Vincent didn’t get home until ten that night, dragging his suitcase behind him.

Courtney followed close behind, carrying a cake box like a trophy.

She opened it with a bright, innocent smile. “Roxanne, don’t stay mad. Vincent remembered today’s your birthday. See? He ordered you a cake.” 

Roxanne’s eyes fell on the box.

It was cherry mousse—her favorite.

But the once elegant dessert was now a collapsed mess, the sides caved in, the top slanted, almost unrecognizable.

“Oh no! I’m such a klutz!” Courtney gasped, her tone laced with fake concern. She glanced around with wide eyes and added, “It’s too late now—all the bakeries are closed. Roxanne, would you mind making do with this one?”

Roxanne said nothing. She simply stared at Courtney with a cold, unreadable expression.

Vincent rubbed his nose awkwardly. “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.”

He pulled out a small jewelry box from his pocket.

“Here, I got you something.” Inside was a diamond bracelet. It sparkled beautifully. 

“Do you like it?” he asked.

Roxanne didn’t smile. Because the necklace from the same collection—worth ten times more—was glinting proudly around Courtney’s neck.

Oblivious, Vincent started fastening the bracelet around her wrist. “Amethyst breaks too easily. I got you a better one. Diamond.”

He didn’t even glance at her face.

“Oh, since Courtney’s just back in town, she hasn’t found a place yet, so I told her she could stay here for a few days.”

“Actually,” he added, “give her the master bedroom. Her allergies get bad if the room’s not cleaned properly. The guest room won’t work for her.”

Of course. He didn’t even remember Roxanne had asthma.

She yanked her hand back. “I don’t care if you want to give her your spot. I’m not moving from my room.”

Vincent’s expression turned stormy. “You know I can’t sleep in other room.”

“Oh, that sounds like a you problem,” Roxanne said nonchalantly. 

He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “You serious? You’re fine with me and Courtney sharing a room?”

Even though she’d already decided to let him go, those words still stung.

She forced her voice to stay calm. “Do what you want.”

Apparently, that wasn’t the reaction he expected. His jaw tightened in frustration.

Courtney tugged at his sleeve gently, her voice soft and shaky. “It’s okay, Vincent. I can just take the guest room. I’ll be fine.”

“No,” his voice sharp. “You’ll stay with me in the second bedroom.”

Vincent grabbed her hand, shouldered past Roxanne and headed toward the spare room.

As he walked away, he tossed a cold line over his shoulder. “You pushed me to this, Roxanne.”

She stood there, still and quiet, watching him walk away.

She counted.

Twenty steps.

That’s how long it took for Vincent to walk away and slam the bedroom door.

And when he did, something in her finally snapped loose.

There was no more pain. Just disgust.

Later that night, she woke up groggy and thirsty. On her way to the kitchen, she caught voices drifting from the other bedroom.

Courtney’s voice, sharp and whiny: “Why don’t we just send her to Possum Hollow? Let the locals knock the attitude out of her. She’s rude, feeling entitled—I can’t stand her.”

“No,” Vincent shot back without a beat of hesitation.

Courtney sniffled dramatically. “What’s going on with you, Vincent? First, you deleted my post after she commented on it. Then you buy her gifts, a birthday cake. Don’t tell me you’re falling for her?”

Roxanne froze, holding her breath.

“Of course not,” Vincent’s voice came after a pause, low and irritated, “I’m just trying to avoid pushing her too far. If she changes her mind about the engagement, the whole plan goes up in smoke. Your plan.”

Courtney clung to his arm, her tears spilling over. “Does that mean you’re agree to sending her to Possum Hollow after all?”

“I hate her, Vincent,’ Courtney whined, clinging to his arm. “She stole my boyfriend. And I want her to suffer—like really suffer—so I can finally feel better.”

Vincent hesitated. For a moment, silence stretched thin. Then, with a sigh, he gave in. “Fine. Stop crying. We’ll do it your way.”

