I spent the entire day at the city dump.

My hands were cut and scraped, my nails were caked with filth, and my clothes were soaked in foul-smelling garbage juice. The workers stared at me like I was insane—a woman frantically digging through a mountain of trash.

At dusk, I finally found it, buried in a pile of rotting food.

But the picture of my grandmother was gone.

I opened the locket ring with trembling hands. The tiny photograph that had been inside was missing. It was the only color photo of her as a young woman, my last anchor in this world.

It felt like a knife had been twisted in my heart. I knelt in the garbage, sobbing in despair.

I ran back to the hospital like a madwoman.

Isabella was just being discharged. When she saw me, filthy and reeking, a triumphant smirk crossed her lips. The nurses around us stared—a woman who smelled like a landfill.

"Find your ring?" she asked loudly, drawing more attention. "About that picture, though..."

"What did you do with the picture?" I lunged at her, grabbing her shoulders.

"Tore it up. Flushed it down the toilet," she said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "Last night. Tore it into tiny, tiny pieces. I guarantee you'll never find it. Looking at that old hag's face was disgusting anyway."

My sanity snapped.

SLAP!

I hit her with every ounce of strength I had left. Isabella staggered back, a bright red handprint blooming on her perfect cheek.

"Rose!" Dante's voice, full of shock and fury, echoed down the hall. "What are you doing?!"

He stormed over and shoved me so hard I nearly fell. He rushed to Isabella's side, gently stroking her face.

"How can you be so vicious?!" Dante glared at me, his eyes filled with disgust and disappointment. "Isabella is still recovering! Are you trying to kill her? My God, what have you become?"

Vicious? He was calling me vicious?

Watching Dante fuss over Isabella, seeing the judgmental stares of the people around us, and catching the victorious glint in Isabella's eyes, I started to laugh.

"Dante, that's enough," I said, my voice unnervingly calm. "You have no idea what real viciousness is. But you're about to find out."

I turned and walked away, my fingers clenched around the recovered ring. The photo was gone forever, but I had made my decision.

If Isabella wanted to play games, to destroy me piece by piece, then I would play.

I would make everyone see her for what she was—a vicious high-school bully. I would make her feel what it's like to be despised, to be condemned.

I would show her what true viciousness looked like.

Back in my car, I dialed my colleague, Sarah. She was an investigative reporter who specialized in exposing the dark underbelly of society.

"Sarah, I need a favor. Can you help me find some people...?" My voice was choked with tears, but my words were firm.

There was a pause on the other end. "Rose, are you sure about this? The Blackwood and Rossi families are not people you want to cross."

"I'm sure," I said, gripping the steering wheel. "Compared to what she did to me, this is nothing."

Tomorrow, at my wedding, the game would reach its climax.

(Dante's POV)

The wedding day was bright and sunny.

The Blackwood family's private estate was a fairy-tale scene of white roses and crystal chandeliers. The guests, Chicago's elite, were all waiting for the wedding of the century.

Dante stood at the altar in a custom tuxedo, handsome and imposing. Marco was beside him as his best man, occasionally glancing toward the entrance.

"When is the bride arriving?" a guest whispered.

"Should be any minute," Dante replied, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.

Just then, a professional media crew appeared at the gates. Cameramen, a host with a microphone—it looked like a live broadcast.

"What the hell is this?" Dante frowned.

Security stopped them, but the lead producer held up a document. "We were invited by Miss Rose herself to cover the wedding live. She said it was a special surprise."

Dante looked uneasy.

He had planned to "punish" Rose, but live-streaming the wedding... that was something else entirely. It could ruin her life.

He was about to step in, but Isabella stopped him with a smile. "Rose must have her reasons for this. We should respect her wishes, don't you think?"

Isabella was thrilled. She couldn't wait for the whole world to see Rose fall apart.

Dante hesitated, then figured she had a point. Besides, he'd make it up to Rose. He'd give her enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life.

The crew quickly set up cameras around the venue, including a massive LED screen in front of the main table. "For a slideshow of the happy couple," the producer explained.

The minutes ticked by. The scheduled start time came and went, but Rose was nowhere to be seen.

Dante pulled out his phone and called her. Voicemail. He tried again. Same thing.

"What is she playing at?" Marco muttered.

Guests began to whisper. The atmosphere grew awkward.

"Maybe the bride had an emergency," Isabella said, feigning concern. She was actually thrilled. In her mind, Rose was too broken to show up. Being jilted at the altar in front of everyone would make Dante hate Rose forever.

After another ten minutes, just as everyone's patience was wearing thin, the large screen flickered to life.

At first, the guests quieted down, expecting a romantic video.

But the first voice that came through the speakers made Dante and Marco's blood run cold.

"Rose? She's so dumb it's almost cute. She still thinks the man holding her every night is me."

The entire venue fell silent.

Guests exchanged shocked and confused glances. Don Blackwood's face was as dark as a thundercloud.

"Goddamn it..." Dante hissed, trying to get to the control booth, but a few large men who looked like security blocked his path.

The recording continued, playing every vicious word from their conversation at the club.

The guests' expressions shifted from confusion to shock, then to disgust. Some of the women were already whispering, casting contemptuous looks at the three of them at the altar.

"Oh my god, so that's what happened..."

"That's just cruel..."

"They played that poor girl for a fool..."

But that was only the beginning.

After the recording, a video began to play. The first shot was of St. Mary's Academy. Then, the camera focused on a hallway.

Isabella appeared on screen, looking younger but with a cruel smirk on her face. She and a few other girls were cornering a thin, scared-looking teenage Rose.

"Look at the charity case, can't even afford lunch," the younger Isabella sneered. "And you want to compete with me for prom queen? In your dreams!"

The next scene made the entire room gasp.

Isabella slapped Rose across the face. "Remember your place, you trash from the slums!"

Video after video played, showing Isabella locking Rose in a bathroom, cutting her hair, putting thumbtacks on her chair, spitting in her water... each clip a testament to her cruelty.

The guests were stunned.

"How is this possible...?" someone whispered.

"I thought Isabella was known for her charity work."

"So this is what she's really like..."

The final video showed Isabella looking directly into the hidden camera, her smile vicious and triumphant. "Rose Rivera, you'll never be anything in this life. I'll make you remember that next to me, you are nothing!"

The video froze on her twisted face. The hall was dead silent.

Dante stood frozen at the altar, his fists clenched, veins popping in his neck. He finally understood. He'd been played, manipulated by this woman's perfect facade.

Marco's face was sheet-white. He realized the colossal mistake they had made.

And Isabella, the woman who had always been so perfectly composed, was now completely exposed. Her face flushed and paled. Any denial would be useless against the mountain of evidence.

The trap they had laid for Rose had just snapped shut on them.