Two days ago, when I returned to my parents' house, I saw Chloe on a video call with Mickey.

She called him Jack and mentioned the orphanage.

It felt like a bolt of thunder struck me in the chest.

That name—Jack—split something open inside me. The past, long buried and quiet, surged back like a tidal wave.

I wanted—no, needed—to confront her. But before I could, she knocked me out and locked me away.

She mocked my naivety, forced some drug down my throat that took my voice, stole my phone and every piece of ID I had, then staged a scene where she played the victim—left behind on a mountain by me.

And Mickey, of course, believed every word.

He was furious. Dragged me to the car like a criminal and dumped me in that cabin on the mountain.

I couldn't speak, only cry, pleading with him with my eyes.

He kicked me to the ground and said coldly, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day."

The wedding.

Our wedding.

It was in three days.

We've loved each other for five years. I'd spent every day hoping we'd build a home together.

But he just turned away and locked the door behind him, cutting off the last thread of hope I had.

I pounded on the door, again and again, praying he'd come back, that he'd change his mind. But what came instead were a few large, brutish men, their faces full of violence and cruel amusement.

Their filthy eyes, the twisted grins—they're etched in my mind.

I held my arms tight around myself, my gaze blank as I watched the couple in front of me, locked in an embrace.

Chloe's clothes had slipped halfway down. Her cheeks were flushed, fingers trailing softly across Mickey's chest.

Then, the phone rang.

Annoyed, Mickey frowned, but the persistent ringing left him no choice.

He kissed the corner of her lips. "Gimme a sec, let me take the call."

His eyes darkened as he saw the contact name.

"William," he said coldly. "This better be important, or I'm docking your pay."

On the other end, William's voice trembled, barely holding together.

"Sir… Wendy, she… she…"

He couldn't finish. Even a grown man like him, over six feet tall, looked like he might fall apart.

As the broken words came through the phone, Mickey's patience snapped. "William, spit it out! Or are you begging for a business trip to some remote place?"

William sucked in a breath, then blurted out, "No, sir—Wendy… she's dead."

Silence.

Total silence.

Even I heard it. The words were so clear.

No wonder William had sounded so scared—he'd opened the cabin.

After suffering a day and a night of torment, my limbs were bent unnaturally, and my bones were snapped. Blood had pooled beneath me like a lake. My eyes… were just hollow sockets now.

Even I was afraid of what I looked like.

I studied Mickey's face carefully, unwilling to miss even the smallest twitch of emotion.

We'd loved each other for five years. That was real.

I remember back in college, I once snapped at him over a competition. Yelled at him for nearly an hour.

He just pulled me into a gentle hug, asking softly if I was still mad. Said I could hit him if it made me feel better.

I'd laughed, right then, and kissed him.

But everything changed after he met Chloe.

He gave all his tenderness to her. All his trust. With me, there was only irritation and doubt.

Now that he knew I was dead, I wondered—would he feel something? Anything? Even just for a second?

But Mickey didn't flinch. He didn't show disbelief or sorrow.

Instead, he sneered.

"William, since when did you start working for Wendy? How much is she paying you to say this crap? You pull something like this again, and you're out."

He hung up.

Just like that.

I curled in on myself, pain radiating through my chest.

Mickey. My dear Jack…

You said you'd love me forever. That you'd be good to me for the rest of our lives.

But you broke your promise.

"Jack... did something happen to Wendy?" Chloe's voice trembled. "The wedding's the day after tomorrow. You should go find her. I'm fine, really. I've always been alone. I'm used to it."

Her eyes dimmed, the light in them flickering out like a candle in the wind.

Mickey gently patted her back. "Rose, don't be afraid. I won't let you be alone anymore."

Chloe smiled again, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Really? But you're getting married. You'll be Wendy's husband soon. Jack... you can't stay with me forever."

She tried to pull away from his embrace, but he held her tightly by the waist, refusing to let her go.

His eyes were dark, filled with restraint and a pain he couldn't quite hide.

"Don't go, Rose. Even if I get married to Wendy, I can still be with you. I'll talk to Wendy on the wedding day. I'll ask her to let you move in. After that, we'll never have to be apart again."

Every word was tender, filled with earnest sincerity.

Chloe looked up at him and asked softly, "What if Wendy doesn't agree?"

Mickey fell silent for a moment before answering coldly, "Then I'll call off the wedding."

I curled my lips into a bitter smile, not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.

He treated Chloe with such care because of "Rose"—because she reminded him of our childhood, of me. And yet, he was willing to sacrifice the present me for the memory of the me from back then.

It was like being trapped in thick and blinding fog. I couldn't see a way out.

Chloe's eyes welled up with tears as she buried herself in his arms. But the smug curl at the corner of her mouth… I saw it all too clearly.

The next day, Mickey got a call from the bridal shop. The alterations were done. The dress was ready for pickup.

Expressionless, he tried calling me.

Once. Twice. Over and over again.

No answer.

Only the cold, mechanical voice: The number you have dialed is unavailable.

