Aliza POV:
"I am committed to Kaylee. She is my fiancée. And I love her."
His words, simple and direct, were a fatal blow. My world didn't just tilt; it shattered, disintegrating into a million tiny fragments around me. The carefully constructed facade of my confidence, my independence, my unbreakable spirit-it all crumbled. He loved her. Not me. Never me.
A bitter, hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat. It was the sound of a heart breaking, echoing in the quiet street. The tears burned, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not here. Not in front of them. My pride, the last thing I had left, demanded it.
I straightened my spine, forcing a smile that felt like broken glass cutting my lips. "Oh, darling, is that what you think this was?" My voice was light, dismissive, a cruel parody of my usual charming self. "Love? Between us?" I scoffed. "Please. I'm Aliza Cabrera. I don't 'love' easily. You were just a pretty face, a challenge. A game."
Etienne's dark eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "A game?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Then tell me, Miss Cabrera. Why did you ask me that day? Three years ago. About my mother's watch? Why did you make it seem like more?"
The question caught me off guard. The memory flashed-a fleeting moment of tenderness that had sparked this entire, agonizing pursuit. My carefully constructed composure faltered. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, my voice sharper than intended. "What watch?"
He stepped closer, his gaze intense, pinning me. "The watch. The one I wore when I first stitched your hand. The one you commented on. You asked if it had sentimental value. You noted the inscription."
My mind raced, scrambling for an explanation, for an answer that didn't reveal the raw, vulnerable truth. "Oh, that old thing?" I forced another laugh. "I just... I thought it looked vintage. I collect unique pieces, you know. Nothing more. You're flattering yourself, Doctor."
He shook his head slowly, a grim certainty in his eyes. "No. You looked at it differently. You spoke to me differently that day. Why, Aliza?"
My breath hitched. The truth was raw, exposed. That day, he had been wearing a worn, old-fashioned watch. As he'd tended to my injury, he'd murmured about its significance, a gift from his dying mother. A rare, unguarded moment of vulnerability. I, a master of observation, had seen it, and felt a strange pull. I had seen the man behind the mask. He' d seemed so human then, so achingly sad. That was the moment my heart had truly stumbled.
But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not ever.
"Look, Dr. McCarthy," I said, my voice hardening, "I flirt with everyone. It's my 'brand,' darling. You're just... not very good at taking a compliment, apparently." I made to turn away.
"One more question, Aliza," he said, his voice cutting through the air, stopping me cold. "That necklace you kept wearing. The simple silver one. The one I gave you after you broke your hand in that stupid stunt. You wore it constantly. Why?"
My blood froze. The simple silver necklace. He had given it to me, a small, impersonal gift from the hospital gift shop, after I'd shattered my hand during a particularly dangerous stunt. "For good luck," he'd said, his voice flat. "Might prevent further unnecessary injuries." I had cherished it. Worn it every single day, believing it was a sign, a small bridge between us. It was a tangible piece of him I could hold onto.
"That?" I scoffed, forcing a casual shrug. "Oh, that was just a prop. Kaylee actually picked it out for me. She said it was 'simple enough for my taste.'" Kaylee. It was always Kaylee. I felt a fresh wave of nausea.
Etienne's face darkened further. The words felt like sandpaper, scraping against my raw soul. He turned, his gaze sweeping over Kaylee, who was now watching with wide, innocent eyes, a faint, satisfied smile playing on her lips. He then looked back at me, his eyes devoid of any emotion. He turned and walked to his car, his form rigid, a silent dismissal. He didn't even glance back at Kaylee, who watched him go with a smug, possessive smirk.
I stood there, paralyzed, feeling the last vestiges of warmth drain from my body. My limbs felt heavy, cold, as if the blood in my veins had turned to ice. That simple silver necklace, my symbol of hope, a piece of him I had cherished, was just a hand-me-down from Kaylee. A prop. A discard. Something he hadn't wanted, so he'd simply passed it to me.
