Fae Ware POV:

I drifted in and out of consciousness, a blurry haze of pain and fragmented sounds. Voices. Glenn's. Karis's.

"...she just fell, Glenn, I swear!" Karis's voice, shrill and theatrical. "She's so clumsy! And she always causes so much trouble…"

"...Karis, darling, are you hurt?" Glenn's voice, anxious, laced with concern. "Did she drag you down with her?"

My vision swam. It wasn't an accident. It was her. She pushed me. She caused this. And Glenn, his blind devotion to her, his complete disregard for me, sickened me. He was covering for her, even now, when I was lying broken on the ground.

When I finally fully woke, I was in a hospital bed. My head throbbed, my ankle was in a cast, and my arm, the one Karis had caused to be cut, was bandaged. But the emotional pain, the crushing weight of their betrayal, dwarfed any physical discomfort.

A nurse bustled in, checking my vitals. "You're lucky, dear," she said, her voice cheerful. "Your fiancé, Mr. Christensen, has been so worried about you. He hasn't left your side. Such a devoted man!"

Fiancé. Devoted. The words tasted like ash in my mouth. "He's not my fiancé," I stated, my voice flat, emotionless. "And I don't want to see him."

The nurse blinked, surprised, but before she could respond, the door swung open. Glenn. He rushed in, his face etched with feigned concern.

"Fae! Oh, my love, you're awake!" He took my hand, his touch cold and unfamiliar. "I was so worried. What happened? The doctors couldn't figure it out. Just said you had a bad fall."

He was still lying. Still gaslighting. Still trying to control the narrative. My eyes narrowed. "What happened, Glenn?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "Or rather, who happened?"

He flinched, his gaze darting away. "Fae, don't be ridiculous. It was an accident. Karis was just so distraught. She told me you just... tripped."

His eyes were cold, calculating. He wasn't trying to comfort me; he was trying to assess my mental state, to see if I remembered anything. A flicker of triumph crossed his face when I didn't immediately refute his story.

"She felt so terrible," he continued, smoothly spinning his web of lies. "She wanted to come visit, but I told her you needed your rest. She' s so sensitive, you know."

He was a master manipulator. He was twisting the knife, making Karis the victim, and me the instigator. I remembered the way he used to defend me, to protect me from the harsh realities of the world. Now, he was protecting her, at my expense.

"Don't worry, Fae," he said, his voice saccharine sweet. "I'll take care of everything. Just focus on getting better. We'll leave all this unpleasantness behind us."

His patronizing tone, his dismissive words, solidified my resolve. I was done. Done with his lies, his manipulations, his betrayals. I would get better. I would leave. And he would never see me again.

I spent the next few days in the hospital, recovering, planning. Glenn visited every day, playing the part of the concerned lover. He brought flowers, chocolates, magazines. He talked about our future, our plans, as if nothing had happened. I listened, my face impassive, my heart cold. I was a ghost, a shell of my former self.

When I was finally discharged, Glenn was there, waiting with an expensive car and a forced smile. He took me home, but it no longer felt like home. It was a tomb, a monument to a love that had died a brutal death.

"Look, Fae," he said, his voice attempting enthusiasm. "I booked us a trip to Paris. A romantic getaway. Just us. We'll forget all about this silly misunderstanding."

He was still trying to buy my affection, to distract me with luxury. But the allure was gone. All I saw was the price tag, the cost of his deceit.

Later that week, a picture flashed on the news. Karis, receiving an award at a Juilliard ceremony. She was beaming, clutching a golden statuette. Rising Star Karis Hubbard Honored for Musical Achievement.

My stomach twisted. She was living my dream, basking in the spotlight that should have been mine. Glenn had kept me hidden, suppressed my talent, while she thrived. He was always so careful to keep my Juilliard attendance a secret, even from his most trusted staff. He always said he wanted me all to himself, that my talent was too precious to share. Now I knew the truth.

"She's really talented, isn't she?" Glenn said, his voice laced with admiration as he watched the news report. "A true prodigy. You know, you could have been like that, Fae, if you'd just focused more."

His words were a dagger, twisting in the wound. He was belittling my talent, my passion, while praising hers. He was rewriting my history, diminishing my worth.

"No," I said, my voice sharp, clear. "I'm done with music. It's not for me." I had said it before, to him, to myself, when he first started to control my life. But this time, it was a lie, a shield.

He looked at me, surprised, then a smug smile spread across his face. "That's my girl. Smart decision. You're too good for all that fuss. You belong with me."

His words, once again, were meant to control, to confine. But this time, they filled me with a fierce joy. He thought he was winning. He thought he had extinguished my flame. But he was wrong. He had just poured gasoline on it.

The next day, I called Dr. Petrova again. "I'm ready," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed excitement. "The European conservatory. I'm taking it."

"Excellent!" Dr. Petrova exclaimed. "I knew you had it in you, Fae. Your parents would be so proud."

Parents. The word hung in the air. I had no parents. I was an orphan. But the words, her belief in me, sparked a new hope. A new path.

Later that evening, I was making my final preparations for my departure. Glenn would be out, at another one of his "business meetings." As I was about to leave, the doorbell rang.

Glenn. He stood there, surprised, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He was back early. Too early. He looked me up and down, his gaze possessive. "Fae," he said, his voice laced with triumph. "Where are you going?"

