Serena stood at the foot of the stairs in a simple white dress, so fragile it hurt to look at her.

When her eyes found me, she smiled sweetly. "You must be Freya Seymour. I'm Serena Jarman. Nice to meet you."

I didn't answer. I just stared.

Alfred Seymour emerged from the living room. At the sight of her, his expression melted in a way I rarely saw. "Rena, you must be exhausted. Let Freya show you to your room."

"Thank you, Mr. Seymour," Serena said demurely.

Alfred added, "Use Freya's room. It gets the best light and will be perfect for your recovery."

I turned to him. "My room?"

"Starting today, that's Rena's room. You'll move to the third floor. There's a vacant one up there."

I gave a mirthless laugh. "I'll pass."

I went upstairs and started packing. Half an hour later, I came down, suitcase in tow.

Alfred saw it and frowned. "Where do you think you're going?"

Without looking back, I said, "I'm leaving. I'm not a Seymour anymore. There's no reason for me to stay here."

"Freya! The wedding's in two weeks. Don't be absurd!"

"I know." I pulled the door open. "I'll show up on time in two weeks and keep my end of the deal."

I slammed the door behind me and drove off from the Seymour residence. My destination was the most luxurious hotel in Belcaster.

"I want your most expensive suite," I told the receptionist.

"How many nights?"

"Two weeks."

I paid with the Seymours' secondary card, which had a 30 million dollar limit and had been barely touched until now. Today, I intended to burn through it.

After checking into the suite, I unleashed a spree of revenge spending.

I reached out to the consultant from the world's top wedding-dress label and ordered three gowns, all over a million a piece. Then came ten sets of jewelry and two limited-edition watches.

By nightfall, I had blown nearly 25 million dollars.

Alfred called not long after.

"Freya! Are you insane? You burned through nearly 30 million dollars in a single day!"

I stretched out on the hotel's leather couch. "What's the problem? I'm marrying into a family far away. I need to spend a little to look the part."

"You need that much just to look the part?"

I sipped my champagne. "Of course. I'm marrying the Gaskell heir. Do you expect me to show up looking cheap? Besides, they're putting three billion dollars on the table. Tens of millions doesn't even register."

"You…"

Alfred choked on his fury, unable to speak.

I laughed. "Dad—no, I should say Mr. Seymour. Didn't we already cut ties? Technically, I shouldn't even be spending your money. Relax. Once the funds land, you'll be the first I pay back."

I hung up and went straight back to my spending spree. Before the marriage funds landed, I'd bleed the Seymours' cash flow dry.

Once those three billion dollars hit my account, Alfred would have to beg if he wanted even a crumb back. We'd see if he still dared to stand with Rowena and Serena then.

I was about to launch into the final round of indulgence when my phone buzzed. Daniel's name lit up the screen.

"You've not gone to the office for three days. What's going on?"

I stared at the words. My pulse spiked, but I smothered it at once.

He didn't care about me. He only cared when I strayed from his script. That was all.

I texted back, "Family stuff. I'll be fine in a few days."

He never replied.

…

The next morning, just as I was heading out for another round of shopping, the hotel receptionist stopped me.

"Ms. Seymour, I'm sorry, but the card you've been using has been frozen. We can't process any more payments for your stay."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll need to settle the bill immediately, or…" He hesitated. "We'll have to ask you to leave the hotel."

An hour later, I was outside, suitcase in hand—penniless and homeless. I couldn't bring myself to sell the luxury pieces I'd bought. They were meant for the wedding.

For a moment, I thought of calling a friend. But then I remembered that I didn't have any.

No one had ever cared for me. They'd only cared for the Seymour name. And now that I'd been cast out, who would even bother with me?

Night pressed in as I dragged my suitcase through the streets.

At last, I found a park bench and sank onto it. The silence was heavy, disturbed only by the low hiss of traffic far off.

I hugged my knees, counting the days. Twelve left until the wedding. I couldn't survive on the streets that long. As I sat brooding, a group of drunks lurched into the park.

One of them staggered closer, reeking of cheap alcohol. "Hey, gorgeous. All alone?"

I shot upright, muscles taut. "Stay back."

"Don't be like that." He reached for me. "Why don't you have a drink with us?"

I stepped back, only to bump into the bench.

Just then, a low voice cut through the night. "She's not alone."

I turned and saw Daniel step out of the shadows, his expression so dark it was almost frightening. The weight of his presence sent the drunks slinking away.

He stopped in front of me, his gaze flicking from my suitcase to the bench.

"Homeless, and still you won't turn to me?"

