It wasn’t until Rafael slammed the door and left that Helena stumbled into the bathroom, desperately forcing herself to vomit.
She lifted her head, staring at her swollen, bruised face in the mirror.
A laugh escaped her lips—soft at first, then louder. But as the laughter continued, her tears began to fall.
"Rafael... the heart beating in your chest... belongs to me."
—
That night, Helena had a dream.
In it, she saw the past—the days when they were in love.
Rafael had once been so thoughtful, so gentle.
He used to prepare her breakfast the night before, worried she wouldn’t like the food at the university cafeteria.
He would warm a bottle of milk in his arms and bring it to her classroom door.
He even sat through lectures with her in the winter, just to be her human heater.
Even the simple act of sharing street food together had felt like pure happiness.
When Helena woke up, for a brief moment, she thought she was back in that time—five years ago.
But the relentless beeping of her alarm pulled her back to reality.
She swallowed two cold medicine pills, her mind still foggy, then got up to prepare breakfast.
Just as she was about to start cooking, her phone rang.
Without a second thought, she answered the call.
"Miss Walsh, you scheduled an appointment with our studio for a memorial portrait. Are you available to come in today?"
She froze for a moment, then weakly replied, "Yes. I'll be there this afternoon."
She had made this appointment long ago.
The battlefield had no mercy—she didn’t know if she’d make it back alive.
It was better to be prepared.
After setting the breakfast on the table, Helena turned to go back to her room.
Rafael never let her eat at the table—she was only allowed to eat the leftovers.
But just as she was about to leave, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Seated at the table, Kaylee's arms was wrapped around Rafael’s waist, pouting playfully.
"It’s all your fault for keeping me up all night. Now I don’t even have the strength to eat! How am I supposed to handle the interview later?"
Rafael smiled, his voice indulgent. "Be good. I’ll feed you. No one will notice."
Then, she heard Kaylee’s next words—
"So, when are you divorcing her? Otherwise, how can you marry me?"
Helena’s breath hitched. She wanted to turn and leave. But her feet refused to move.
Then—she heard his answer.
"As soon as I finalize the agreement, she’ll sign it."
She closed her eyes, but it didn’t stop the pain.
It felt as if her chest was being ripped open.
—
That afternoon, Helena went to the photography studio.
After the session, the staff handed her a receipt with a sympathetic smile.
"Miss Walsh, your photos will be ready for pickup in a couple of days."
She blinked, then forced out a faint smile. "Thank you."
As she stepped outside, the sun was shining, but she felt no warmth.
Every step she took felt like a march toward death—a journey she had no way of stopping.
At the front desk, a television was broadcasting Rafael and Kaylee’s interview.
Her ears rang as his voice filled the room.
"The engagement between the Suarez and Perkins families was arranged long ago. Kaylee is a wonderful girl—she even saved my life once. We’ll be getting married next month. Everyone is welcome to attend."
Helena’s gaze dazedly drifted toward the screen, only to see them standing intimately close, their eyes and expressions overflowing with an undeniable love.
The receptionist sighed softly.
"Mr. Suarez is finally marrying Miss Perkins. They look perfect together."
Someone else agreed.
"It’s true. Miss Perkins is so kind. Just yesterday, she posted a video of herself doing the Ice Bucket Challenge! And it’s still early spring!"
The others nodded.
"They’re such a good match—talented and beautiful."
Their voices blurred together.
Each word felt like a needle, stabbing into her mind.
When Rafael married her, there had been no ceremony, no celebration.
The world had never even acknowledged her as Mrs. Suarez.
And now, the last thread connecting them was about to be severed.
Helena thought she had become numb. But now that the moment had finally arrived—the pain was unbearable.
—
By the time she returned to the villa, it was already night.
Rafael was lounging on the sofa, while Kaylee curled in his arms.
As soon as he saw her, his face turned cold. "Sign the divorce papers."
He tossed the document onto the table.
"I’ll give you five hundred thousand dollars. After that, we’ll have nothing to do with each other."
Helena’s hands trembled as she reached for the pen.
Her voice was hoarse, but steady. "Okay."
Immediately, Rafael’s expression twisted with disgust.
Seeing her so quick to sign, his lips curled into a sneer. "Of course. As long as there’s money involved, you’ll do anything."
He leaned back lazily and continued, "In a few days, Kaylee and I are taking wedding photos. You’ll come along as an assistant."
Kaylee glanced at her and smiled sweetly, feigning kindness.
"It’s alright. I can manage on my own. I’m sure Sis wouldn’t want to see me anyway... After all, it’s because of me that she—"
"This has nothing to do with you." Rafael cut her off, his voice utterly indifferent.
"This marriage was something she schemed for. I’m just returning things to their rightful place."
He turned to Helena, his gaze was like ice. "Besides—I never loved her."