And with that, the last of his patience evaporated.

"Wendy, don't ever answer my calls again. Ever."

I laughed silently to myself.

Is that so? Mickey... you'll get your wish. Because I won't ever be able to pick up your call again.

Unable to find me, he brought Chloe to the bridal shop instead.

I stood there and watched—watched as Chloe put on my wedding dress.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her hand covering her mouth as she sobbed quietly.

"Mickey, this feels like a dream. Pinch me. Please. Am I dreaming? Am I really wearing a wedding dress... for you?"

His eyes were full of affection, but he held himself back.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, laced with longing and tenderness.

"Yes, you are. Rose... you're beautiful."

Chloe's eyes turned red as she looked up at him, hope flickering like flame.

"Mickey... if Wendy didn't exist, if we'd met first... would you have married me?"

Silence.

I held my breath, the weight in my chest threatening to collapse in on itself.

Then I heard him say it, without hesitation. "Yes."

That one word shattered everything. My fingertips trembled.

I watched as Chloe rose onto her toes, lips pressing against Mickey's cheek.

His eyes darkened.

He took control, pulling her in, one hand behind her head, the other wrapped firmly around her waist.

They kissed—long and deep, like lovers lost in the rush of first love.

And just like that, I couldn't tell anymore.

Was it "Rose" that made him lose control?

Or had he truly fallen for Chloe?

All I knew was, he no longer loved me.

Not me—Wendy.

I was already dead, but somehow, my heart still hurt like hell.

Chloe's cheeks flushed as she slipped shyly into the fitting room.

Mickey stood still for a while, then pulled out his phone and dialed William.

"Find out where Wendy is," he said flatly. "The wedding's tomorrow. Is she still planning to try on the dress or not?"

William's voice came through, "Mr. O'Brien… Wendy is dead. She won't be attending the wedding."

Mickey's eyes turned cold. "What the... You're still playing along with her act? Tell Wendy—if she wants to throw a tantrum, fine, but there's a limit. I didn't even blame her for leaving Chloe in the mountains. But she shouldn't push it too far. If she keeps this up, she can forget about the wedding."

A voice suddenly cut through the line—hoarse, shaking with fury. "Mickey! Do you even have a heart? Wendy is dead. She's really dead!"

My breath caught.

It was my mother's voice.

She had come back from the countryside?

Mickey froze. His expression twisted.

"Miranda… I know you favor Wendy, but this—this is too much. You're really going to lie to me for her? Do you even realize what she did? She almost got Chloe killed. Chloe's your daughter too. But you're so damn biased."

He was defending Chloe now, because he loved her. Of course, he would take her side in everything.

My mother closed her eyes. Whatever words she'd prepared melted away.

Her chest ached, tight with grief and helplessness. She could hardly breathe. She resented the injustice. She resented it on behalf of her adopted daughter, me.

Her voice came out low and fierce, each word weighed down by sorrow. "Mickey, listen to me. Wendy is really gone. Whether you believe it or not is your choice. Go ahead with your wedding tomorrow. Marry Chloe."

Mickey's brows knotted tightly, but the line had already gone dead.

He stared at Chloe standing nearby, and the chaos in his chest began to settle.

How could Wendy possibly be dead?

If Chloe could escape from the cabin, then Wendy—the one behind it all—surely could too.

He'd overthought it. Almost let himself get fooled.

Wendy. She really was something. To even rope in William for this elaborate performance.

Well then. Tomorrow's wedding would be the perfect time to teach her a lesson.

…

On the day of the ceremony, Mickey deliberately arrived late.

He wanted to see it—Wendy, flustered and panicked, the lies crumbling. She needed to understand—some lies couldn't be taken back.

But when he stepped into the hall, all he saw were guests. No bride.

His tailored black suit fit him like a second skin, but beneath it, his heart lurched.

Whispers floated around the venue as he turned to look at the empty stage.

A flicker of unease crept in.

He called his mother. No answer.

Call after call. Finally, she picked up.

Before he could say anything, her voice rasped across the line. "Mickey. You still have the nerve to call me? You killed Wendy—do you even realize that?"

The breath left him. His whole body sagged with frustration.

"Mom… why are you joining in on this, too? Today's supposed to be Wendy and my wedding. Why is everyone late?"

"Wedding?" Mickey's mother let out a bitter laugh. She hadn't slept all night. Now, she was nearly faint with anger.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and said, "We're all at Miranda's house. Wendy is here, too. Come over."

Mickey's face darkened. He gave a few brief apologies to the guests, then left with Chloe.

I followed quietly behind, watching the tension in his furrowed brow. I knew what he was thinking. He blamed me.

The car flew down the road. Chloe let out a frightened cry, but Mickey didn't even flinch.

When they arrived at my parents' home, he got out and strode in without hesitation, face cold and sharp.

"Wendy, how long do you plan to keep this up?"

But the moment the words left his mouth, his expression froze.

His voice, raised and impatient, had drawn the attention of everyone in the foyer.