“I know I rejected you back then for Paulo,” I whispered over the phone, my voice trembling though I tried to sound strong. “But I was wrong. Do you… do you want to marry me now? If yes, then pick me up in five days and marry me.”
For a moment, silence filled the line, and I almost thought Cameron had hung up on me. But then came a low laugh, dark and amused.
“So you’ve finally come to your senses,” Cameron drawled. “Marrying your enemy now, Olivia? The same man you swore you’d never even look at?”
My grip on the phone tightened. His voice was the same as years ago—steady, mocking, yet sharp enough to cut through my chest. “If you don’t want to, then don’t!” I snapped, heat rising in my throat.
“Oh, come on,” he replied lazily. “Consider it done. But just so you know—once you come to me, there’s no turning back.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone in my hand, my heart pounding. I’d just proposed marriage to Cameron—the one man I once swore never to love, never to even depend on. It seemed insane, unthinkable. But right now… marrying him was better than staying trapped in the house of lies Paulo had built around me.
My eyes burned as tears slipped down my cheeks.
Just this morning, I had gone to the civil registry to get another copy of our marriage certificate. I had burned the original by accident, and thinking Paulo would be furious—I immediately wanted another copy. But when the woman at the counter looked at me with confusion, shuffled through the records again and again, and finally shook her head, my stomach dropped.
“There is no record of your marriage here, Ma’am.”
No record.
Five years I lived believing I was a wife. Five years I endured silence, abuse, neglect. No wedding ceremony, no white dress, no photos to show. Just a paper Paulo had supposedly rushed to register, saying he needed it so we could start fresh. I accepted it because I loved him. Because my family was falling apart, and I thought marrying him would fix something, anything.
But the truth? We were never married.
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling. It was my sister Leah who was supposed to marry Paulo five years ago. But she had run away—with a huge amount of money that belonged to our family—leaving us broken, humiliated. Paulo was left at the altar, mocked by his associates, his name dragged through whispers in the business circles.
I still remember the rage in his eyes that day, the way people laughed behind their hands, calling him a fool for trusting a woman who vanished with both his bride’s dowry and his pride.
At the same time, our world crumbled. Mother collapsed under the stress, her body too frail to handle the shame and the sudden debts piling onto us. Father’s health declined until one night, he simply never woke up. And the company—the legacy of our family—teetered on the edge of collapse. Creditors knocked on our door. We needed money, stability, and someone to hold us together.
That was when my brothers came to me.
“It’s just right,” they said coldly. “Leah is your sister. You should be the one to take her place. Paulo won’t accept anyone else, and if you don’t, we’ll lose everything. Do you want Mother to die without her medicine? Do you want Father’s company to vanish in the hands of our enemies?”
Their words pierced me like knives. I was grieving, broken, desperate to keep what was left of my family intact. And Paulo—Paulo, humiliated and angry—looked at me with something that seemed like longing, like need. He told me he loved me, that we could make it work, that we could rebuild together.
I believed him.
Until yesterday.
It was supposed to be our anniversary. I had prepared everything in secret, ready to surprise him. But on the way, I passed by the church. My world crumbled.
The guests were leaving, laughter echoing from the open doors. And there, at the steps, hand in hand, were Paulo and Leah.
My sister. The one who abandoned us.
“Thank you for still loving me after everything,” Leah whispered, tears streaking her face. “But… what about my sister, Olivia?”
“She’s nothing,” Paulo replied, his voice firm, his hand gripping hers tightly. “You know I only stayed with her because you were gone. Now you’re back—I forgive you. I want you. We’re gonna have a family.”
My stomach twisted violently, bile rising. But what shattered me completely were the next words.
Leah hesitated. “But… Olivia blames me for Father’s death. She hates me. What if—”
“She won’t do anything,” Paulo cut her off.
And then my brothers, standing right there beside them, sneered.
“She won’t harm you. You know we hated her too. The only reason we put up with her is because the inheritance was left under her name. Can’t believe Father would give everything to her. But it doesn’t matter—we just have to wait until she dies. Or… we make sure she does.”
My breath stopped. And in that moment, I realized I had no husband, no family, no safety. Only betrayal.
That was the last straw that pushed me to call Cameron.
I wiped my face, but fresh tears poured out. My chest tightened painfully, my stomach cramping. Something was wrong.
I staggered toward the sink, splashing cold water on my face, but nausea surged. I vomited until my throat burned, my body weak. My trembling hands reached for my phone.
“Paulo,” I croaked when his voicemail beeped. No answer.
I tried my brothers—both phones dead.
No one came.
Clutching my stomach, I forced myself to stand. My vision blurred, spots dancing before my eyes. Somehow, I grabbed my keys, dragged myself into the car, and pressed on the gas.
The hospital. Just get to the hospital.
But halfway down the road, the world spun. My head slammed against the steering wheel as pain ripped through me. The blaring horn mixed with the sound of screeching tires—
And then blinding light.
A truck.
And then—nothing.