Fae Ware POV:

"Just… for a walk," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had been so close to freedom.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "A walk? In that outfit? And with that bag?" He gestured to the small duffel I clutched, my passport tucked inside. He knew.

"I needed some fresh air," I said, my voice firmer, a desperate resolve hardening my spine.

He stared at me, his gaze piercing. A flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossed his face before being replaced by his usual charming facade. "You know," he said, stepping closer. "I've been thinking about what I said about your music. Maybe I was wrong. I'll support you, Fae. Always."

His words were a poisoned balm, meant to soothe and disarm. He was dangling a false carrot, sensing me slipping away.

Before I could reply, his phone buzzed. "It's my grandfather," he said, his voice curt. "Another crisis. I have to go." He looked at me, a silent plea in his eyes, as if expecting me to wait.

"Go," I said, my voice flat.

He hesitated, then turned and left. I watched him go, a wave of relief washing over me. This was my chance.

I ran. Out the door, down the driveway, not looking back. But as I reached the road to hail a cab, I saw her. Karis. She stood by the roadside, a predatory smile on her face, watching me go. Our eyes met, and a chill snaked down my spine.

"Leaving so soon, Fae?" she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "Running away again? Some things never change, do they, little foster girl?" Her words were a venomous dart. "You think you can just waltz out of here? Glenn is mine now. All mine. You are nothing but a discarded toy."

"And you," I said, my voice steady, "are a pathetic opportunist. He'll chew you up and spit you out, just like he did me."

Her smile faltered. "Oh, Fae," she whispered, "you have no idea what I'm capable of."

The tension was suffocating. I knew my escape was compromised. Defeated, I turned back toward the gilded cage I so desperately wanted to flee.

Later that evening, Glenn arranged an intimate dinner to celebrate my "return." He filled the mansion with flowers, candles, and my favorite gourmet dishes, trying to recreate the illusion of our perfect love.

Just as we were about to sit down, the doorbell chimed. It was Karis, looking forlorn, a single tear on her cheek.

"Glenn," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I just… I couldn't bear to be alone tonight. My apartment still feels so... violated." She glanced at me, a quick, triumphant glint in her eyes.

Glenn, ever the hero, immediately softened. "Karis, darling, come in. Of course. You're always welcome here."

He led her to the table he had set for me. My gaze fell on a delicate crystal vase filled with white roses. My favorite. He always used them as a symbol of his devotion. Now, they felt like a mockery.

"White roses, Fae," he said, his voice soft. "My wild rose."

"Don't," I said, pushing my chair back. "Don't call me that. Not anymore." I stood up, my gaze sweeping over the lavish table. "I'm not hungry," I said, turning to leave. "You two enjoy your… celebration."

I walked away, needing to be alone, needing to breathe. I retreated to my room, the sound of their hushed whispers following me down the hall.

Fae Ware POV:

A few minutes later, a soft knock came at my door. It was Glenn, holding a cup of chamomile tea. "I thought this might help you relax," he said, his voice a practiced whisper of tenderness. "I hate when we fight, Fae. Please, drink this. Let's not let this night be ruined."

He looked so sincere, his eyes filled with a familiar, pleading warmth. For a fleeting second, the old me wanted to believe him. I took the cup, my hand trembling slightly, and took a sip as he watched. The tea was warm, but a sharp, metallic aftertaste coated my tongue.

My head spun, the room blurring around me. My muscles stiffened, and my legs buckled. The teacup shattered on the floor. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. Panic, cold and raw, gripped me as the realization hit with the force of a physical blow.

He drugged me.

Glenn stood over me, his face impassive, the mask of concern gone. "You made this difficult, Fae," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "You should have just stayed put."

His phone rang, its shrill sound shattering the silence. He answered, his voice shifting to one of feigned panic. "What?! Karis? Kidnapped? By Darrion Anderson?!"

It was a performance. A signal. This was their plan all along.

Two burly men emerged from the shadows of the hallway. They were his security, men I’d seen a hundred times. Now, they looked at me with cold indifference.

"Take her," Glenn instructed. They hauled me to my feet, their rough hands bruising my arms.

As they dragged me towards the door, Glenn’s gaze fell to my neck. He snatched the silver locket, the one he had given me as a symbol of his "eternal loyalty." His brow furrowed in confusion. He had expected to see Karis's locket, a different design he had given her. In his haste, in his arrogance, he had forgotten which token belonged to which woman.

"This is Fae's locket," he muttered, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He had intended for me to be an anonymous body double, but the locket was proof of my identity.

For a moment, I thought he might stop. A sliver of hope that was brutally extinguished. His face hardened, his resolve returning. His reputation, his deal with his grandfather—that was all that mattered.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice strained. "She's still the body double. No one will know the difference."

He was still choosing her. Still sacrificing me. He was sending me to Darrion Anderson, a known monster, fully aware of who I was.

"This is for the best, Fae," Glenn whispered, his voice a chilling caress as the men pulled me away. "You'll understand someday."

He was still manipulating me, even as he sent me to my doom.

The men forced me into a waiting car. I saw Glenn one last time, standing at the entrance, my locket clutched in his hand. He was already erasing me. The car sped through the stormy night, carrying me towards a desolate dock and the monster who waited there.