Marianne's POV
Everyone in the city knew that Gideon and Arabella were sworn enemies. Whenever they crossed paths, it always ended in a fight.
Back in school, their battles were the stuff of legend. She once tried to poison his lunch, and he hired people to throw a sack over her head in return.
Eventually, they struck a truce that as long as neither crossed the line, they’d leave each other alone.
And yet, facing a woman like that, someone he hated so deeply, he still turned on me tonight.
“Marianne,” his voice was cold, his face stormy, “this time you went too far. Arabella was just joking. Don’t make people think we can’t take a joke. Apologize.”
A laugh bubbled up in my chest, bitter and sharp.
With a trembling voice, I said, “You forgot everything she’s done to you?”
He shot back without hesitation. “I already broke her collarbone for you. That scar is still there. What more do you want?”
His words stunned me, and for a moment, I forgot why I had once risked my life for him.
Back then, when Arabella rammed her car into his family’s vehicle, I was the one who dragged him out, even with the gas tank about to explode. He was bleeding everywhere, his strength nearly gone, yet he clung to me with all he had.
That day, he told me he hated her and how lucky and grateful he was to have me.
Now, that memory just made me feel tired.
I grabbed my bag and stood to leave, but his hand clamped around my arm, hard enough to bruise.
The sting pushed me over the edge. I yanked free and slapped him hard.
Everyone froze, except for Arabella, who looked almost entertained.
With a red handprint blooming across his cheek, he said nothing. But the fury in his silence made it clear that he was livid.
But what right did he have to be angry?
I shook the pain out of my hand, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked out of the private room.
Behind me, voices carried.
Arabella, drying her hair with a towel, chuckled as she clapped him on the shoulder.
“Looks like the girl you broke my collarbone for isn’t so great after all.” She smirked. “But since you look so pathetic right now, I’ll cut you some slack. Go run after her before she’s gone for good. Or what, are you planning to break my collarbone again?”
For the briefest moment, I caught her eyes glistening red, just a hint. And that alone made Gideon frown.
Closing the door, I turned my back and silently counted to three.
I thought he remembered what I once told him, that no matter how angry or hurt I was, I would always wait three seconds for him to come after me.
But this time, instead of footsteps chasing me, I heard his voice.
“Arabella, about what happened back then, I’m sorry.”
My heart dropped.
I had always believed he would never, ever apologize to her. Not after everything.
She was the one who drove drunk and killed his father. She also kidnapped me and held a knife to my throat, forcing him to sign a forgiveness agreement.
Back then, she gave him two choices. Either sign the paper and save me, or kill her and lose me forever.
And Gideon, eyes bloodshot, rage uncontained, chose both. He slashed her collarbone open, shattered her knee with a kick, and still signed the agreement.
I remembered the way he spat, “If you’re still alive today, then count yourself lucky. But don’t expect me to ever show mercy again. Locking you up would be a waste of resources. One day, you’ll kneel and beg me for forgiveness.”
With her hate-filled eyes burning into him, he carried me away. That night, for the first time, he cried in front of me. He whispered “sorry” over and over, as though he’d failed me by letting her live.
But tonight, on the ride home, he didn’t call me once.
Instead, I saw his friends posting updates, sharing his interactions with Arabella.
Turned out, after I left, their atmosphere wasn’t nearly as hostile.
