I sat frozen in the corner of the auction hall while he stood at the front with Polly. Their fingers brushed together before he finally laced his hand with hers. They looked ready to leave, like I wasn’t even there.
Polly’s sharp eyes found me anyway. Her smile was sweet, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Lucian, that old watch is such an eyesore. Why don’t you throw it out? That way no one will keep leaving their little gifts lying around. Isn’t that right, sister?”
My teeth sank into my lip so hard I tasted blood.
Lucian’s gaze slid toward me for the briefest second. His eyes touched mine, red and wet, and he looked like he’d been caught staring at fire. He dropped his gaze instantly.
Then his mouth curved, faint, cold. “Let’s go,” he said to Polly.
She smirked at me like she’d won and walked off with him, their shoulders brushing as they disappeared into the crowd.
When the auction finally ended, I stumbled to the back office to settle my earnings, but the clerk shook her head. “Sorry, Ms. Velasquez. Your account’s been frozen.”
That was it. The last thread I was holding onto snapped.
I walked outside in a haze, and the chill night air slapped my face. A black Maybach pulled up in front of me, silent as a shadow.
The window rolled down. Viktor sat inside.
“Miss Velasquez. Mr. Roberts asked me to remind you… the wedding is almost here. Best not to entertain thoughts that don’t belong to you. Stay home. Be a good bride.”
Then the car slipped away, leaving me alone in the wind.
That night, I dreamed.
I dreamed of another life, one where Lucian clasped a necklace around my neck and whispered my name with a smile. Aurelia. His Aurelia.
But the dream twisted. In this life, Lucian was holding Polly, her belly round with his child. He turned to me, and his eyes hard with contempt. “A fickle woman like you thinks she deserves me?”
I jolted awake, gasping and my body soaked in sweat. Staring at the canopy above my bed, I felt something hollow inside me. Maybe… maybe it was time to let go.
After that, I stayed home. I didn’t step outside for days.
***
A week before the wedding, a friend sent me tickets to a polo match. “Go have fun before you’re tied down,” she’d teased. I didn’t want to refuse her kindness, so I went.
The last thing I expected was to see Lucian and Polly there. Again.
They rode into the field side by side, their matching white breeches and navy jackets gleaming in the sun. Both astride tall, elegant horses, they looked like they belonged in some glossy fairytale painting—him commanding and refined, her glowing at his side.
My chest ached. Lucian never cared for polo. He was only here for her.
I spotted my friend in the stands and started toward her, but a sharp cry split through the cheer of the crowd.
“Oh my god! Polly’s horse is bolting!”
I whipped around. Her stallion tore across the grass in a frenzy, hooves pounding the earth, foam flying from its mouth. Polly clung to the reins, terror etched across her face.
And then her eyes locked onto mine.
In that breathless instant, she yanked the reins. The wild animal charged straight toward me.
The thunder of hooves filled my ears. Too fast. Too close. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
And then I saw him.
Lucian.
He launched into motion, spurring his own horse forward. He had a choice. One path cut toward me. The other toward her.
Time slowed. The crowd blurred.
I watched him lean low and his arms hooking around Polly as he swept her clean off the saddle. Together they tumbled safely into the grass, his body shielding hers.
And I… I stood frozen, as the stallion barreled into me.
The impact knocked me sprawling. A hoof slammed down onto my hip, another onto my thigh. Bones cracked, splintered. The pain was blinding, sharp enough to rip the air from my lungs.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Lucian clutching Polly to his chest… not even glancing my way.
***
When I finally surfaced from the void, the first face I saw was Fatima with Polly right beside her.
“Oh thank God, you’re awake,” Fatima whispered, “You’ve been unconscious for two days. We thought we might lose you.”
I blinked, until the sight of my lower body sharpened. My hips and legs were bound and braced, suspended in a cruel contraption above the bed.
I tried to move. Nothing. No sensation. Panic crashed over me like icy water. My hands trembled as I clutched Polly’s wrist. “What… what happened to me?”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, but they were practiced, theatrical. She shook her head, choked on sobs, and turned away.
“Polly! Tell me what’s wrong with me!”
Her crying only grew louder.
It was my stepmother who finally spoke, “The doctors said… your hips and legs were shattered. There’s severe nerve damage and they aren’t sure if you’ll ever walk again.”
