"You used dirty tricks to force that marriage. You nearly killed Annie's child and tried to destroy my company." Paul's voice was devoid of warmth, sharp as a blade. "You schemed so hard, and look at you now. You deserve this."
Pain flared in my wrist and the old fracture in my leg—ghost aches from a lifetime ago. A dry, hollow laugh escaped my lips.
I had loved Paul Gilbert for over twenty years. And this was his final verdict: I deserved it.
He fell silent, eyes fixed on the road. I closed mine, letting the darkness pull me back to a time before the nightmare began.
The Whitmores and Gilberts were bound by history and business. Paul and I were inevitable—childhood sweethearts. He was the stoic anchor to my spirited, pampered storm. Opposites, yet we fit perfectly.
When we were young, our confessions were shy and tentative. But after college entrance exams, I waged a campaign against our elders, begging for an engagement.
Mom hesitated. She feared a business alliance might crush me. But I held her hand, grinning like a fool.
"Mom, we love each other. Paul will cherish me forever."
I wore them down. Got my ring. Thought I had the world.
Two months later, that world shattered. Mom died in a car crash.
Two weeks after the funeral, Dad brought a girl home. Anna Fox—only two weeks younger than me. From the moment she crossed our threshold, my life disintegrated.
Anna took my bedroom. Seduced my dog with treats until he ignored me. Even wore the jewelry Mom had left for me.
I fought back, screaming at the injustice. But Dad didn't defend me. He scolded me. The doting father who'd treated me like a princess vanished, replaced by a cold stranger.
Then I saw the paternity test.
Anna crushed Mom's memorial tablet under her heel, sneering. "Surprised? Did you really think Dad loved your mother? He only stayed for the Whitmore fortune. The one he loves is my mother. And the daughter he loves is me. I'm taking everything, Serena."
I snapped. Screamed, calling her illegitimate scum, and lunged. My hand connected with her face in a vicious slap.
Before I could strike again, a heavy boot kicked me aside. Dad.
Bodyguards swarmed me, dragging me to the courtyard and forcing me to kneel in the torrential rain. The physical pain was nothing compared to the ice spreading through my chest.
The fever took me quickly. My last memory before darkness claimed me was Paul's face, twisted in panic, rushing toward me through the rain.
When I woke, I was staring at a strange ceiling. Tears leaked from my eyes.
Paul was there. He fed me water and pulled me into his arms, eyes red-rimmed. His voice was a steady promise against my ear.
"Rena, don't be afraid. You still have me. I will always be on your side."
I moved into the Gilbert estate. Paul became my universe. He did everything to make me smile—impossible-to-get concert tickets, a garden full of my favorite roses, meals cooked with his own hands.
The quiet boy had grown into a man. My rock. Throughout university, he flaunted our relationship, wrapping me in a cocoon of security.
Then Anna Fox set her sights on him.
At first, just love letters. Paul tossed them without a second glance. But Anna was relentless—leveraging connections, manufacturing "chance" encounters, confessing her love at every turn.
Chipping away at our armor.
