To force me to break off our engagement, my fiancé drove my father’s company into bankruptcy, saddling us with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed into intensive care. As I knelt and begged my fiancé for the money to cover the surgery, my childhood friend, Julian, suddenly returned from abroad. He arranged for the best doctors and stayed by my side, day and night, as we kept vigil at my father’s bedside. A week later, my father had another, fatal heart attack. To give my father peace in his final moments, Julian knelt before him and swore he would marry me and take care of me for the rest of his life. After the funeral, my heart a hollowed-out shell, I broke off my engagement. And I married Julian. Five years later, I overheard a conversation between him and my ex-fiancé. “You have to admit, your plan was genius. You got that clingy psycho Simone to give up on me, willingly. But tell me, do you think she’d want to kill you if she knew you were the one who really destroyed her father?” … My hand froze on the handle of the private dining room door. Inside, my ex-fiancé’s mocking voice continued. “You’re a cold bastard, you know that? Simone grew up with you, treated you like a brother. I bet she’d never guess in a million years that you were the one who orchestrated her father’s ruin.” Alex chuckled. “If it wasn’t for Eliza, I never would have taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated Simone, but I’d never go so far as to drive her old man to his grave.” The sound of a glass slamming onto a table. Julian’s voice, thick with alcohol and fury. “What I did to Simone… I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I only helped you back then because I wanted Eliza to be happy. If you ever make her shed a single tear, I’ll end you.” Alex tutted. “Such devotion. A shame I met her first. You’d better focus on protecting your precious Simone. After all, you killed her father. I’d watch your back at night if I were you.” Crash! A glass shattered against the door. Footsteps approached. I took a sharp breath and fled, my heart hammering against my ribs. I ran down to the bar, grabbed the first drink I saw, and threw it back. The burn of the whiskey was a fire in my throat, and I choked, tears stinging my eyes. The words I’d overheard echoed in my mind, a torturous loop. The man who had ruined my father wasn’t my ex-fiancé. It was Julian, the man who had paid for his surgery. The sudden heart attack a week later… it must have been because of something Julian had said. No wonder my father had stared so intently at Julian as he took his last breath. At the time, I’d thought it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to his care. My husband of five years, the man who held me in his arms every night, who treated me like the most precious thing in his world… was the man who had indirectly killed my father. And our marriage, our life together, all his carefully constructed affection… was nothing more than compensation. A payment on a debt of guilt. The absurdity of it was a bitter pill to swallow. Grief and rage churned in my stomach like a violent storm. Just as my gaze fell on the empty glass in my hand, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Julian buried his face in my neck, his voice a warm, drunken murmur. “Simone… where have you been? I missed you… Let’s go home. I love you, Simone… I love you so, so much…” For years, whenever he was drunk, he would whisper these same words. His friends always said it was the truth coming out, that he was utterly devoted to me. Now, it was all a grotesque joke. I gently disentangled myself and helped him into the car, my movements numb and robotic. He collapsed onto my lap, his brow smoothing as his breathing evened out. He seemed to be asleep. “Eliza… Eliza… why didn’t you choose me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that had haunted his dreams for years. Eliza. My ex-fiancé’s new wife. Julian’s one true love. He had never forgotten her. He had married me, played the part of a loving husband, all for her. I had underestimated the depth of his devotion. A phone slipped from his pocket and clattered onto the floor mat. I bent to pick it up, and the screen lit up with a new message. From Eliza. Julian, thank you for covering for me tonight. But I can’t accept the necklace. It’s far too valuable. A second later, I saw her new social media post. “Love is priceless.” The accompanying photo was of a stunning diamond necklace—the very one that had made headlines last week when a mysterious billionaire paid a hundred million for it at auction. A one-of-a-kind piece. I knew the post was meant for me. Just last week, Julian had collapsed from overwork and a bleeding ulcer. Yet the moment he was discharged, he’d flown to London. I had been sick with worry, furious that he was sacrificing his health for his work. Now I knew. He had gone to an auction. He had endured excruciating pain to buy the most expensive necklace in the world and lay it at the feet of his true love. My fingers moved on their own, typing in the lock screen password. The final digit. The phone unlocked. The password was Eliza’s birthday. Julian never let me touch his phone, always talking about the importance of personal space. The moment the screen unlocked, Eliza’s radiant smile filled the display. His wallpaper. No wonder his expression always softened when he looked at his phone. I opened his photo gallery. It was a shrine. [Eliza, age 10], [Eliza, age 11]… [Eliza, age 25]. Thousands of photos, documenting every stage of her life. There wasn’t a single picture of me. Not even of himself. Only Eliza. Just like his heart. From beginning to end, there was only ever Eliza. I opened his notes app. It was a diary. October 12, 20XX. Sunny. Eliza scraped her knee on a tree branch today. It’s my fault. I never should have planted those trees in the yard. June 5, 20XX. Sunny. Eliza got married today. As long as she’s happy, everything I do is worth it. I live to make her happy. September 19, 20XX. Rain. I got married today. When I saw Eliza in the audience, I wished so desperately that she was the one standing beside me. The car pulled into our driveway. I looked out at the bare, empty yard and a chill went through me, so deep it felt like it was freezing my bones. There used to be two peach trees in that yard. My father had planted