But before she could scramble for another excuse, someone spoke up—one of her loyal supporters, stepping in to defend her.
"From what I heard, Nadine was the one who started it. She boasted about her night with you to Colette. She was shocked, that’s all."
"Yeah, I would have been shocked too."
"She’s so shameless."
The word stung like a slap, whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.
I felt Raphael’s grip on me tighten.
Then, his voice, sharp and cold, echoed through the room.
“Who just said that?”
Silence.
“Who dares to call Nadine shameless? Come forward if you have the guts.”
No one moved.
Not a single person met his gaze.
The weight of his fury pressed down on the entire room like a force of nature, making even Colette’s once-adoring followers shrink into the background.
Raphael scoffed, pulling me closer, his arm wrapping protectively around my waist like I was something precious.
“Whatever it is, it’s up to Nadine. I don’t mind either. Why are you all making such a fuss?”
Colette’s lips trembled, but she did not dare speak. She did the only thing she could—crying.
Her silent tears only fueled the sympathy of her supporters, who rushed to console her.
Raphael ignored them entirely. His attention was solely on me, his voice softer, almost coaxing.
“Come to my room. Let’s get you changed.”
But I shook my head, stepping back.
“No need,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m going home.”
“Okay, let me take you home.”
Raphael still behaved as if nothing had changed. He opened the door for me, helped me with my seatbelt, and drove at a steady pace, as if we were not on the verge of destruction.
But I was not in the mood to be coddled.
I turned to him, my voice cold, sharp. "Why are you still being sweet to me even though you're going to marry Colette soon?"
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. His face darkened, jaw clenching as if the question alone was enough to enrage him.
"Who said that?" he demanded. "Is it Colette? Is that why you two were fighting earlier?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "Did it look like a fight to you?" I shot back instead of answering his question.
Raphael exhaled sharply, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair, his usual composure slipping. "Listen, whatever you hear, it's not true. I will not engage with Colette, let alone marry her. I only love you, Nadine. I want to be with you forever.
"As for my parents' plan," he continued, "that was just their plan. I never agreed to it. Then…."
I cut him off, my voice colder than ever. "But you were always aware of Colette's unrequited love, right?"
He choked out, his grip on the wheel tightened.
"Then what’s the connection, Nadine? You know enough that I love you. That should be enough, right?"
His voice rose, frustration lacing every word.
It was not our first fight, but it was the first time I felt something break inside me.
I turned to him, my chest tightening with a pain I could no longer ignore. "It’s not enough, never enough.
"The truth is, you don’t really love me. You love me because I’m a Delaunay."
His head snapped toward me, disbelief flashing in his eyes.
"What do you mean? I don’t care who your family is!" he said fiercely. "I would be happier if you weren’t a Delaunay. Our relationship would be smoother if you weren’t tied to that name!"
"Yes, that’s right," I murmured. "You always think of me like that. A nuisance. A problem you need to overcome. A complication that shouldn't exist."
I took a shaky breath before delivering the final blow.
"So just get rid of me, Raphael. From now on, don’t worry about me. Don’t look for me. Just let me go."
And with that, I unbuckled my seatbelt, my fingers reaching for the door handle.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Raphael shouted, his voice laced with panic as he reached for my wrist. The car swerved slightly as he tried to regain control with one hand.
"Stop being unreasonable, Nadine!"
"Let go of me!" I struggled, trying to pull free from his grasp.
The car veered dangerously to the side, tires screeching against the asphalt. My pulse pounded in my ears. Everything was happening too fast.
Before I could even process it, our car crashed.
I felt my body being thrown forward, the world spinning as the windshield exploded into tiny shards.
For a brief moment, there was only weightlessness.
And then, darkness swallowed me whole.
When I regained consciousness, I could feel the ache in my body, a dull, persistent pain radiating from my head down to my limbs.
A thick brace supported my neck, an oxygen mask covered my face, and the weight of an IV tugged at my arm.
But what caught my attention first was the warmth of my hand. Someone was holding it.
I forced my heavy eyelids open, my vision hazy as I turned my head slightly, expecting to see Raphael.
And there he was. Sitting beside my hospital bed, his face bruised but otherwise unharmed, save for a few minor abrasions.
He was relaxed, seated comfortably, a stark contrast to my state.
But, since the anger still coiled in my stomach, with the last of my strength, I pulled my hand away from his grasp.
Raphael's fingers twitched at the sudden loss of contact. His sharp eyes flickered to me, widening with relief as he realized I was awake.
"Nadine..." His voice was breathless, laced with concern. He leaned forward, reaching out instinctively. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"
I did not answer. I was too disgusted with his act. By the way he looked at me with such concern.
My silence made him panic. His brows furrowed and he said hurriedly, standing up, "I’ll call the doctor. They need to check you again—make sure there’s no internal injury."
Minutes later, after the examination, they removed my neck brace and oxygen mask. My head was still throbbing, my limbs weak, but aside from the IV in my arm, I was stable.
"You’re lucky," the doctor had said. "It could have been much worse."
Raphael lingered by my bedside, his fingers brushing against my hair in a way that would have once comforted me.
"I’ll take care of the administration first," he murmured, his voice softer now.
Then, to my utter revulsion, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. A silent apology. A feigned regret.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my body stiff beneath his touch.
As soon as he left the room, my phone vibrated weakly on the nightstand. Its screen was cracked from the accident, but still functional.
I reached for it with difficulty, my breath hitching as Colette’s name flashed across the notification bar.
As I tapped the message open, a video file stared back at me, the play button almost mocking.
With trembling fingers, I pressed it.
The screen flickered to life, showing dimly lit security footage. At first, I could not understand what I was looking at—until I saw them.
Raphael’s parents.
