---- Chapter 4 Elaina Higgins POV: The next few days were a masterclass in emotional manipulation. Derek was relentlessly attentive. He filled the house with my favorite flowers, cooked my favorite meals, and left little notes professing his undying love and regret all over the apartment. He slept on the couch outside the guest room door, a self-imposed penance meant to show me how much he was suffering. It was a brilliant performance. A younger, more naive Elaina might have fallen for it. But something inside me had fundamentally shifted. | was no longer looking at him through the soft-focus lens of love. | was seeing him with a horrifying, crystal clarity. | played my part, too. | was quiet, withdrawn, allowing him to interpret my silence as grief he could eventually overcome. | let him believe he had a chance to fix this. In reality, | was moving pieces into place, preparing for my escape. | started by quietly packing. Not clothes, but memories. | went through years of photo albums, letters, and mementos. Each one was a fresh stab of pain. A picture of us on our first trip to Paris, his arm wrapped around me, both of us beaming. A Valentine's card where he had written, "You are my forever." ---- | didn't discard them. | packed them carefully into a box. He would find them after | was gone. | wanted him to see what he had destroyed. My most precious possessions-a few pieces of my mother's jewelry, her worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice," and the box containing her wedding dress-| packed into a separate suitcase that | hid in the back of my closet. One afternoon, while Derek was at a "critical board meeting," my phone buzzed with a friend request on a social media app | rarely used. The profile name was anonymous, but the picture was a selfie of Cory Pennington, her lips puckered into a kiss, with Derek' s sleeping face visible on the pillow behind her. My breath hitched. My finger hovered over the 'decline' button, but a morbid curiosity, a need to see the full extent of the battlefield, made me press 'accept'. It was a deluge. A flood of photos and videos filled my screen. Cory and Derek laughing in a convertible, his hand on her thigh. Cory and Derek kissing on a yacht, the city skyline sparkling behind them. Cory and Derek in bed, tangled in white sheets, his eyes closed in what looked like ecstasy. Each image was a meticulously aimed arrow designed to pierce my heart. My hands shook so hard | could barely hold the phone. | clicked on a video. They were in a hotel room, champagne ---- glasses on the nightstand. Cory was behind the camera. "Tell me you love me," she cooed. Derek, shirtless and smiling lazily, looked at the camera. "You know | do, you little troublemaker." The video ended, but his voice echoed in my head. A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. He had never called me a troublemaker. He called me his anchor, his peace. It seemed he wanted a storm instead. Then, the phone rang. A video call from the same anonymous account. My heart hammered against my ribs. | knew | shouldn't answer. | knew it was a trap. But | had to. | had to face the monster he had created. | answered, my face carefully blank. Cory' s perfectly made-up face filled the screen. She was in a car, the leather seats a familiar shade of cream. Derek' s car. "Oh, hil" she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Oops, | must have called the wrong person." "What do you want, Cory?" | asked, my voice surprisingly steady. Her smile widened. "| just wanted to see the face of the woman who thinks she's marrying Derek Gomez. Newsflash, sweetie. He' s with me right now. We just had the most amazing lunch. He can't get enough of me." ---- From off-screen, | heard his voice, muffled but unmistakable. "Who are you talking to, babe?" Cory giggled and angled the phone. For a second, | saw him in the driver's seat, a black cashmere sweater | had bought him for his birthday stretched across his broad shoulders. He glanced at the phone, and his eyes widened in horror when he recognized my face. "What the hell, Cory?" he hissed, reaching for the phone. But she was too quick. She turned the camera back to her triumphant face. "He told me all about you, you know," she purred, her eyes glinting with malice. "He said you're like a fragile little bird he has to take care of. He's tired of it, Elaina. He wants a woman, not a charity case." Her words were a direct hit, targeting my deepest insecurity with surgical precision. "He says he loves you," she sneered, "but what he really loves is the idea of saving you. But you know what? He's with me. Right now. And last night. And the night before that. What does that tell you?" | couldn't breathe. The room was spinning. My hand flew to my chest, trying to physically hold my shattering heart together. "So, are you still going to marry him?" she taunted. "Are you really that desperate?" ---- | hung up. | dropped the phone and sank to my knees, a raw, guttural sob tearing from my throat. It wasn't just pain anymore. It was humiliation. It was the complete and utter demolition of my self-worth. | cried until | was empty, until my throat was raw and my eyes were swollen shut. | cried for the woman | used to be, the one who believed in forever. | cried for the love | had given so freely, only to have it trampled into the dirt. And then, | stopped. A cold, clear thought rose from the ashes of my despair. This is the last time. This is the last tear | will ever shed for Derek Gomez. He wants a show? I'll give him the performance of a lifetime.