Daniel drove me back to Falkner Estate in North Belcaster.

I sat in the passenger seat, watching neon streaking past the window. I felt hollow inside.

"We're here," Daniel said.

After parking the car, he came around to open my door.

Why did he always do this? He didn't love me, but he wanted me in his bed and treated me with such gentleness.

My nose prickled as I climbed out, suitcase trailing behind. The house was too familiar, every corner steeped in memories of when we couldn't keep our hands off each other.

Daniel reached for my suitcase, intending to take it to the room that was mine.

"No, it's fine," I said, moving toward the guest room. "I'm only here for a few days. The guest room will do."

He stopped mid-step. "You can stay as long as you want."

I set my suitcase in the guest room and closed the door.

Perched on the bed's edge, I stared at my phone. 12 more days, and I'd leave Belcaster, the city I'd grown up in, for good.

…

The next morning, I went downstairs to find Daniel already having breakfast in the dining room. He looked up and gestured to the seat across from him.

A maid brought milk and toast as soon as I sat.

"Daniel," I said.

He glanced up, eyes calm behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

"Did you know Serena is Rowena's daughter?"

"I only learned yesterday," he answered evenly, without the faintest flicker of guilt.

I let out a bitter laugh. "What is Serena to you?"

Daniel set his coffee down. "A high school classmate. She once took a knife for me and saved my life. She's been recovering in Norvane ever since."

"Really? Just a classmate? The one who saved your life? That's all?"

His brow tightened. "Freya, I don't want you targeting her just because she's moved into the Seymour residence."

I laughed, bitterness edging my voice. "Is that a warning?"

His tone cut like ice. "It's a reminder. Rena's not well. She can't take any strain."

I simply nodded.

His blunt defense of her was more than I'd expected. What else was there to ask?

"I understand," I said finally, standing. "I'm going upstairs."

I spent the whole day in the guest room. The maids brought lunch and dinner up, and I didn't go downstairs.

That night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. This was usually when Daniel would push the door open and pin me beneath him without a word. He'd grip my waist and call me "princess".

But tonight, the hallway stayed quiet.

Of course, Serena was back at his side. Why would he think of me now?

…

The next day fell on the weekend, so Daniel didn't go to the office.

At around 10:00 am, he knocked on my door. "Freya, there's a gathering tonight. Come with me."

I opened the door to find he had already changed into a black suit.

"What kind of gathering?"

"A gathering with our circle."

I really didn't want to be alone in this house full of memories, so I nodded.

…

At 7:00 pm, Daniel's car pulled up outside a private club.

I followed him in and found the place warmly decorated, with flowers and ribbons everywhere. It was nothing like the business-circle gatherings I'd been to before.

Before I could ask, a familiar voice rang out. "Danny! You finally made it!"

Serena glided over in a white evening gown, light as a butterfly. When she saw me, her expression froze for a beat, then she lit up with a sweet smile.

"Freya, you're here too! That's wonderful!"

I glanced around and spotted a banner that read, "Welcome back, Serena."

So this was what Daniel had brought me to—a party to celebrate her return to the country.

I turned to leave, but Serena stepped in front of me. She looked at me with concern.

"Freya, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well? I heard you moved out of the house. Was it because of me? I'm so sorry. I didn't know Mr. Seymour would put me in your room."

Her voice was soft and gentle, yet loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. A few guests looked over at me with a hint of curiosity.

"It's fine. It's just a room," I said.

Serena's eyes filled with tears. "But Mr. Seymour said you'd even severed ties with him. It's all because of me. If I hadn't come back—"

"Serena," I cut her off. "Whatever happened between Alfred and me has nothing to do with you. You're an outsider."

Her tears spilled over, and she looked up at Daniel, tearful and fragile.

He came over, shot me a warning glance, then said gently to her, "Don't cry. Your eyes will puff up."

Then he took out a handkerchief and gently wiped her tears.

She broke into a small, tearful laugh. "You're so sweet to me, Danny."

I stood there watching the cozy little scene, my chest aching like it was sitting in an ice bath.

I turned for the drinks table, picked up a glass of champagne, and downed half in one go.

It wasn't until the party really got underway that I realized how attentive Daniel was to Serena.

He pulled out her chair and blew on the hot toasts for her. When her strap slipped, he set it back in place with a light touch on her shoulder.

None of that was ever for me. In the two years I'd been with Daniel, he never once did those things for me of his own accord.

I used to think that was simply his nature—cool, controlled, above such small courtesies. But it wasn't. He just wouldn't do them for me.

In ten days, Belcaster would be behind me. And with it, any chance of him treating me that way.

