When Roxanne woke, she was lying in a hospital bed.
From the hallway, she heard Courtney’s voice, tight with anger.
“Why did you go back for her? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her?”
Vincent’s reply was swift. “Calm down, Courtney. That’s not what this is. I just didn’t want a body on our hands.”
Courtney sniffled. “Fine. I’ll believe you—this time. But you owe me.”
She held up her bruised arm. “If you hadn’t insisted on turning back, I wouldn’t be hurt.”
“Okay, I’ll make it up for you. Whatever you want. Just name it.”
Her eyes lit up with a cunning gleam. “Give me that ‘My Blue’ account.”
Vincent didn’t even blink. “Sure.”
Roxanne felt a dull ache in her chest—an ache she hated herself for feeling.
That account. My Blue. She’d created it for Vincent, spent years filling it with 382 pieces of art. Seven years of her life, all for him.
And just like that, he gave it away.
Didn’t even bother to ask.
Hearing the door creak open, Roxanne quickly shut her eyes and pretended to stir awake.
“Roxy! You’re up!” Vincent rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “God, I was so scared. Thank God you’re okay.”
She pushed him away gently, a cold smile curling on her lips. “You’re the one who left me there, Vincent. You sent me straight into danger.”
Vincent looked shaken—guilty, but Courtney jumped in fast.
“Don’t blame him, Roxanne. It was my idea to invite you to Possum Hollow. If you want to be mad, be mad at me.”
Roxanne laughed, cold and sharp. “Oh, you think I’m not mad at you? Don’t worry—you’ll get your turn after I’m done with Vincent. I’m definitely not letting that slide. I’m pressing charges for those traffickers you send.”
Courtney clutched her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Why do you keep saying that? I just got back from overseas— how could I possibly know anything about traffickers?”
Vincent added quickly, “It can’t be Courtney. She’s not that kind of person.”
“Well, I already called the cops,” Roxanne said calmly. “She can explain herself to them.”
Vincent scowled. “You called the police? You turn this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. This is ridiculous!”
Courtney’s eyes flickered with cold calculation, but she masked it quickly.
“If that makes you feel safe, then fine. Well, I haven’t seen you eating. You must be starving. I’ll have food sent up here.”
Not long after, the door opened. A masked delivery guy stepped in, holding a bag of food.
“Hi, your order’s here.”
Vincent reached for the bag—only to be shoved aside.
Before anyone could react, the man pulled a knife from the bag and lunged straight at Courtney.
“Courtney, look out!”
Vincent threw himself in front of her, kicking at the attacker.
But the man didn’t even glance at them. He spun around and plunged toward Roxanne.
She caught the blade with both hands, blood dripping as she screamed, “Vincent! Help me!”
He moved to go—but Courtney collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Vincent, please don’t leave me. I’m scared…”
He hesitated.
And in that split second, the knife drove deep into Roxanne’s side.
She stared at him, wide-eyed and utterly shattered. Even now—bleeding, on the edge of death—she still wasn’t enough. Not compared to Courtney’s fear.
So this is what love looked like, huh? The difference between loving and not loving someone really was that simple. That cruel.
The man raised the knife again, but just then, security rushed in. Two guards tackled him to the ground, wrestling the blade from his hand.
A nurse hurried in, pressing gauze to Roxanne’s side, trying to stop the bleeding as she barked orders into her headset.
Vincent stood frozen. Still. The image of Roxanne’s eyes—dark with heartbreak, not pain—burned into his mind.
That look.
That look unnerved him.
He stayed with Courtney long enough to calm her down, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shirt. Then, when she was settled, he returned to Roxanne’s hospital room.
She lay there, pale and weak, staring off at nothing, like she didn’t even notice he’d walked in.
Guilt clawed at his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I swear, that’s the last time I’ll ever let you get hurt. I’ll never leave you again.”
Roxanne turned her head slightly. Her voice was soft, even. “Okay.”
Vincent hesitated. That was it? No questions? No tears?
She didn’t yell. Didn’t throw anything. She wasn’t clinging or begging.
That wasn’t like her.
Something felt off. Something he couldn’t name.
“Roxy… do you still love me?” he asked, his voice low, uncertain.
She looked him right in the eye. Calm. Composed. “I told you—I’d never marry someone I didn’t love.”
That one sentence sent a jolt through him. But then he remembered—seven days from now was their wedding.
Maybe she was just shaken. Maybe it was the blood loss.
Relief flickered in his chest. He smiled, trying to convince himself things would be okay. “Just rest up, alright? Seven days from now, you’ll walk down that aisle as the most beautiful bride anyone's ever seen.”
Roxanne nodded.
Yeah, she’d rest.
But not for him.
She was healing up so she could leave him behind—once and for all.
