To force me to break our engagement, my fiancée 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 fiancée for the money to cover his surgery, my childhood friend, Sara, suddenly returned from overseas. She arranged for the best doctors and stayed by my side, keeping a tireless vigil at my father's bedside. But a week later, my father suffered another, more severe heart attack. To give him peace in his final moments, Sara knelt before his bed and swore an oath to marry me, to love and cherish me for the rest of her life. After the funeral, my heart a hollowed-out shell, I officially broke off the engagement. Instead, I married my childhood friend, Sara. Five years later, however, I overheard a conversation between her and my ex-fiancée. “I have to hand it to you, Sara, your move was brilliant. You got that leech, Leo, to give up on me, just like that. But I wonder… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were the one who killed his father? Would he want to kill you?” … My hand froze on the handle of the VIP lounge door. Inside, my ex-fiancée’s mocking voice dripped with venom. “You’re a real piece of work. Leo grew up with you, treated you like his own sister. I bet he’d never guess in a million years that the person who destroyed his father’s company was you.” “And honestly, if it wasn’t for Johnny’s sake, I never would have taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated Leo, but I’d never stoop low enough to drive a man to his grave.” A glass slammed onto the table. Sara’s voice, thick with wine and fury, cut through the air. “What I owe Leo, I will spend the rest of my life repaying. I only helped you back then because I wanted Johnny to be happy. If you dare betray him, if you make him shed a single tear, I will end you.” My ex-fiancée let out a derisive little laugh. “Such devotion. It’s a shame he met me first. You’d better focus on protecting your precious Leo. After all, you have his father’s death on your conscience. Be careful he doesn’t come back to haunt you in your sleep.” CRASH! A glass shattered against the door, fragments exploding across the floor. Footsteps rushed toward the door. I took a sharp breath and fled, my heart pounding as I stumbled down to the bar. I grabbed a glass of whiskey and threw it back. The unfamiliar liquor burned a path down my throat, stinging my eyes with tears I refused to let fall. Her words echoed in my mind, a torturous loop. The person who had ruined my father wasn't my fiancée. It was Sara—the same Sara who had paid for his surgery. The sudden heart attack that killed him a week later… it must have been because of something she said. No wonder. No wonder Dad had stared at her with such intensity just before he passed. I had been so naive, thinking it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to her care. The woman I had shared a bed with for five years, the wife I had cherished and placed on a pedestal, was the one who had indirectly murdered my father. And our entire marriage, all her feigned love and affection, was nothing more than a twisted form of penance. A pathetic attempt at “compensation.” What a fucking joke. Grief and rage churned within me, a toxic storm in my soul. My gaze fell on the glass in my hand when, suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Sara buried her face in my neck, her warm breath ghosting over my skin. Her voice was a soft, drunken murmur, filled with a tenderness that now felt like poison. “Leo, you were gone so long… I missed you… Let’s go home. Leo, I love you… I love you so, so much…” For years, whenever she was drunk, she would whisper these words to me. Her friends always said it was the truth coming out, that she was head-over-heels in love with me. Now, it was all just a grotesque parody. I gently pried her arms off me and guided her to the car, my touch devoid of its usual warmth. She collapsed onto my lap, her brow smoothing as her breathing evened out. She seemed to be asleep. “Johnny… Johnny… why didn’t you choose me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that haunted her dreams, the name I had never been able to place. Johnny. Johnny Croft. The man who had stolen my fiancée. And, as I now realized, the great, unattainable love of Sara’s life. She had never forgotten him. She had even married me, putting on this elaborate show of affection, all for him. I had tragically underestimated the depth of her love for Johnny Croft. A phone clattered from her pocket onto the car floor. As I bent to pick it up, the screen lit up with a new message. Johnny: Sara, thanks for covering for me tonight. But I can’t accept the necklace. It’s too much. A second later, I saw a new post on Johnny's social media feed: “Love is