On the day I tried on my wedding dress, a stranger burst into the VIP fitting room and slashed me with a knife.

She tore my dress to shreds, her face twisted with rage. "A gold-digger like you doesn't deserve a dress this expensive!"

The blade, soaked in sulfuric acid, pierced my abdomen, and I collapsed in agony.

She grabbed my hair and slapped me, snarling, "Clarence promised to marry me! You're nothing but a homewrecker!"

Blood stained my gown as the truth hit me. My boyfriend of seven years had been cheating on me.

"Keep staring, huh? My man runs this city. I could kill you, and no one would touch me!" she taunted, smug as hell.

With bloodied hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother. "Chris, come get me from the bridal shop. And tell the Thompsons the engagement is off."

...

I hung up the phone, pain searing through me like wildfire. My mind felt thicker than the blood pooling around me, the only sound my pounding heartbeat.

The wound in my abdomen burned, the flesh blackened and corroded by acid, the stench of charred skin choking the air. Every breath tore the wound wider, sending fresh waves of torment through my body.

My trembling fingers clung weakly to the dress rack for support, while Vanessa White loomed over me, her eyes glinting with malice.

"What, calling for backup?" she sneered, her voice sharp with mockery.

The gathering crowd around us snickered, their faces dripping with judgment. Camera flashes blinded me, shutters clicking like vultures circling. Whispers cut through the air, each word a stab to my heart.

"Caught red-handed as the side chick, huh?"

"That fancy dress? Bet she earned it on her back."

Vanessa, teetering on high heels, kicked me to the floor. "You think you are hot shit? Besides your sugar daddy, who is gonna come for you?"

She seized my dress and ripped it, the blood-soaked fabric scattering like confetti. "Wearing my dress and stealing my man? Let's show everyone what a slut you are! I am Clarence's wife. You're just a toy he discarded. You think you can take my place?"

I snapped my head up, pain lancing through my chest.

Clarence Thompson and I had been together for seven years. He'd spoiled me, going out of his way to make me feel cherished. He'd drive thirty minutes after work to buy my favorite cupcakes. He'd planned ninety-nine wedding proposals to give me a fairy-tale moment.

But now, his so-called wife stabbed me and called me a homewrecker. All his love and effort were a lie.

The crowd's laughter rang in my ears, but I met Vanessa's gaze defiantly, my voice cold as ice. "I'm not some cheap fling. My name is Kimberly Lopez, of the Lopez Group."

The room erupted in mocking laughter, and even Vanessa cackled, "The Lopez Group? Since when does the world's richest family have trash like you?"

The acid gnawed at my flesh, hissing and smoking. The pain and stench made me wince.

Before I could respond, she snarled, "How dare you look at me like that?"

She aimed a vicious kick at my abdomen, right where the knife had struck. The blinding pain caused me to curl up on the floor, and cold sweat soaked my tattered dress.

Not done, she grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor. "Not happy? I'm his legal wife. Beating you to death would be too kind."

I gave a bitter smile, coughing up blood.

All these years, I'd been living in Clarence's web of lies. His so-called business trips were to get a marriage license with another woman. His wedding plans were never meant for me.

Our relationship was a dead end.

"I need a hospital," I rasped, prying her hand off. "If anything happens to me today, Clarence will be the first one to fall. To save himself, he'll throw you under the bus!"

Vanessa laughed, amused by the absurdity of my threat. "You think you're somebody? Think I'd be scared? Clarence would never hurt me over a toy like you!"

She raised the knife again, her eyes wild with rage, but I had no strength left to dodge.

Just then, tires screeched outside. My brother, Chris Lopez, had arrived.

I forced my eyes open, clutching my bleeding abdomen, and struggled to my feet. Staring Vanessa down, I enunciated, "I told you, my name is Kimberly Lopez. Ready to pay for this?"

Her panicked expression was almost worth the pain. Her attack and Clarence's betrayal would not be forgiven. I'd make them answer for it.

The car door flew open, and a familiar figure appeared.

But I couldn't hold on anymore. The acid's bite felt like ants devouring me from the inside, my vision blurring. My hands, sticky with blood, pressed against my abdomen, the dark red staining my dress like a wilted rose.

"Brother, help!" I cried out with every ounce of strength I had left.

Chris sprinted toward me, and Vanessa's gaze flicked to him. She sneered, "Your brother or your lover? This is Thompson territory, and I'm untouchable here."

Chris ignored her, rushing to my side and scooping me up gently. His hands trembled with rage, though his touch was steady.

"I'm Chris Lopez! Who the hell hurt my sister?" His voice dripped with menace, his icy gaze sweeping the room.

The crowd's jeers stopped instantly, the bridal shop now a tomb except for my stifled groans.

Vanessa froze, then puffed up her chest. "I did, so what? My husband is Clarence Thompson. Touch me, and he'll wipe out your whole family!"

I coughed, blood splattering Chris's shirt, stark against the white. I asked weakly, "You didn't bring guards?"

The pain was unbearable, my consciousness slipping, but I continued, "Her knife had acid. I can't hold on."

Chris's voice softened, but the edge remained. "I was nearby, closing a deal without security. Dad is on his way with backup. He'll be here within ten minutes."

