A sharp pain lanced through my chest.

My mother's stroke had been Roberta's doing. She'd deliberately played those bedroom photos at my wedding to my ex, broadcasting them for every guest to see. Then she'd eloped with him right there, leaving me as the punchline of the entire reception. The shock and fury sent my mother collapsing, unconscious.

To get her the treatment she needed, I'd transferred her from hospital to hospital until we ended up in Havenport, where I met Clay, a renowned neurosurgeon. Over the course of my mother's treatment, we'd gradually fallen in love.

I understood the threat buried in Julia's words. The Vances were a prominent family. If I ruined this wedding and embarrassed them, my mother would be thrown out of Vance Hospital.

"Mom!"

Clay cut Julia off, his tone measured but firm. "Lydia is my wife. Her mother is my mother-in-law. Taking care of her is my responsibility."

He turned to me, his voice softening into something close to a plea. "Sweetheart, if nothing else, at least for the sake of everything I've done for your mother, can we not make a scene today? Please?"

I dug my nails into my palms and let my expression crumple into something wounded and fragile.

"Clay, do you really not know that makeup artist? Because she whispered to me just now that you told her to make me look ugly on purpose, to get back at me for something. That's why I got upset."

The moment the words left my mouth, the guests who had been looking at me with disapproval shifted. Sympathy replaced their irritation.

A muscle twitched at the corner of Clay's mouth. Then he smoothed it over with a reassuring smile. "She was talking nonsense. Just jealous that you married well."

When I didn't respond, he sighed and relented. "I'll file a complaint against her right now. Would that make you feel better?"

Only then did I let myself smile. "Then you have to swear."

"If you really have anything to do with her, if you ever betray me, we divorce. No discussion."

Clay coaxed me gently, raised his right hand, and swore.

The guests laughed warmly. "You're overthinking it. Clay only has eyes for you."

Outside the banquet hall, Roberta's face flashed past the doorway, twisted with venom at having failed. I didn't spare her a glance.

The wedding ended.

I had just started toward my room to change out of the gown when someone pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and let it happen.

Just like last time.

Roberta and Clay stumbled together, tangled in each other, and crashed through the door of a neighboring guest room. They fell onto the bed, unable to contain the sounds spilling between them.

My eyes snapped open. I moved fast, slipping downstairs to where my in-laws were still chatting with guests.

This time, I didn't do what I'd done before. I didn't blurt out that Roberta had drugged me and crawled into my husband's bed.

Instead, I put on a look of concern.

"Mom, Dad, I think Clay had too much to drink. He doesn't seem well."

Julia and Garry Vance, ever doting on their son, were on their feet in an instant. A swarm of Vance relatives, eager for any bit of excitement, followed close behind as I led them all upstairs.

The moment we reached the guest room door, the sounds from inside were unmistakable.

Every face in the crowd went rigid.

They rushed to block the door, to cover it up, but I was faster. I pushed it wide open.

"Clay? Are you feeling okay?"

The door swung back. The two figures tangled on the bed sprang apart, scrambling to yank the sheets over themselves.

Through the wall of stunned relatives, Roberta caught my eye and flashed me a triumphant smile.

The hallway erupted.

"Oh my God, that woman. Isn't that the makeup artist from this morning?"

"So Lydia was telling the truth the whole time. I can't believe..."

Garry's face turned a deep, furious red. "Clay! Look at what you've done!"

Julia charged past everyone and seized Roberta by the arm, dragging her off the bed. "This is all your doing! You little tramp, you must have slipped my son something. You made him think you were Lydia!"

"Son, that's what happened, right? We're calling the police! We'll throw this tramp in jail!"

The moment those words left his mother's mouth, Roberta's bravado crumbled. Her eyes welled with tears, and she shrank into Clay's arms.

"Enough!"

Clay roared, shielding Roberta with his entire body.

He lifted his head and looked at me through the crowd.

His eyes were dark, impenetrable. Not a flicker of panic. Not a trace of guilt.

"Lydia, let's talk."

The Vance parents cleared everyone out of the room.

Only the three of us remained.

I didn't think there was anything left to say.

All I could think about was why, in this life, I hadn't sent Roberta to prison, hadn't let her rot behind bars. And yet he could still face me like this without an ounce of remorse.

I couldn't tell if what I felt was bitterness or hatred.

I pulled off my wedding ring and tossed it into the trash can.

My voice was flat.

"You made a vow. If you lied to me, we divorce."

"Clay, I'll have the divorce papers drawn up as soon as possible."

"Lydia!"

Clay's voice stopped me from behind.

"I'm not divorcing you."

I spun around, and for the first time, I looked at him with pure hatred.

"Then I'll file for divorce in court!"

"Go ahead and try."

Clay's face was half-swallowed by the dim light, his features blurred and unreadable.

"If you dare file for divorce, I'll cut off your mother's treatment immediately."

"I guarantee that no hospital in this city—no, in the entire country—will take her."

