"A ritual marriage to ward off bad luck? In the last five years, the only case like that was the Sanchez heir—comatose after his car accident, needed a bride for the ceremony."
"Oh my God! Then 'Lucy' must be Lucinda Vance! They were childhood sweethearts, and she turns out to be a fake heiress!"
"Am I the only one who thinks the real bombshell is that the Sanchez heir is already MARRIED?"
That last comment wrapped around my throat like a fist.
Because he didn't love me, even something as simple as being acknowledged was too much to ask.
I wanted to laugh, but the tears came instead—rolling down my face like a broken string of pearls, impossible to stop.
The moment the anonymous account was exposed, the screen flickered and the post vanished.
In its place: a cease-and-desist letter from a law firm.
"This thread shall not be linked to any real individuals. Any comments defaming Miss Vance's reputation will be pursued to the fullest extent by Sanchez Group Legal."
Miss Vance.
No need to guess which Miss Vance they meant. That shield was for Lucinda, and Lucinda alone.
In the ten minutes I'd spent scrolling, a crowd had already gathered at the base of the building.
Nathan ignored the firefighters trying to hold him back and climbed onto the rooftop.
He hadn't even caught his breath before he was moving toward me, face tight with panic, voice trembling as though he were terrified.
"Tilly, please—don't do anything rash. This is all my fault, every bit of it. I can't live without you."
That desperate, guilt-ridden tone—
a completely different man from the one who'd just had that post scrubbed clean.
For a moment, I genuinely couldn't tell which version of him was real.
Ever since I arrived in this world and accepted the mission to win his heart, my entire life had revolved around him.
Nathan had been a minor branch member of the Sanchez family. Under my careful devotion he woke from his coma, and with me holding the script of future events, he rose through the ranks and inherited the Sanchez empire without a single obstacle.
During the years when I loved him most, Nathan used to hold me and whisper promises.
"Tilly, without you, being alive means nothing. We'll never be separated—only death could part us."
I believed him.
When I was "violated" by kidnappers, I locked myself in the bathroom and scrubbed my skin raw until the bathwater turned red with blood.
When I found out the child I carried was supposedly another man's, the revulsion was so unbearable I grabbed a pair of scissors and tried to cut the baby out of my own body.
When my contracts and my position were stolen from me, he said I wasn't capable enough to command respect—better to stay home and rest. I obeyed. I waited through thousands of cold, empty nights for him to come home.
It was during that stretch of darkness that the System appeared.
[Host, your heart is breaking. I'm not going to ask you to complete the mission anymore. Let me take you home...]
The System said that even though the mission was unfinished, it could still grant my wish—
A pair of parents who truly loved me.
A partner who would never betray me.
Back then, I hadn't seen through the filth hiding beneath Nathan's and my parents' so-called care.
I only told the System, "Isn't that exactly the life I'm already living?"
Now the lies and the masks had been ripped away by that single post.
I couldn't keep lying to myself anymore.
When I came back to my senses, the System's voice echoed in my mind again.
[Host, Nathan is here. You're definitely going to go soft again. It's windy up here—if you're not going to jump, at least go back inside.]
Ten trips to the ICU. Nine of those times, I'd been on my knees begging the System to let me live.
Every word out of my mouth had been about Nathan and my parents.
I'd made them my entire world.
And what had they made me?
"No, System. This time I'm really going home."
The words slipped out in a murmur, my voice cracking.
Nathan heard me and let out a quiet scoff. A flash of contempt darted through his eyes—
Ten ICU visits, and when had she ever actually died?
But the loving-husband act still had to be maintained. He forced his eyes to redden and stepped closer again.
"Tilly, if you jump, I jump. I'll die right alongside you—"
I didn't hear him. Didn't want to.
I closed my eyes and spread my arms wide.
In the chorus of screams rising from below—
I stepped off the edge.
Nathan Sanchez, I'm done.