priceless.” The photo was of a stunning, diamond-encrusted necklace—the very one that had made headlines for being sold to a mysterious billionaire for a million dollars at a Geneva auction. A one-of-a-kind piece. I knew, with a sickening certainty, that he had posted it for me to see. Just last week, Sara had been working so hard she’d forgotten to eat, collapsing with a stomach ulcer that landed her in the emergency room. The moment she was discharged, she flew to Geneva. At the time, I was both furious and heartbroken that she would risk her health for her job. Now I knew the truth. She hadn’t gone for work. She had gone for an auction. Even doubled over in pain, she had to be there to buy the most precious necklace in the world and lay it at the feet of her one true love. My fingers moved as if possessed, typing in the screen lock password. The final digit went in. The phone unlocked. It was Johnny’s birthday. Sara had always been fiercely protective of her phone, insisting on “personal space.” Now I knew why. As the screen came to life, Johnny’s handsome, smiling face filled the wallpaper. No wonder her expression always softened whenever she unlocked her phone. I opened her photo gallery. It was a shrine. Album after album, meticulously labeled. Johnny, Age 10. Johnny, Age 11. ... Johnny, Age 25. Thousands of photos, each capturing a different moment of Johnny’s life, his smile, his triumphs. There wasn’t a single picture of me. Not even one of herself. Only Johnny. Just like her heart. From the very beginning, it had only ever held Johnny. I opened her notes app and found her diary. June 12, 20XX. Sunny. Johnny scraped his leg on a branch today. It’s all my fault. I never should have planted those trees in the yard. October 3, 20XX. Sunny. Johnny got married today. As long as he’s happy, anything I do is worth it. My entire existence is for his happiness. May 21, 20XX. Rain. I got married. When I saw Johnny in the crowd, for a moment, I wished so desperately that he was the one standing beside me. The car pulled into our driveway. I looked up at the barren front yard, and an icy chill spread through my limbs. There used to be two magnificent peach trees in that yard. Sara had them transplanted from my family’s old estate, the ones my father had planted for me on my tenth birthday. Every time I looked at them, I felt like he was still with me, that he had never left. Then one day, the trees, once laden with fruit, suddenly withered. Their roots had inexplicably rotted away. Sara held me for three days and nights as I wept, whispering reassurances. Now I knew. It was her. She had destroyed the last living piece of my father that I had left. A new message popped up on her phone, this one from her assistant. [Assistant]: Ms. Vance, as per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets are to be left to Mr. Johnny Croft. [Assistant]: It is ready for your signature to be executed. Through a blur of tears, a memory surfaced. The woman at the funeral, holding me, her voice thick with emotion as she made her promise. “Leo, I will give you a home. Everything I have is yours.” I carried Sara to our bed. But this time, I didn’t gently remove her shoes or tuck her in. I turned and walked straight to the guest room, closing the door behind me. I shut my eyes, but all I could see were flashes of her "love" for me over the past five years. A montage of lies. Sunlight streamed into the room, waking me. I opened my eyes to find Sara gazing at me, her expression a mask of tender concern. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Leo, were you angry last night? I’m sorry, I had a little too much to drink at the event. I promise it won’t happen again.” The same gentle performance as always. “Mm,” I grunted, pushing her away before heading to the bathroom to wash the lingering warmth of her kiss from my skin. The breakfast table was laden with food. A year ago, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading her diary, I felt nothing but a hollow ache. This entire spread… it was all Johnny’s favorite food. The front door clicked open, and Johnny himself walked in, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit. He strolled to the table as if he owned the place. He offered me a slight, knowing smile. “Leo, sorry to intrude. Sara and I have a photoshoot this morning, so she invited me over for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the house key in his hand, identical to mine. Sara, ever perceptive, sensed the shift in my mood. She leaned close, her voice a low whisper. “Johnny is our best friend, Leo. It’s normal for him to have a key…” She didn’t finish. Her voice changed, a note of alarm cutting through her whisper as she shot up from