in, his eyes immediately seeking out Bryn. When he saw the pallor of her face, a flicker of concern passed through his eyes. But just as he was about to ask if she wanted to grab a bite, Francesca stepped in between them, her arm linking with his as she flashed Bryn a look that could only be described as victorious.

“I’m hungry,” she purred, her tone playful, as though marking her territory.

Her voice felt like a blade to Bryn’s heart, cold and sharp, cutting into the raw wound that was already festering. Francesca then turned, pushing Alex toward the door, but not before pausing to glance back at Bryn, her smile as cold as the steel she was made of.

“Bryn,” she said, her voice all too sweet, “Would you like to join us?”

Bryn shook her head, her refusal coming out almost through clenched teeth. “No, thanks.”

Her voice was barely audible, fragile, as though it might break apart in the air at any second.

As the door shut, the office was left in a quiet emptiness, mirroring the hollowness in her heart.

Bryn took a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling of her body. She wiped away the tears, grabbed the file on the desk, but her mind kept drifting back to the past.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting patterned shadows across the floor. She could almost see that gentle Alex again—he used to wait for her every evening after work. He would look at her lovingly, with a slight smile on his lips. But ever since Francesca came back, everything had changed. Those moments that once filled her with sweetness now felt like knives, carving into her heart.

It turned out it had all been an illusion—his tenderness was never truly meant for her; it had always belonged to another woman. Bryn let out a bitter laugh as tears traced down her cheeks. She brushed them away in a swift motion, taking a deep breath to swallow the emotions welling up inside her. She couldn’t keep holding on to this any longer. It was time to let go.

As the night deepened, the office lights slowly dimmed and city lights began to glow in the distance. Finally, Bryn dragged her weary body out of the building. When she arrived back at the villa, she noticed the soft glow coming from the study. Alex was home.

On the dining table sat a neatly wrapped box from her favorite dessert shop—their signature cake she loved so much. Her heart gave a slight flutter. Had he remembered? But that brief moment of joy quickly dissolved as she noticed a new post on Francesca’s social media. It was a photo of the same cake, captioned, “I’m so happy. Someone remembered my favorite cake.” In the background of the picture, she could spot a familiar watch—Alex’s, the one she had given him as a birthday gift.

She remembered the day she gave it to him. He had smiled, beaming with joy and said, “From now on, you’ll spend every birthday with me.” How ironic those words seemed now. It wasn’t just their looks that she and Francesca shared; they apparently shared tastes too. Bryn stared at the cake on the table, feeling a wave of nausea rise within her.

The cake, she realized, was likely something he’d picked up while out with Francesca. She could almost picture it—Francesca teasing him playfully while Alex gazed at her with the warmth she’d once thought was hers.

Everything she had believed belonged to her was in reality shared with Francesca. She turned, her steps heavy and made her way upstairs, pausing outside the study. She raised her hand and knocked.

“Come in,” his deep voice responded from inside.