"Clay Vance!"

I clenched my jaw. My whole body trembled uncontrollably.

I must have looked utterly pathetic and powerless, because I saw Roberta break into a gleeful smile.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"If you love her, just divorce me! You two can be together out in the open! Why do you have to drag me into this?"

I looked at Clay through my tears.

"I already stepped aside for you. I've never done a single thing to wrong you! Why won't you just let me go?"

Clay's voice was cold and detached.

"You haven't wronged me. But you've wronged Roberta."

My eyes went wide.

"When did I ever—"

Clay let out a scornful laugh.

"Every single boyfriend Roberta ever had—didn't you steal them all?"

"You, hiding behind that so-called 'loyalty tester' act, seduced every one of Roberta's boyfriends, slept with them, pushed her into depression until she nearly killed herself!"

"You stole so many of her lovers. It's about time you found out what it feels like to have your own man taken from you."

"And your mother! Do you dare tell everyone what actually caused her brain hemorrhage?"

"Your mother tried to help you steal a man. She showed up at Roberta's wedding and made a scene, and people cursed her until she collapsed. Your mother's lying there half-dead because she deserved it."

My head exploded. I lunged at them on pure instinct.

My palm cracked across Clay's face.

But when I raised my hand again, swinging at Roberta—

Clay shoved me away.

"Enough! Even now, you're still bullying Roberta!"

I wiped my tears and ground out every word through clenched teeth.

"I never did any of that! None of it! Clay Vance! Roberta is the one who stole my boyfriends! She's the one who eloped with my ex at the wedding and sent my mother into a rage until she collapsed!"

"There were witnesses. Every chat log is still on my phone. You can check for yourself—"

"Enough!"

Clay's palm cracked across my face, cutting me off mid-sentence.

His expression was murderous.

"Even now, you won't admit it. You won't repent."

"Lydia, I never knew you were this shameless. This heartless."

"You won't confess? Still lying?" His voice dropped to something dangerous. "Fine. Let's see just how stubborn you really are."

He stood, seized my arm, and dragged me toward the stairs.

"Clay! Let go of me!"

He ignored my struggling, hauled me down to the basement freezer, and shoved me inside. The lock clicked into place.

"Let me out! Clay!"

I slammed my fists against the door, over and over.

The only answer was his voice, cold and merciless, from the other side.

"You won't admit it? Then let's find out what gives first. Your life, or your pride."

"The moment you confess and get on your knees to apologize to Roberta, I'll let you out."

I pounded on the door until my hands went numb. No one came.

The cold seeped in fast.

I slid to the floor, helpless, my body temperature dropping by the second.

I didn't know how long I'd been in there when the door finally opened.

I looked up. Roberta rushed in, face full of concern, reaching down to help me to my feet.

"Sweetie, are you okay? Come on, let's get you out of here! We need to get you to a hospital!"

I stared at the sincerity painted across her face, and something inside me split apart.

"Roberta, why are you doing this to me?" My voice cracked, barely holding together. "What did I ever do to you? Why do you keep hurting me?"

If I had to choose who I hated more, it wasn't Clay. It was her.

We'd grown up together. We'd been best friends since childhood.

I was the one who stepped in front of her when that senior girl tried to slap her in school. Took the hit for her.

And she'd clung to my arm and sworn we'd be together forever.

Yet this was the same girl who, later, drove a knife into my heart again and again.

Roberta put on a wounded, aggrieved expression.

"I was just worried you'd been deceived by a terrible man. I only wanted to help you find a husband who truly loved you and trusted you."

"Look! If I hadn't tested him this time, you would've married a bad man. What if someday another woman came along and made up lies about you, just like I did? Then you'd—"

I flung her hand off, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.

"You weren't doing it for my sake! Every single time, all you've done is hurt me!"

Roberta blinked, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Okay, okay. You're right. It's my fault. Let's just get you to the hospital first."

She pulled me up by force. My legs could barely hold me. She pushed me into the car.

The car drove straight past the hospital. Straight toward a hotel.

I watched the road with growing alarm.

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

She just smiled, something secretive curling at the corners of her mouth, and dragged my weakened body out of the car and into a room.

The door swung open. Inside stood a group of burly men, leering, their faces twisted with ugly intent.

Roberta let out a piercing scream, ripped her own clothes, smashed her own forehead against the doorframe until it bled, and bolted out of the room.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Miss Sawyer! I won't fight you for him! I won't fight you for anything! Please stop hitting me!"

Every instinct in my body screamed danger. I forced myself upright, reaching for her, trying to grab hold of her.

Before I could steady myself, the door was kicked open.

Clay took in the scene. Me. The men behind me.

His eyes went red.

His hand whipped across my face.

"Lydia! Do you have a death wish?!"

"Not only do you refuse to repent, now you're trying to destroy Roberta?! You'd go this far to ruin her?! How can you be this vicious?!"

"I didn't!"

I bit down on my lip and screamed.