Chapter 4

That night, back in my rented apartment, I threw up until I couldn't breathe.

On my phone was a message from Dean.

【Yvonne, I've taken the video down and cleared your name. Stop putting yourself through this.】

I looked at the utility knife on the edge of the sink, picked it up, and my whole body was shaking.

I didn't want to die.

But in that moment I was just so tired.

Too tired to know how to keep living.

That was when the door slammed open.

Dean rushed in and wrenched the knife out of my hand.

"Yvonne! Have you lost your mind?"

His eyes were full of terror.

"Isn't this what you all wanted? For me to get worse, crazier, more pathetic, so your little bet counts as a win."

His face went pale with panic, and he gripped my shoulders.

"That's not what I wanted."

"Marry me. I'll give you the grandest wedding there is."

"From now on, I'll love you properly."

I looked at the seriousness in his eyes, and I suddenly thought of the way he'd held me three years ago.

Back then I'd been thin as a sheet of paper.

He'd said, Yvonne, don't be afraid.

But only now did I understand. Some people pull you out of the mud.

Not to save you. Only so that one day you can fall even deeper.

His eyes reddened.

"Yvonne, trust me just once. Just once."

I looked into his eyes and couldn't tell whether the sincerity there was real or not.

I said nothing, and moved my gaze off his face.

He pulled me into his arms and said he'd never let me get hurt again.

That night, once he was asleep, I picked up his phone.

I opened the chat history and scrolled through it, line by line.

【On the wedding day, the second that big screen lights up, think she'll faint from crying right there?】

【Dean, are you really going to announce at the wedding how she got played?】

【Of course. The final step of the bet. She has to completely fall apart.】

I stared at those lines, tears dropping onto the screen one after another.

So even this wedding was a lie.

His so-called making it up to me was nothing but a way to drag me onto the final trial stand.

I bit my lip and copied every chat message and the full video onto my own phone.

On the wedding day, the seats were packed with guests.

The officiant smiled and asked:

"Miss Harding, do you take Mr. Barnes to be your husband?"

Dean held out his hand to me, his eyes certain of the win.

"Yvonne, answer me."

I looked at the hand reaching toward me and said, calmly:

"No, I don't."

The whole room erupted.

The smile on Dean's face froze in an instant.

"Yvonne, what are you saying?"

"Since today's a wedding, let everyone see exactly how we ended up here."

I pressed the remote, and the big screen lit up.

Dean stared at the screen, the color draining from his face bit by bit.