Hazel POV:

The silence that fell over the table was absolute. Todd's mouth hung open, and Bianca's face was a mask of stunned disbelief. The air crackled with the aftershock of my words, so out of character for the quiet, compliant Hazel they all knew.

Just as Bianca was sputtering, trying to form a retort, a figure appeared behind me. "What the hell is going on here?"

Alex.

His voice was cold steel. He took in the scene-me, soaked in a red, sticky mess, and his friends looking like they'd been slapped. His eyes landed on Bianca, a flicker of concern crossing his face before turning back to me, his expression hardening into disapproval.

"What did you say?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

"She told you to go fuck yourself, Higgins!" Todd blurted out, a nervous laugh escaping him. "And she called Bianca cruel!"

Alex's glare was glacial. "Apologize to her. Now."

I almost laughed. "Apologize? For what? For telling the truth?"

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Don't make a scene, Hazel."

"A scene?" I echoed, my voice dangerously calm. "You mean like your girlfriend tripping me and having her friend douse me in a drink? That kind of scene?"

Bianca's eyes widened. "I did not! She's lying, Alex!"

Alex's grip tightened. "Apologize."

I looked from his angry face to Bianca's triumphant smirk. He would always believe her. He would always choose her. It was a pointless, pathetic little drama, and I was suddenly so tired of my role in it.

I pulled my arm from his grasp. "No."

His eyes widened in genuine shock. It was the first time I had ever defied him so directly.

Bianca seized the opportunity, her voice taking on a tearful quaver. "Alex, she's scaring me. Can we just go?"

He hesitated, torn for a fraction of a second. His gaze flickered between me and her. That flicker was everything. He was actually considering me. But habit, and years of obsession, won out. He let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine," he snapped, turning his back on me and wrapping a protective arm around Bianca. "Let's go."

As he led her away, I saw the briefest flash of relief on his face. He was glad to be escaping the confrontation, glad to be retreating to the familiar comfort of placating Bianca.

The party resumed around me, the incident already becoming a piece of juicy gossip. I was left standing alone, sticky and humiliated, but also strangely liberated.

Todd, emboldened by Alex's departure, decided to continue the fun. "Alright everyone, let's play a game! Never Have I Ever!"

A cheer went up from the table. I should have left. But something held me there. A need to see this farce through to its bitter end. I sat down in an empty chair, a silent observer.

The game started, filled with predictable boasts of promiscuity and wealth. Then, it was Bianca' s turn.

"Never have I ever," she said, her eyes finding mine across the table, "been with someone for their money." She took a delicate sip of her champagne, the challenge hanging in the air.

I didn't drink. I just stared back at her.

A few rounds later, it was Todd's turn. He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Never have I ever had a password that was someone else's birthday."

A few people drank. Then Todd looked directly at Alex's empty seat. "Higgins would have to drink to that one. Poor bastard's had Bianca's birthday as his password for everything since high school. 0-8-1-4."

August 14th. My blood ran cold. My own birthday was in August, too. August 18th. For four years, I'd seen Alex type in his password, always assuming that '0-8' was for me. Another delusion. Another piece of the fantasy I'd constructed, crumbling to dust.

Then it was Bianca's turn again. She was drunk now, her malice sharpened by alcohol.

"Never have I ever," she slurred, her smile venomous, "slept with a man who was in love with someone else." She looked directly at me. "Your turn to play, Hazel. Or are you going to sit there like a ghost all night?"

Something snapped. I reached across the table, took the shot glass in front of me, and downed the fiery liquid in one gulp. Then I picked up the deck of cards from the center of the table.

"My turn," I said, my voice clear and steady.

I drew a card. The question was simple. 'Who is the person you love most in this world?'

Everyone at the table smirked, looking at where Alex had been sitting. They all knew the answer. The pathetic Mrs. Higgins, obsessed with her husband.

I looked at the card, and then I looked at each of them, my gaze lingering on Bianca. I felt a slow, cold smile spread across my face.

"Dale Heath," I said, the name a sacred thing on my tongue. "The person I love most in this world is Dale Heath."

