Briana Bond POV:

Three days. Three days I lay in that hospital bed, my leg a constantly throbbing inferno. Only the new intern nurses, hurried and careless, ever came to change my bandages. Their movements were rough, the antiseptic a fresh sting. They simply cleaned the wound, smeared on some generic ointment, and moved on. It did nothing. My body, already ravaged by the cold and hunger, trembled with silent agony each time they touched me. My fingers, white-knuckled, gripped the thin bedsheets until my knuckles ached.

One afternoon, Gabriel burst in, his face etched with a familiar mixture of anger and frustration. He watched the intern roughly clean my wound, his jaw tightening. With a sudden growl, he snatched the antiseptic bottle from her hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He looked at me, his eyes softening slightly. "Why don't you ever cry out? Why don't you scream?"

He remembered the old Briana, the one who would whimper and cling, demanding comfort. The one who relied on his touch, his soothing words. That Briana was gone. This new Briana, the one who now inhabited my damaged body, preferred to suffer in silence, her pain a private battle.

He gently, almost tentatively, dabbed at my wound, his touch unexpectedly tender. He was waiting. I knew he was. Waiting for me to break, to beg, to revert to the girl he knew, the girl he believed he could control. He would give me another chance, I knew it. He would keep me as his fiancée, his possession.

I turned my head away from him, towards the window, where the weak winter sun cast long, cold shadows. "I'm sorry, Gabriel," I whispered, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I won't trouble you anymore." A small, bitter smile touched my lips. "If the engagement is an inconvenience, I can speak to Emmanuel about dissolving it."

His face, which had softened momentarily, hardened instantly. "Is this another one of your games, Briana?" he snarled, his eyes blazing with renewed fury. "Are you trying to manipulate me again? Don't be ridiculous!" He threw the antiseptic bottle against the wall, the plastic shattering with a sharp crack. Then he stormed out, slamming the door shut, leaving me alone once more.

A faint, weary chuckle escaped my lips. Games? No, Gabriel. No more games. Only the truth.

The next morning, Emmanuel Robbins, Gabriel' s mentor and the only true father figure I had ever known, stood in my doorway. The sight of him, his kind eyes filled with worry, brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. He wasn't my blood relation, but he had always treated me with unwavering love and care, a stark contrast to Gabriel' s transactional affection. My greatest fear, when I was lost in the snow, hadn't been death but the thought of him worrying, of him grieving. He had taken me in when I had nothing, nurtured me, promised me he would always support me. Seeing his gentle smile now, I swallowed down all the pain, all the despair. I wouldn't let him worry. I wouldn't let him see how truly broken I was.

But his smile vanished when he saw my leg. His face turned ashen, then purple with rage. "What is the meaning of this, Doctor?" he thundered, his voice shaking with fury, aimed at Cory who had just walked in. Emmanuel's cane, usually a steady companion, crashed against the tiled floor, a thunderous sound that echoed through the room. Emmanuel Robbins, even in his old age, was a force to be reckoned with. He had built an empire, crushed rivals, and commanded respect with a single glare.

Cory, the arrogant doctor, visibly flinched, his face paling. He stammered, "Mr. Robbins! I... I assure you, there must be a mistake! I've been diligent, truly! She simply refuses treatment, always trying to gain sympathy, you see."

Emmanuel's eyes narrowed, seeing through the flimsy lie. He raised his cane, bringing it down with a swift, brutal force that sent Cory sprawling to the floor. "Liar!" he roared, his voice trembling with indignation.

Just then, Candace, attracted by the commotion, rushed into the room. "Oh, dear Mr. Robbins!" she cried, rushing to Emmanuel's side. "What's happened? Has Briana upset you again? She can be so difficult, I know, but please, calm yourself!" She tried to intercede, to play her usual manipulative game.

Emmanuel' s hand, the one that wasn't gripping the cane, shot out, delivering a sharp, stinging slap across Candace' s face. It cracked loud in the silent room. "Don't you dare speak of Briana like that!" he bellowed, his eyes blazing. "You and your conniving brother are nothing but liars, both of you! I know what you've done! I will see you both punished!" His fury was so absolute, so commanding, that no one dared to move, no one dared to intervene. Candace stood frozen, a crimson bruise blooming on her cheek, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Just then, Gabriel, drawn by the shouts, appeared in the doorway. He took in the scene: his mentor, a picture of righteous fury, Candace clutching her bleeding lip, and me, still and silent on the bed, watching it all unfold. Candace immediately burst into theatrical tears, throwing herself into Gabriel' s arms. "Oh, Gabriel!" she sobbed, "I don't know what Briana could have said to upset Mr. Robbins so terribly! But it's alright, truly. You don't have to worry about me, no matter how much they hurt me."

Gabriel' s face turned glacial. He held Candace close, his eyes burning with a cold, protective rage. "Briana," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You are not fit to even stand in Candace's shadow. And anyone who dares to hurt her, will answer to me."