her seat and snatched a glass of soy milk from Johnny’s hand. “Johnny, you can’t drink that! How many years has it been? You still can’t remember?” He pursed his lips, a smirk playing on his face. “I know. Good thing I’ve had you to look after me all these years.” They stared at each other, lost in a moment so intimate they might as well have been the only two people in the room. I had no interest in watching their maudlin display. As I turned to leave, Johnny called out to me. “Leo, I remember you studied photography. Could you shoot 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 moment I held a camera, all I could see was his face in those final moments—frail, defeated, his eyes pleading. I hadn’t found the courage to press the shutter since. Sara knew this. She had locked all my camera equipment away, telling me not to force it, that she would be there for me until I was ready to pick it up again. But now, before I could even refuse, she was pushing me toward the car. “Leo, you know Johnny gets carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back, okay?” She had forgotten. My motion sickness was far worse than his. Having barely touched my breakfast, my stomach churned violently the entire ride. When we arrived, Sara was already fussing over Johnny, smoothing his suit jacket and taking his arm as she led him into the studio. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air. “Leo, the shoot is about to start,” Sara’s voice was sharp as she grabbed my arm, yanking me inside. “Be good, don’t be difficult. This shoot is very important for Johnny and his company.” I lost my balance, stumbling, nearly crashing to the floor. Holding the camera after five years felt alien and terrifying. My hands trembled. I fought back the wave of grief and despair, forcing myself to press the shutter, again and again. During a break, the studio emptied out, leaving just Johnny and me. He scrolled through the photos on the camera’s display, a contemptuous smile curling his lips. “You know, Leo, you’re just like your father. A complete failure. Can’t do anything right.” He clicked his tongue. “Like father, like son.” My nails dug into my palms, a tremor running through my body as rage threatened to boil over. SLAP! A searing, fiery pain exploded across my cheek. Johnny shook his hand, looking down at me with pure disdain. “You’re shameless, Leo. I can’t believe after getting dumped, you immediately latched onto Sara. What part of you is worthy of her? Let me make it clear: your ex, Sara… they’re both mine.” “You are not worthy.” My head was still ringing from the blow when he suddenly grabbed my hand, slapped it against his own face, and theatrically threw himself backward onto a nearby table. He clutched his cheek, his eyes welling with tears, his expression one of pure, wounded innocence. A complete transformation. “Leo, I didn’t mean you were a bad photographer… I just wanted you to try a different angle… If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The door swung open. A water glass fell from Sara’s hand, shattering on the floor. She rushed past me, pushing me aside as she knelt to check on Johnny. “Sara, I’m fine,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Please don’t blame Leo. It wasn’t his fault, I just lost my footing.” “Johnny, you’re too kind! You don’t have to cover for him. I saw it with my own eyes!” Sara gently helped Johnny to his feet, treating him as if he were made of delicate porcelain. She wrapped an arm around him, her gaze, when it finally turned to me, was blazing with a fury I had never seen before in our five years of marriage. “Leo, apologize to Johnny! Now! I have spoiled you for the last five years, and it has turned you into a monster!” she seethed. “You know how important his face is for his image!” She stared at me, her eyes filled with rage, completely blind to the red, swelling handprint on my own cheek. I lifted my head, my gaze meeting hers, my voice unnervingly calm. “The one who should be apologizing is Johnny Croft, not me. He brought up my father. And speaking of which, Sara, isn’t there something you should apologize for regarding what happened to my father?” A flicker of shock, of guilt, crossed her eyes. “If it weren’t for me back then, Dad would have died even sooner. Leo, I promised him I would take care of you for the rest of your life, but that was on the condition that you would never, ever hurt Johnny.” A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. I should have known better than to expect anything from her. The world suddenly tilted, and a wave of blackness washed over me. I felt myself falling backward, and then there was nothing.
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