them for me on my tenth birthday, and Julian had transplanted them from my old family home. They were my connection to him, a reminder that he was still with me. One day, the trees, heavy with fruit, had suddenly withered and died. Their roots, the arborist said, had inexplicably rotted. Julian had held me for three days and nights as I cried. And now I knew. It was him. He had destroyed the last piece of my father he had left me. A new message popped up on his phone. It was from his assistant. [Mr. Thorne, as per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets are to be left to Ms. Eliza Vance.] [It just needs your signature to be executed.] Through a blur of tears, I saw him again, standing at my father’s funeral, holding me, promising me the world. “Simone, I’ll give you a home. Everything I have will be yours.” I put Julian to bed, but for the first time, I didn’t take off his shoes or tuck him in. I went to the guest room and closed the door. When I woke, sunlight was streaming through the window. I opened my eyes to find Julian watching me, his gaze full of a practiced gentleness. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Were you angry with me last night, Simone? I’m sorry, I had too much to drink. I promise it won’t happen again.” His tenderness was a well-rehearsed charade. I pushed him away and went to the bathroom, scrubbing his kiss from my skin until it was raw. The breakfast table was laden with food. A year ago, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading his diary, I felt nothing but a hollow ache. It was a feast of all of Eliza’s favorite foods. The front door opened. Eliza, dressed in a pristine white dress, walked in as if she owned the place and sat down at the table. She smiled at me. “Sorry to intrude, Simone. Julian and I have a photoshoot this morning, so he invited me for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the house key in her hand, identical to my own. Julian sensed the shift in my mood. He leaned in and whispered, “Eliza is our best friend, Simone. It’s normal for her to have a key.” His words trailed off. He shot up from his seat, his expression suddenly frantic, and snatched the glass of soy milk from Eliza’s hand. “Eliza, you can’t drink that! How many years has it been, and you still can’t remember?” She smiled, a coy, pleased little expression. “I know. It’s a good thing I’ve had you to look out for me all these years.” They stared at each other, lost in their own world, a perfect picture of two lovers. I had no interest in watching. I was about to leave when Eliza called out to me. “Simone, I remember you studied photography. Would you mind shooting for me today? I don’t really trust the new guy.” I hadn’t touched a camera since my father died. He was the one who taught me everything I knew. The weight of it in my hands was too heavy, a reminder of his frail, defeated form in his final days. I couldn’t bring myself to press the shutter. Julian knew this. He had locked all my camera equipment away, telling me not to force it, that he would help me heal. But now, he didn’t even wait for my reply. He ushered me into the back seat of the car. “Eliza gets carsick, Simone. You’ll have to sit in the back.” He had forgotten that my carsickness was worse. At the studio, he fussed over Eliza, carefully arranging the train of her gown. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air, my stomach churning. “The shoot is about to start, Simone,” Julian said, his voice impatient as he pulled me inside. “Don’t be difficult. This is important for Eliza, and for the company.” I stumbled, nearly falling. After five years, the camera felt alien in my hands, heavy with a suffocating dread. My hands trembled as I raised it to my eye. During a break, Eliza and I were alone in the studio. She flipped through the photos on the camera’s screen, a sneer on her lips. “You’re just as useless as your father, Simone. Can’t do anything right.” She looked me up and down. “Like father, like daughter.” My nails dug into my palms. A hot rage began to build inside me. Slap! The sting on my cheek was sharp and immediate. Eliza shook her hand, looking down at me with contempt. “You’re pathetic, Simone. I can’t believe after Alex dumped you, you immediately latched onto Julian. You don’t deserve him. Not Alex, not Julian. They’re both mine.” Her voice dropped to a vicious whisper. “You’re not worthy.” My head was still turned from the force of the blow. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand, slapped herself across the face with it, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap. She clutched her cheek, her eyes welling with tears, a perfect, fragile victim. “Simone, I didn’t say the photos were bad,” she sobbed. “I just wanted you to try a different angle. If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The door opened. Julian stood there, a water bottle dropping from his hand and clattering on the floor. He rushed past me and knelt beside Eliza, his face a mask of frantic concern. “Julian, I’m fine,” she whimpered. “Please don’t blame Simone. She didn’t mean it. It was my fault, I lost my balance.” “You’re too kind, Eliza! You don’t have to cover for her. I saw everything!” He gently helped her to her feet, treating her as if she were made of porcelain. He wrapped his arm around her, then turned to me, his face contorted with a rage I had never seen before in our five years of marriage. “Apologize to Eliza, Simone! I have spoiled you rotten these past five years! I’ve turned you into a monster!” His voice was thunderous. “You know how important her face is to her career!” He glared at me, his eyes completely blind to the red, swelling handprint on my own cheek. I lifted my head, my gaze meeting his, my voice eerily calm. “The one who should be apologizing is Eliza. She brought up my father. Speaking of which, Julian, is there anything you’d like to apologize for regarding what happened to my father?” A flicker of shock crossed his eyes. “If it wasn’t for me back then, your father would have died even sooner. Simone, I promised him I would take care of you, but that was on the condition that you would never, ever hurt Eliza.” A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. I shouldn’t have expected anything. The world went black, and I fell.
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