Chapter 1

Just when I had finally gathered all the evidence to report my high school bully, Tiffany Sterling,

Julian Miller, who had supposedly been bullied alongside me, took the file from my hands. He pulled me into his arms with absolute tenderness.

"Chloe, let me handle this. You should put all this behind you and start a new life."

I sobbed against his chest, truly believing I had found my savior.

Until three years later, in a gated luxury neighborhood, I saw Tiffany slap him across the face, wearing the exact same arrogant smirk from years ago.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Julian bowed his head with twisted devotion, knelt down, and kissed the toe of her designer heel.

The moment I saw Tiffany again, my chest seized. My entire body broke into an uncontrollable tremble.

She was just as she had been back then—gorgeous, haughty, and untouchable.

Except she shouldn't have been here!

I hid behind a stone pillar across the street, biting down on my lip until I tasted blood.

A man stepped out of the luxury car parked opposite her.

He walked over to Tiffany, his head submissively lowered.

He let her run her manicured fingers slowly through his hair, down across his lips, and resting at his throat.

The next second, her hand cracked across his face.

"Did you enjoy that?"

I heard Tiffany ask.

The man didn't utter a word. Instead, he dropped to his knees with quiet reverence.

He kissed the tip of her shoe.

Like a fanatic worshipping his goddess.

I stared at the scene in sheer disbelief, gasping for air.

Why was Julian kneeling at Tiffany's feet? Why was he kissing her shoes?

And why was Tiffany here when she was supposed to be behind bars?

My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian's number. My racing pulse pounded in my ears.

"Hello? Where are you?"

On the other end of the line, Julian's voice was shaking even harder than mine.

"Chloe, I'm tied up with something right now. I can't talk. I'll call you when I'm done."

He hung up. I stumbled out of the gated community.

It was mid-summer, yet a bone-chilling cold swept over me.

Cars zipped past in a blur. I felt trapped inside a soundproof bubble, cut off from the entire world.

Before I collapsed, everything faded to black.

When I woke up, the ER doctor told me it was a mix of severe shock and heat exhaustion. Once the IV fluids finished dripping, my head cleared up a bit.

There were still no messages from Julian.

I took an Uber home and tore through our apartment like a madwoman, ripping through all of Julian's things.

His closet was packed with our matching couple's hoodies. Next to his pillow sat a plush doll printed with my face.

In his desk drawer were my medical charts and two thick journals filled with detailed notes he had kept on my therapy sessions.

Page after page, packed with meticulous care.

I slumped to the floor and broke down into agonizing sobs.

I had just found endless proof of his love for me, but all it really proved was how terrifyingly well he had faked it.

Finally, tucked away in the deepest corner of the closet, I found his old high school backpack.

It was stained with dried paint, ink, and even blood that bullies had maliciously poured over it years ago.

Inside, there was only an old iPhone 6.

With trembling fingers, I tapped the screen open. There was only one contact saved in the entire phone.

The contact name read: "My Untouchable Goddess."

Tiffany was his goddess. Then what the hell was I?

Tears blurred my vision as I scrolled through five years' worth of chat logs.

As the sun sank below the horizon, I snapped pictures of every crucial message with my phone.

During those few hours, every word I read felt like a serrated blade carving into my heart.

Sitting in the fading twilight, one realization became crystal clear to me: unbearable agony could turn into bone-deep, relentless hatred!