"Is that so?" Chloe laughed smugly.
I tensed.
She swiped my knife across her own hand in one quick motion.
Then came the wail: "Ah, Rebecca, what are you doing?!"
By the time I thought to drop the knife, it was too late.
Jack crossed the room in two strides and pulled her behind him.
His expression was ice-cold. "Rebecca, what the hell are you trying to do?"
"I really misjudged you."
"Apologize to Chloe. Now."
I nodded. "Sure. I'll apologize."
Then, without flinching, I dragged the blade across my own palm.
Sharp pain flared. Chloe's sobbing cut off mid-breath.
I looked up. Jack's pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Ding. Affection value: 95%.
I smiled. This time, I'd won.
One step left.
Jack cradled my bleeding hand like it was made of glass, fury blazing in his eyes. "Are you insane? Why would you hurt yourself like this?"
"I hurt Chloe," I said flatly. "So I apologized."
"You—" He choked on his own anger, then swept me toward the door. "Hospital. Now."
After the wound was bandaged, he sat on the edge of my bed.
"Don't ever do that again."
His voice was rough. "I've been thinking. I'll have Chloe move out as soon as possible. That way you two won't keep clashing."
I blinked. He'd always refused to budge on this before.
But it didn't matter anymore.
"There's a banquet tonight," he continued. "You're coming with me."
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with unexpected gentleness.
"I want everyone to know you're my wife."
"Okay," I said.
My chance had arrived.
Chloe was already at the banquet hall when we walked in.
Her entourage eyed me with open disdain. "This is what Mr. Stephens is into? She's way worse than you."
Chloe just smiled.
A year of suffering had left me gaunt and sallow—nothing compared to her pampered glow.
She leaned close, voice a blade wrapped in silk. "Tonight, I'll make you disappear for good."
My heart stuttered, but I kept my face blank. "Go ahead."
After today, I'd be gone anyway.
Jack cut through the crowd toward me. "Come with me."
He led me onto the stage. Below, hundreds of faces turned up—envy, curiosity, calculation.
I felt nothing.
A year ago, I would have been breathless for this moment. My reasons for getting close to him were never pure, but somewhere in those endless days together, something had shifted. Sometimes I'd imagined abandoning my mission world identity entirely. Staying with him forever.
I think I did love him.
But love that was never pure to begin with couldn't survive his blind favoritism. He'd worn it down to nothing.
Now I just wanted to finish the mission, go home, and see my family again.
I scanned the room. Chloe was gone.
Jack took my hand and addressed the crowd.
"Thank you all for being here tonight."
"The guest of honor is the lady beside me."
"After everything we've been through, I've finally confirmed that she is my—"
"Something's wrong! Miss Quinn is missing!"
Jack's head snapped toward me.
He studied my calm expression. Hesitation flickered across his face.
Then he looked away and roared, "Why are you all standing around? Go find her!"
Ten minutes later, Chloe walked in with her evening gown torn down the side, a man's jacket draped over her shoulders.
She locked eyes with me, tears brimming. "Rebecca. I didn't expect you to hate me this much."
Her voice cracked. "Do you know what almost happened? Those men you hired—" She choked back a sob. "If you didn't want me near Jack, I would've left. You just had to ask."
Jack turned to me. Disappointment flickered across his face. "Was this really you?"
I didn't bother explaining. I walked to the window and climbed onto the ledge.
His expression shattered. "Becca, what are you doing? Get down!"
"I believe you," he said, voice raw. "It wasn't you!"
I gave him a hollow smile. "Let's just say it was. She can have my life as payment."
I leaned back and let go.
"No!" Jack's scream tore through the air as I fell.