His eyes locked on my wound, murder in his gaze. "Who the hell dares to mess with the Lopez heiress?"

He stepped toward Vanessa. "Clarence Thompson, huh? You're his wife?"

"Damn right!" she shot back, whipping out her phone with a smug grin. "You think you can throw his name around? I'm calling him to break your legs."

I grabbed Chris's sleeve and shook my head, eager to see what Clarence would choose, his mistress or interests.

"Hospital first," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Vanessa blocked our way, cooing into the phone, "Babe, some guy named Chris Lopez says I bullied his sister and wants to kill me. Come save me!"

Clarence's voice crackled through. "Who has got the guts to mess with you? Where are you?"

"At the bridal shop you opened for me," Vanessa replied, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He says he'll make the Thompsons pay."

Clarence paused. "Who? Chris Lopez?"

"Yes." Vanessa raised her chin. "He is with Kimberly, and he says..."

"No way!" Clarence's voice spiked with disbelief. "You fought with Chris? You sure it's him?"

I gave a bitter smile, the pain in my gut dwarfed by the ache in my heart. He didn't mention a word about me. He only feared Chris's power.

Our relationship was nothing but a joke. He'd even ignore my texts.

My body went limp, nearly slipping from Chris's arms. He tightened his grip, roaring into the phone, "She stabbed my sister, and you're saying it's a mistake? Get your ass over here!"

Vanessa hung up with a smirk. "Some nobody trying to scam the Thompsons? Clarence doesn't even know you."

She waved a hand, summoning a dozen goons with steel pipes. "Even if you're some distant Lopez members, you think you can take us on?"

Chris set me down and turned to face them, but I staggered to my feet, grabbing a pair of fabric shears from a nearby table. "Anyone coming closer is done!"

I pointed the scissors at Vanessa, blood dripping from my hands, but I no longer felt the pain. My heart pounded in my chest, and my eyes blazed with hatred. "You want me dead? I'm taking you with me!"

I lunged, driving the scissors toward her abdomen. Vanessa's scream echoed through the shop like a banshee's wail.

Vanessa's scream was ear-piercing. Blood gushed through her fingers, staining her white dress.

"Bitch! You stabbed me?" she shrieked, her hair a tangled mess. "Get them! Kill these bastards!"

I raised the scissors to strike again, but a goon kicked me hard, sending me crashing into the dress rack. The impact tore my wound open, and I nearly blacked out from the pain.

Chris threw himself over me, shielding me as another goon's knife slashed down, cutting deep into his arm. Blood sprayed, soaking his shirt.

"Chris!" I screamed.

Vanessa pointed at us, yelling, "Shut them up! Cut them into pieces! My husband is Clarence Thompson! Whatever happens, I've got this!"

The goons closed in, their blades glinting. Chris stood firm, his voice shaking with fury. "The Thompsons, huh? Now this is war!"

Another knife struck, slicing into his abdomen. He grunted, blood spilling onto me, hot and metallic. A goon swung a chair, smashing it over his head.

Chris collapsed onto me, his weight heavy. His blood blurred my vision, my cries mixing with the goons' shouts.

"Chris! Wake up!" I cried.

A goon kicked me in the back, and I hit the floor beside Chris, his blood smearing my face.

When I came to, I was trapped in a glass enclosure on a rooftop. The summer sun blazed, turning the space into an oven.

My skin burned, sweat and blood evaporating into a crusty layer. My limbs were bound with rope, and a rag was stuffed in my mouth, silencing my cries.

"Awake, huh?" Vanessa loomed over me, smirking. "Back in the day, sluts like you got drowned in cages. Too bad I didn't finish you off."

I made muffled noises, the rag soaked with blood. From the corner of my eye, I saw Chris lying nearby, his blood baked into a dark stain on the ground.

"Chris!" I tried to scream, tears evaporating as soon as they fell.

"Quit whining," Vanessa said, grinning. "Clarence called me. He's coming to settle the score."

She crouched down, looking at me like I was trash. "What will he do when he learns you hurt me? Bet he'll kill you to make me happy."

She waved to her goons, who dragged in buckets of glowing charcoal. "Let me warm you up a bit, so you won't be cold bodies."

The heat in the glass box skyrocketed, my hair singeing, my lungs choking on the fumes. I vomited blood, but the rag forced it back down, burning my throat. I thrashed, but the ropes cut deeper, drawing blood that dried instantly on my skin.

Just then, my phone rang. Clarence's name lit up the screen.

I glared, writhing to reach it. With my hands tied, I swiped the screen with my face, finally hitting the answer button.

"What's with the drama?" he sulked. "I told you I'd handle the wedding plans."

I wanted to scream that I was done with him, that he could save me now, and we could part ways cleanly. But the rag choked my words into garbled sounds.

Vanessa noticed, her face twisting. "Who are you talking to?"

She lunged for the phone, but I pressed it to my chest, refusing to let go. The charcoal's heat rolled over me, my body dehydrating and my eyelids heavy.

Only rage kept me going. "Clarence, you'd better pray Chris and I make it, or you are going down with Vanessa!"