Alex walked me downstairs, then insisted on coming up to sit for a while.

"Vivienne, I miss you so much."

The moment he stepped inside, his arms wrapped around me from behind.

His lips found my neck. My stomach turned.

His kisses trailed lower—he loved it when I was compliant.

I shoved him off hard. "You're disgusting."

He froze, then smiled like I was being cute. Throwing a tantrum.

He stroked my hair, gazing down at me. "Relax. Whatever I give you will be better than what Mia gets."

He pulled a red gift box from his bag.

A necklace. The limited-edition one I'd stumbled across online months ago.

I'd mentioned offhand that I loved it. He'd smiled and tapped my nose. "If my Vivienne wants it, I'll get it for her."

He set the box on the coffee table and reached for my clothes.

The kiss marks on my waist flashed through my mind. I twisted out of his grip.

Impatience flickered across his face. "What do you want from me?"

When I didn't answer, he tossed my shirt on the floor and headed for the bathroom.

"Never know what's good for you," he muttered.

I stared at the necklace and laughed bitterly.

In the photo Alex Gilbert had sent me—the one of Mia and Alex together—she'd been wearing this exact piece.

One of a kind. The only one in the world.

So Mia had worn it first. This was her castoff.

This was what he meant by "better."

He used to promise everything he gave me would be unique. That he'd never let me feel even a hint of neglect.

The bathroom door banged open. Alex stormed out clutching the razor, face twisted.

"Why is there a man's stuff in your bathroom?"

My pulse spiked, but I kept my voice steady. "I bought it for you."

He didn't buy it. He was paranoid like that.

"Bullshit. It's been used."

His voice dropped, dangerous. "I'm warning you. You belong to me. Only me."

He hurled the razor at the floor. It shattered, gouging a hole in the hardwood.

"You can't even afford rent without me, and you think you can find someone else? Who'd want you? Who'd take care of you like I do?"

He snatched my phone and scrolled through every app with practiced ease.

My chat histories were clean. He let it go—for now.

A vein throbbed at his temple. His fingers dug into my chin hard enough to bruise.

"Without me, you're nothing. So you'd better keep me happy."

"Otherwise, I have plenty of ways to teach you what happens when you disobey."

The door slammed behind him.

In the middle of the night, my phone buzzed.

A photo from Alex.

Clothes scattered across the floor. Two bodies tangled on a bed.

"You should learn from Mia how to keep a man. Stop being so ungrateful. Remember your place and stay where you belong."

I thought I'd gone numb. That he'd ground me down until nothing was left.

But my heart still ached in waves.

We'd met while I was studying abroad in Eldoria.

Dead of winter. He'd been scammed out of everything—no money, nowhere to go. I found him on the street in a thin coat, shaking from the cold.

I felt sorry for him. In a moment of weakness, I brought him back to my tiny rental.

He didn't remember anything then. Not his name. Not how to reach his family.

Besides supporting myself, I had to support him too.

My already tight finances stretched even thinner.

I thought about throwing him out more than once.

But every time I looked at those hollow eyes, that dazed, lost expression—my resolve crumbled.

During that time, I worked nonstop. Classes in the morning, three jobs at night.

My phone rang in the middle of the night.

Alex Gilbert's drunk voice slurred through the speaker. "I'm wasted. Can you come get me?"

I hesitated. Right—today was his birthday. But what did that have to do with me?

I was about to hang up when a waiter cut in. "Miss, could you pick him up? We're closing."

No choice. I dragged myself out of bed.

This wasn't the first time I'd done this—except back then, it was Alex Delgado.

We were still in Eldoria. He'd gotten drunk at some party.

I had a raging fever, but I forced myself to drive to the bar anyway.

The lights were hazy, the music deafening. I spotted him in a corner booth, a blonde draped across his lap, his hand wandering up her thigh.

I rushed over and grabbed his arm. He shoved me off.

"Stop annoying me."

The force sent me stumbling. My hand slammed into the table's edge—right onto a fruit knife.

Blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the carpet.

The wound burned. But it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

"Get lost!"

"I don't need you meddling!"

He threw back another gulp of liquor without so much as a glance my way.

I snapped back to the present. I'd already pulled up to the hotel. The moment I stepped out, I caught the staff whispering nearby.