And then, looking directly at Bianca, I added, "I have never, not for a single second, loved Alexander Higgins."

Hazel POV:

The collective gasp around the table was sharp enough to cut the thick, smoke-filled air. Bianca's jaw dropped, her drunken smirk wiped clean off her face. Todd stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. My declaration, a blade of truth in their world of carefully constructed lies, had stunned them into silence.

Before anyone could recover, Alex returned. He must have just dropped Bianca off and come back. He took one look at the frozen tableau, at my defiant expression, and his face darkened.

"What did you just say?" he ground out, his voice a low growl that vibrated with barely suppressed fury.

He strode toward me, his presence overwhelming. "You're making a fool of yourself, Hazel. Of both of us."

He thought I was playing a game. A desperate, pathetic attempt to make him jealous. He couldn't conceive of a world where he wasn't the center of my universe.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing my arm again. This time, I didn't resist. Arguing here was pointless.

The ride back to the penthouse was a suffocating blanket of silence. Alex drove with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tightly I was surprised it didn't crack.

When we were finally inside the apartment, the door clicking shut behind us, he whirled on me.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "Humiliating me in front of my friends? Lying about not loving me? Was that supposed to make me jealous?"

He was so certain. So arrogant. He stepped closer, crowding me against the door, a faint, condescending smile on his lips. "It won't work, Hazel. I've told you before, these games are childish."

I didn't say anything. I just let him believe his own version of reality. It was easier. It didn't matter anymore.

His anger seemed to soften slightly at my silence, mistaking it for submission. "I told you I'd make things up to you," he said, his voice dropping. "I will. After Bianca's birthday, we'll go away. Just the two of us."

"Okay," I said, my voice flat.

He seemed satisfied with that. He leaned in, intending to kiss me, a victor claiming his prize. I turned my head, and his lips brushed against my cheek.

He froze. "What's wrong?"

"I'm tired, Alex," I murmured. It wasn't a lie. I was bone-deep weary of him, of this life, of the ghost I had been chasing.

His face hardened again. Rejection, even one so small, bruised his massive ego. "Fine," he snapped, stepping away. He went to the guest room and slammed the door. We hadn't shared a bed in over a year.

The next morning, he was gone before I woke up. He was always gone.

That afternoon, I got a call from his assistant, a frantic young woman named Clara.

"Mrs. Higgins," she said, her voice trembling. "Mr. Higgins collapsed in a meeting. He has a terrible fever. We're taking him to the hospital, but he's refusing to go. He keeps asking for you."

In the past, these words would have sent me into a blind panic. I would have dropped everything, rushed to his side, held his hand, and soothed his brow, grateful for the chance to be needed.

Clara continued, her voice filled with a desperate plea. "He always listens to you when he's like this, Mrs. Higgins. He gets these fevers sometimes, ever since the transplant, and you're the only one who can coax him to take his medicine."

I listened to her, my heart a placid, still pool. The Alex she was describing-the one who was vulnerable, who needed me-was a phantom. An illusion I had helped create.

"I'm sorry, Clara," I said, my voice calm and even. "I can't."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. "What? But... Mrs. Higgins, he's asking for you."

"That's his problem, not mine," I said. "From now on, his health is your responsibility. Or better yet, call Bianca Bernard. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to take care of him."

I hung up before she could reply.

Alex stumbled into the penthouse late that night, looking pale and haggard. His suit was rumpled, and his eyes were glassy with fever. He glared at me, his body swaying slightly.

"Clara called you," he accused, his voice hoarse. "She said you refused to come."

"That's right," I said, not looking up from the book I was reading.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "For four years, you've dropped everything at a moment's notice. You hover over me like I'm made of glass. And today... nothing?"

I finally closed my book and met his gaze. His confusion was so genuine, so absolute. He truly had no idea.

"You're right, Alex," I said. "For four years, I did. But people change."

He stared at me, a dawning horror in his fever-bright eyes. It was the look of a man realizing the ground beneath his feet was not as solid as he'd always believed.