From the shadows, Roxanne’s lips curled into a bitter smile. Whatever warmth she had left inside her felt like it froze over completely.

***

The next morning, Roxanne stepped out of her bedroom and Vincent greeted her with a cheery grin.

“Roxy! Courtney wants to visit her hometown today. Thought you might want to tag along.”

“Okay,” she said, too quickly.

She’d never even heard of Possum Hollow before last night, yet the name stirred something oddly familiar inside her. She decided to play along—and find out what secrets that town might be hiding.

Vincent quietly exhaled in relief. Maybe she was just acting out yesterday, he thought. Maybe things would settle down.

It was a long, bumpy ride. Several hours later, they arrived in Possum Hollow. The small town felt foreign and underwhelming—until Roxanne saw Courtney’s house.

The second she stepped inside, a wave of déjà vu hit her so hard it split her head with pain.

“Achoo!” Courtney sneezed violently a few times, clinging to Vincent. “I don’t feel good… Can you take me to a doctor?”

“Roxy, just go on in. I’ll be back as soon as I take Courtney to the clinic.”

Without another glance, he swept Courtney into his arms and hurried away, never noticing how pale Roxanne had gone.

Clutching her chest, Roxanne struggled to breathe. The asthma attack came fast and hard, but she managed to pull out her emergency inhaler just in time. She leaned against the doorway, gasping.

It took her a while to recover.

She was lucky she always came prepared—otherwise, she might’ve died right there.

Then came the voices.

“Well, well… So this is the girl Courtney's been going on about. Not bad—cute face. Kinda fragile-looking, though. Think she’ll sell? good”

“Who cares? Look at that body. Damn, those curves... If she doesn’t sell, I’m keeping her for myself.”

The filth in their voices made Roxanne’s skin crawl.

She spun around and saw two sleazy-looking men grinning at her, eyes glinting with something vile. Her heart jumped into her throat. With no time to think, she turned and bolted inside, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

Dust flew up around her as she dug out her phone and frantically dialed Vincent.

He answered immediately.

“Vincent, please come back! Courtney sent traffickers after me—they’re trying to abduct me!”

Before he could speak, Courtney’s voice broke through on the other end, trembling with fake sobs.

“Roxanne, how could you say that? I know you don’t like me, but accusing me of something like this? That’s over the line.”

Vincent’s tone turned sharp. “Courtney invited you here out of kindness. And this is how you thank her? You seriously need a wake-up call.”

Then he hung up—cutting off Roxanne’s only lifeline.

She stared at her phone, stunned. This town was way too isolated. By the time the cops arrived—if they ever did—it’d be too late.

Panic clawed at her throat. She turned and bolted up the stairs, heart pounding. If it came down to it, she would rather die than end up in a human trafficking ring.

From the third-floor window, she glanced down—just as the men started pounding on the door.

“Go on, keep running, little rabbit. We like a chase,” one of them sneered. “Come quietly, sweetheart. It'll be easier that way.”

Cornered, Roxanne steeled herself. She gripped the edge of the window, preparing to jump.

And then—everything shook.

The house collapsed beneath her with a deafening roar. She was thrown into the air, pain ripping through her body as she hit the ground.

She was so angry, she had to die without getting a chance to take revenge.

When Roxanne woke, she was lying in a hospital bed.

From the hallway, she heard Courtney’s voice, tight with anger.

“Why did you go back for her? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her?”

Vincent’s reply was swift. “Calm down, Courtney. That’s not what this is. I just didn’t want a body on our hands.”

Courtney sniffled. “Fine. I’ll believe you—this time. But you owe me.”

She held up her bruised arm. “If you hadn’t insisted on turning back, I wouldn’t be hurt.”

“Okay, I’ll make it up for you. Whatever you want. Just name it.”

Her eyes lit up with a cunning gleam. “Give me that ‘My Blue’ account.”

Vincent didn’t even blink. “Sure.”

Roxanne felt a dull ache in her chest—an ache she hated herself for feeling.