I held my glass of champagne, listening as Serena laughed softly and chatted with the other guests.

She spoke about recuperating in Norvane and how she'd missed Belcaster—every line polished, graceful, perfectly right.

Beside me, a woman whispered, "Rena's such a lovely young woman. With Daniel doting on her like that, the two of them are bound to end up together."

My grip tightened on the glass stem.

The host bounded up to lift the mood. "Alright, everybody, game time! We'll do a this-or-that round!"

As the big screen flared on, the host explained the rules. "Two photos will appear on the screen, and you pick the one you prefer. Mr. Falkner, since you're the guest of honor tonight, you're up first!"

First up was a pair of red wines. Without the slightest hesitation, Daniel chose the one on the left—the lower-alcohol one.

"Rena can't drink anything too strong," he explained.

The room whooped.

Next came two bouquets—roses and lilies.

Daniel picked the lilies. "Rena prefers white flowers."

The third pair showed two getaway spots—Maravea and Veylund.

"Veylund. Rena needs fresh air to recuperate," he said.

Every pick he made was about Serena.

I watched Daniel on stage and thought about our two years together. He never asked what I liked. He never remembered what I loved to eat or where I loved to go.

The host's voice rang out, brimming with excitement. "And now, the final round! This one's a little special—two beautiful ladies!"

The big screen lit with two photos.

On the left was Serena, in a white dress. She was smiling softly in a garden, looking as pure as an angel. On the right was a photo of me, in a red evening dress at a party, my gaze bold and blazing.

The room went quiet.

All eyes turned to Daniel. He stood on stage, staring at the screen, saying nothing for a few seconds.

Those seconds felt like centuries to me. I knew he'd choose Serena. Still, I clung to one last, fragile hope that he might pick me, even if it was just for show, or out of pity.

Daniel's voice came over the microphone. "I choose… Rena."

The room erupted in loud applause and good-natured jeers. I set my champagne down, turned on my heel, and bolted out of the private room.

In the restroom, I faced the mirror and drew deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I shouldn't have expected anything from the start.

Once I'd pulled myself together, I headed back out, ready to return to the private room.

The hallway was dim, shadows pooling in the corners. I had just turned the corner when a few drunk men blocked my way.

One of them staggered closer, reeking of liquor. "Hey, pretty thing. All alone? How about a drink with us?"

I stepped back. "Move."

Another reached for me. "Don't be so cold. We just wanna get to know you."

I kept backing up and, out of the corner of my eye, caught sight of Daniel standing in the doorway of the private room. He was talking to a guest.

I shot him a pleading look.

Daniel saw me. His expression darkened, and he made his way toward me.

Just then, a cry of pain rang out from inside the room. "Ouch! My foot…"

Daniel spun around to find Serena clinging to a chair, her face white as a sheet.

He hurried to her. "What happened?"

With tears gathering in her eyes, she looked heartbreakingly delicate. "I think I twisted my ankle."

Daniel crouched at once to check her ankle, forgetting I was there in the hallway.

Serena whispered something to him, and without even looking back, he said, "Don't worry about her. She'll handle it herself."

Right then, something in me died.

I snatched a bottle of red wine from the table beside me and smashed it against the wall. With a bang, shards flew, and the drunk men were startled.

I raised the broken bottle, its jagged mouth aimed at them. "Get lost!"

They saw the menace in my eyes and slunk off at once.

Shards dug into my palm, blood pattering onto the floor. I stared at the gash, felt the sharp burn, and told myself it was nothing.

…

After the party, I stood alone at the club entrance, waiting for a ride.

Daniel came out, guiding Serena forward at a slow pace. She spotted me and came over.

"Freya, I'm really sorry about earlier. I suddenly twisted my ankle. That's why Danny couldn't be there for you. But it looks like you handled it well."

Her gaze dropped to my injured hand, smugness flickering in her eyes.

I let out a cold laugh. "Yeah. I've always been good at handling things on my own."

Serena's smile was all sugar. "That's good. Honestly, I worried a little when Danny brought you here tonight. After all, you two…"

"What?"

She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't actually think Danny has any special feelings for you, do you? Freya, he only pities you. You're homeless now, and he's letting you stay out of kindness. That's all."

"Is that so?"

A flicker of malice showed in her eyes. "Of course. You saw the game tonight. Danny's heart has room for only me. He's been that way since high school and will never change."

Just then, a black sedan veered out of control, hurtling straight at us.

Daniel reacted instantly, lunging forward to pull Serena into his arms and shielding her. The car plowed into me, slamming me to the ground.