"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.