That account. My Blue. She’d created it for Vincent, spent years filling it with 382 pieces of art. Seven years of her life, all for him.

And just like that, he gave it away.

Didn’t even bother to ask.

Hearing the door creak open, Roxanne quickly shut her eyes and pretended to stir awake.

“Roxy! You’re up!” Vincent rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “God, I was so scared. Thank God you’re okay.”

She pushed him away gently, a cold smile curling on her lips. “You’re the one who left me there, Vincent. You sent me straight into danger.”

Vincent looked shaken—guilty, but Courtney jumped in fast.

“Don’t blame him, Roxanne. It was my idea to invite you to Possum Hollow. If you want to be mad, be mad at me.”

Roxanne laughed, cold and sharp. “Oh, you think I’m not mad at you? Don’t worry—you’ll get your turn after I’m done with Vincent. I’m definitely not letting that slide. I’m pressing charges for those traffickers you send.”

Courtney clutched her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Why do you keep saying that? I just got back from overseas— how could I possibly know anything about traffickers?”

Vincent added quickly, “It can’t be Courtney. She’s not that kind of person.”

“Well, I already called the cops,” Roxanne said calmly. “She can explain herself to them.”

Vincent scowled. “You called the police? You turn this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. This is ridiculous!”

Courtney’s eyes flickered with cold calculation, but she masked it quickly.

“If that makes you feel safe, then fine. Well, I haven’t seen you eating. You must be starving. I’ll have food sent up here.”

Not long after, the door opened. A masked delivery guy stepped in, holding a bag of food.

“Hi, your order’s here.”

Vincent reached for the bag—only to be shoved aside.

Before anyone could react, the man pulled a knife from the bag and lunged straight at Courtney.

“Courtney, look out!”

Vincent threw himself in front of her, kicking at the attacker.

But the man didn’t even glance at them. He spun around and plunged toward Roxanne.

She caught the blade with both hands, blood dripping as she screamed, “Vincent! Help me!”

He moved to go—but Courtney collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Vincent, please don’t leave me. I’m scared…”

He hesitated.

And in that split second, the knife drove deep into Roxanne’s side. 

She stared at him, wide-eyed and utterly shattered. Even now—bleeding, on the edge of death—she still wasn’t enough. Not compared to Courtney’s fear.

So this is what love looked like, huh? The difference between loving and not loving someone really was that simple. That cruel.

The man raised the knife again, but just then, security rushed in. Two guards tackled him to the ground, wrestling the blade from his hand.

A nurse hurried in, pressing gauze to Roxanne’s side, trying to stop the bleeding as she barked orders into her headset.

Vincent stood frozen. Still. The image of Roxanne’s eyes—dark with heartbreak, not pain—burned into his mind.

That look.

That look unnerved him.

He stayed with Courtney long enough to calm her down, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shirt. Then, when she was settled, he returned to Roxanne’s hospital room.

She lay there, pale and weak, staring off at nothing, like she didn’t even notice he’d walked in.

Guilt clawed at his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I swear, that’s the last time I’ll ever let you get hurt. I’ll never leave you again.”

Roxanne turned her head slightly. Her voice was soft, even. “Okay.”

Vincent hesitated. That was it? No questions? No tears?

She didn’t yell. Didn’t throw anything. She wasn’t clinging or begging.

That wasn’t like her.

Something felt off. Something he couldn’t name.

“Roxy… do you still love me?” he asked, his voice low, uncertain.

She looked him right in the eye. Calm. Composed. “I told you—I’d never marry someone I didn’t love.”

That one sentence sent a jolt through him. But then he remembered—seven days from now was their wedding.

Maybe she was just shaken. Maybe it was the blood loss.

Relief flickered in his chest. He smiled, trying to convince himself things would be okay. “Just rest up, alright? Seven days from now, you’ll walk down that aisle as the most beautiful bride anyone's ever seen.”

Roxanne nodded.

Yeah, she’d rest.

But not for him.

She was healing up so she could leave him behind—once and for all.