Briana Bond POV:

Gabriel' s eyes, still burning with cold fury, turned on me. "Will you ever change, Briana?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Will you ever stop being this… problem?" He took a step closer, his eyes challenging. "You know, if I truly cast you out, you wouldn't survive a day outside my family's protection." He paused, letting the threat hang heavy in the air. Then, he delivered the final, devastating blow. "The engagement is off. Permanently."

Emmanuel, still trembling with anger, staggered back, his face ashen. He pointed a shaking finger at Gabriel. "You fool!" he rasped, his voice full of disbelief and heartbreak. "You ungrateful, blind fool! How could you forget everything they did for you?" But before he could finish, before he could say another word, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the floor.

Panic, raw and visceral, tore through me. "Emmanuel!" I screamed, instinctively trying to rise from the bed. My leg, still a raw wound, screamed back in protest. I stumbled, collapsing back onto the mattress, fresh agony ripping through me. Tears, hot and desperate, streamed down my face. "Please, Gabriel," I choked out, reaching for him. "Let me go to him! Please!" My tears mingled with the fresh blood seeping from my wound, creating dark, ugly splotches on the pristine white sheets.

Gabriel looked at me, his eyes filled with absolute loathing. He roughly pushed my outstretched hand away, as if my touch were poison. "You disgust me, Briana," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Look what you've done. You've made him sick! You're despicable!" He turned away, his back a cold, unyielding wall, and followed the doctors who were rushing to Emmanuel' s side. "Keep her locked in here," he ordered his security detail, his voice cold and devoid of any human warmth. "Don't let her leave this room."

Soon after, Gabriel's parents arrived, their faces grim. His father, a formidable man with a perpetually stern expression, immediately turned on Gabriel. "Gabriel!" he bellowed, his voice filled with a familiar fury. "What is the meaning of this? If Emmanuel doesn't recover, you will face the consequences!"

His mother, a refined woman with sharp, calculating eyes, quickly stepped in, placing a calming hand on her husband's arm. "Dear, please. Not now."

But Candace, still nursing her bruised lip, seized the moment. "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Payne," she began, her voice quivering with false distress. "It was all so sudden. Briana... she caused such a fuss, and Gabriel, he just said a few words, and then Mr. Robbins collapsed. I truly believe she brings chaos wherever she goes."

Gabriel' s father' s face hardened, his eyes turning to ice. "This orphan," he muttered, his voice laced with disdain, "has brought nothing but trouble since she stepped foot in this house."

His mother scoffed, her lip curling. "She's become so arrogant since we took her in," she sneered, her gaze sweeping over me with contempt. "She thinks she's one of us."

Gabriel flinched, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. "Mother, Father," he interjected, his voice tight. "Let's not forget what her parents did for us."

His father cut him off sharply. "That was one act of kindness, Gabriel! It doesn't mean we should tolerate her endless dramatics. She's impudent, reckless, and completely unsuitable for our family. Cancel the engagement. Send her away."

Gabriel initially recoiled, the words "cancel the engagement" a jarring blow. He only wanted to scare me, to make me see reason. He never truly wanted to cast me out. The thought of me, injured and alone, without his protection, sent a strange pang through his chest.

But Candace, sensing his hesitation, whispered urgently in his ear. "Gabriel, don't upset your parents. There's plenty of time. We can send her abroad for her 'treatment,' let her cool down. She's become too dependent on you, that's why she's so spoiled. This will teach her some independence. We can always reconsider after Mr. Robbins recovers."

His mother' s eyes lit up. "Yes! That's an excellent idea, Candace! We'll make arrangements immediately." Both his parents looked eager, almost desperate, to get rid of me.

Gabriel looked at Candace, a wave of gratitude washing over him. He squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Candace," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "Even after everything, you still think of her."

Candace offered him a sweet, angelic smile. "She just makes poor judgments, Gabriel. I don't hold it against her."

The next few days felt like a suffocating blur. I was confined to the hospital room, a prisoner in my own pain. No one visited except the hurried nurses. I spent most of my time staring at the ceiling or aimlessly scrolling through my phone. My photo gallery was a painful testament to my past: hundreds of pictures of Gabriel and me. In the beginning, it was just us, happy and in love, or so I believed. Then, Candace started appearing in every photo, a constant shadow in our lives.

I then navigated to my social media accounts. Every post, every caption, every carefully curated image revolved around him, a desperate plea for his affection. The comments, even from strangers, mocked my blatant obsession. My adoration, my desperation, was public fodder. I let out a bitter, joyless laugh. Obsessed. They weren't wrong.

I shook my head, my eyes burning. There was no point in keeping them. No point in clinging to a past that was so utterly broken. With a decisive swipe, I hit the 'delete account' button. Everything-all those carefully preserved memories, all those desperate proclamations of love-vanished into the digital ether. It was a strange, chilling sense of emptiness. And a profound, unexpected freedom.