"Stay clear of that drunk. Guy's been hugging a utility pole and sobbing for half the night."

"Vivienne… I'm sorry."

I froze, keys in hand.

That was Alex Delgado's voice.

I followed the sound and found him clinging to a pole, crying like a wronged child.

"It's my fault. I made you sad."

"Why was there a men's razor at your place? Why'd you lie to me?"

His words came out broken, slurred.

"Why didn't you get mad when I sent you that photo with Mia? Don't you love me anymore?"

"How did you change so much in one month…"

He clung to that pole like his life depended on it.

My chest tightened. My eyes stung.

I tilted my head back, trying to hold in the tears.

But Alex Gilbert appeared in front of me, gently wiping them away.

"You came. Thought you wouldn't." His voice softened. "Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing. Wind's strong tonight—got dust in my eyes."

I turned away from his touch.

He didn't call me out. Just smiled, patted my head, and draped his jacket over my shoulders.

"Is that so?"

His gaze drifted toward Alex Delgado, still sobbing and making a scene in the distance.

I pulled out my phone and texted Mia Summers: Alex Delgado's losing it on the street.

I found out later that Alex Gilbert had dragged him out of bed to drink together. He'd picked this hotel on purpose—the one Alex Delgado and Mia frequented.

Mia arrived fast. She had nothing but a towel wrapped around her, irritation written all over her face.

"Keep this up and I'm breaking off the engagement."

Alex Gilbert smirked. "What a show."

Only then did it click—he'd called me over this late just to watch this little show.

He handed me a cup; the chocolate cocoa warmed my hands.

Funny. Back then, discovering Alex was cheating also started with a drink.

The first time I caught him cheating was on my college graduation day.

I'd spent hours preparing all his favorite dishes, waiting for him to come home so we could celebrate together.

But unlike usual, he came back late. Very late.

Everything I'd made had gone cold.

He pushed open the front door, saw the decorations, and froze for a second—only then remembering what day it was.

He rubbed the back of his head and awkwardly handed me a cup of milk tea.

Matcha cocoa.

He'd forgotten I'm allergic to matcha.

A woman's intuition is sharp. My heart sank instantly.

Alex rushed into the bathroom, completely ignoring my mood.

That night, while he slept, I quietly unbuttoned his shirt.

Phone flashlight on. His waist, his neck—covered in kiss marks. Some fresh, some fading.

I felt like I'd fallen into an ice cave.

It was the middle of summer, yet I couldn't stop shaking.

I shook him awake, furious, demanding to know who left those marks.

Before he could even make an excuse, his phone lit up. An intimate message popped up: "Bro, last night was so much fun~"

I smashed his phone to pieces.

I cried, screaming at him—why? Why was he doing this to me? Why cheat?

I was hysterical, a madwoman smashing everything in sight. Pathetic as a clown.

He knelt at my feet, sobbing, swearing it would never happen again.

Over and over, he kowtowed, saying he was wrong.

I thought he would change.

After that, I became paranoid.

If he came home even a little late, I couldn't help but interrogate him.

And he grew more impatient. He came home less and less, always carrying the scent of unfamiliar perfume.

I didn't know how many lovers he had. Those women never showed their faces.

Until I saw it with my own eyes—him making out with a blonde in a bar.

I told him I wanted to break up.

He looked down at me, sneered. "Break up? I don't agree. You think you can just leave because you want to?"

He stroked my cheek gently, then roughly dragged me onto the bed.

His voice was demonic, breath hot against my ear. "You think you can leave?"

He pulled a USB drive from his bag and waved it in front of my face.

"Be a good girl and stay my lover. I promise you're the one I love most—the others won't affect your position."

"Otherwise... this is full of our intimate videos. Want them leaked?"

He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew all the smoke directly into my face.

I choked, coughing violently.

His gaze was ice. "In this life, don't even think about leaving me. You have no other choice. You can only choose me."

"If you still want your reputation, endure it. Otherwise..."

He shook the USB drive.

To punish me for mentioning a breakup, he locked me in the house for a month.

I lived without daylight in that room.

My heart hurt until it split open. My tears ran dry.

I didn't know when he'd filmed those videos.

Every intimate moment between us—turned into leverage to threaten me.

During that month, I couldn't eat. Sometimes just thinking about what was in those videos made me so sick I wanted to throw up.