Three years of my life. Three years of relentless pursuit, of baring my soul, of believing in that flicker of warmth, that hidden depth. All of it, a lie. A game orchestrated by my stepsister. And I was the fool who played along, thinking I was winning. My heart felt hollowed out, replaced by a gaping, bleeding wound. The humiliation was a searing brand on my skin. He saw me as nothing. Less than nothing. A convenient recipient for Kaylee's cast-offs.
I closed my eyes, a single tear finally escaping, tracing a path through the dust of my broken dreams. I wouldn't shatter. Not here. Not in front of the house where two people had conspired to break me.
I walked back to my car, each step an effort, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to collapse. I got in, my hands trembling as I started the engine. Just as I pulled away, my phone buzzed again. A text message. From my mother.
"Aliza, just heard about the clinic. Honestly. Such a drama queen. Anyway, your father and I decided. You're coming home. Kaylee needs your support right now. And it's time you abandoned that ridiculous acting career and found a suitable husband. We've arranged a meeting next week with the Beaumonts. Their son, Richard, is quite a catch. Stable, wealthy. Perfect for you. You'll be set for life. We've already started transferring some of the family assets to Kaylee's name, just to make sure she's secure now that Etienne is officially in the picture. Don't even think about disrupting this, Aliza. Your sister deserves happiness."
Richard Beaumont. The notorious playboy, known for his wandering eye and even more wandering hands. A man who saw women as trophies, not partners. And "family assets"? The same assets my grandfather had intended for my future, before Kaylee's manipulations twisted everything. My mother, my own mother, was actively disinheriting me, all for the sake of her precious Kaylee.
A cold, hard resolve crystallized in my heart. This wasn't about love anymore. This was about survival. About reclaiming what was mine. They wanted to marry me off, control my life, steal my legacy? Fine. But they would pay a price.
I typed a reply, my fingers steady now, cold and precise. "Mom, Richard Beaumont is a known philanderer. I'll consider the Beaumont proposal on one condition. Half of the 'family assets' you're so generously transferring to Kaylee. In my name. Now."
Her reply was instantaneous, sharp with outrage. "Aliza! Are you insane? You expect us to just hand over money? After everything you've put us through?"
"Half, Mom. Now. Or I will personally see to it that Richard Beaumont knows exactly what kind of 'stable, wealthy' family he's marrying into. And I promise you, I can be very persuasive." I paused, then added, "And I'll make sure the media knows about Kaylee's 'fragile' history, and how she loves to stir up trouble. You know how Hollywood loves a good scandal."
A long silence. Then, her strained voice, barely a whisper. "Aliza... you wouldn't."
"Try me," I typed, a chilling smile touching my lips. "Consider it my inheritance. The one you tried to steal. You have twenty-four hours."
Another agonizing wait. Then, a single word. "Fine."
"Deal," I replied, hitting send. The phone felt heavy in my hand. I tossed it onto the passenger seat, the victory tasting like ash.
I drove to the most expensive boutique in Beverly Hills, my credit card a blur. Clothes, jewelry, shoes-anything to fill the gaping void in my chest. My friends, always ready for an impromptu shopping spree, joined me.
"Aliza! What's with the spending frenzy?" my best friend, Sophia, asked, eyeing the mountainous pile of designer bags.
"Revenge, darling," I said, a brittle laugh escaping me. "And a little something for myself. My dear family decided to play hardball. I played harder." I explained the forced engagement, the stolen inheritance, and my brutal counter-offer.
Sophia and Chloe exchanged worried glances. "But Aliza, Richard Beaumont? He's a nightmare. And your parents... they'll make your life hell for this."
I leaned back, a dangerous glint in my eyes. "Oh, they will. But they won't succeed. Because I'm not actually marrying him." My smile widened, cold and predatory. "I'm using him to escape them. I'm going to take their money, their 'family assets,' and then I'm going to disappear."
My friends stared at me, mouths agape. "You're going to... run away?" Chloe whispered, her eyes wide.
"No," I corrected, my voice firm. "I'm going to reclaim my life. And I'm going to make sure they know exactly what they lost." A new fire ignited within me, cold and relentless. This wasn't the end. It was the beginning. My beginning.
