When the phone was pressed into my hands, they shook so violently I could barely hold it. Thorne, without a word, reached out and wiped my tears away, then opened the recording app and even pressed the button for me, making the video himself.
Thirty seconds. That was all I had. I stammered through my lines, declaring I wouldn’t hold anyone accountable, that everything was merely an accident. When I handed the phone back, my voice was weak as I asked, “Can we… finally operate on my father now?”
He looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “Go ahead…” he said.
But before I could even process the word, a scream pierced the air from the operating room. “Ah! My head… I feel so dizzy!” Lilith collapsed, utterly helpless.
Thorne’s composure shattered instantly. He dashed toward her, lifting her into his arms as if the world depended on her alone. The doctors followed, leaving my father unmoved on the bed, alarms wailing around him. I screamed, “No! Save my dad! Please, Thorne, you promised!”
I tried to block him, but he didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were locked on Lilith. He shoved past me, running toward her bed with the doctors at his heels. Their frantic steps echoed in my chest, but the weight of my fear stole the words from my throat.
I was too late.
I clutched at his legs, begging him to turn back, but he shoved me aside with such force I stumbled and hit the wall. My vision caught my father lying helpless, and it felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest.
“Dad! Dad!” I cried. But Thorne’s voice cut through everything.
“Don’t worry, Lilith. I’m right here… I’ve got you,” he said, panic lacing every syllable—but it wasn’t for me.
He only glanced back because of the sound of my body hitting the wall. Then he waved two interns toward my father’s room. “Your father will survive. I’ll honor that promise,” he said, icy and detached. “But nothing will stop me from saving Lilith.”
The world spun black.
Before unconsciousness took me, one thought echoed: I had to escape. I had to vanish from his life forever.
---
When I woke, a card sat on my bedside table, a note tucked beneath it. “Your father’s surgery will have to wait a little longer.” That single line spoke volumes. For Lilith, Thorne could pause the world. For me and my father, we were always secondary.
My chest ached so fiercely I could barely inhale. Then laughter erupted—bitter, broken, the kind that emerges when your heart is in pieces. Clutching my chest, I grabbed my phone and called Thorne’s grandfather, the one who had always wanted me gone.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll divorce him. But I need your help. Help me fake my death. I want my father and brother with me. I want us gone. Forever.”
Two days later, after discharge, the divorce papers were ready. My lawyer had everything in order.
When I returned to the villa, Thorne was just leaving to fetch Lilith. He froze when he saw me. “You’re back? You look… pale,” he said, a flicker of concern crossing his face.
Pale? Of course I was pale. My father lay in a hospital bed like a vegetable, my brother was in prison, and he thought I could look vibrant? I didn’t answer.
I handed him the papers flatly. “Sign this.”
He blinked. “What…?” he began, but his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, frowned, then, without hesitation, scribbled his signature and shoved the papers back at me.
“Lilith’s waiting. If it’s another work document, leave it in my study next time,” he said, already striding toward the door.
I stared at the signature, at how easily he let me go. He ended our marriage as if I were nothing. Pathetic.
I tucked the papers under my arm and walked straight to the courthouse.
---
By evening, I returned home. Thorne was in the living room with Lilith, his arm draped possessively around her. “She’s being followed by some obsessive patient’s family,” he said casually. “She’ll stay in our master bedroom. You can take one of the guest rooms. Thanks to your brother’s mess. Don’t worry, once it’s safe, she’ll move to my new penthouse.”
“Do what you want,” I replied. The divorce was done. This house wasn’t mine anymore. I had no fight left.
He looked startled at my calmness, as if expecting tears or screams. His frown deepened, but before he could speak, Lilith spoke.
“Aria, I just got off a night shift and haven’t eaten. Can you cook for me?” Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were sharp, daring. “Thorne says your cooking is the best, but I’ve never tasted it.”
“Ask the maid,” I said, turning to leave.
Her little protest followed me, and Thorne’s voice cut through, low and commanding. “Aria.” That was all. No explanation needed. I already knew. When Lilith wanted something, I was expected to serve.
