Zara knocked on the door, her hand steady, her expression unreadable.

From inside, a voice rang out, casual and amused. “Come in.”

As she stepped inside, Cassidy slid off Landon’s lap with a lazy smirk. She let out a light chuckle, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“So, this is Zara? Cute name. Doesn’t really suit you, though.” Her voice was drenched in sarcasm, her gaze sweeping over Zara like she was nothing more than a cheap imitation. “She kinda looks like me, but honestly? She looks like a clown.”

For a split second, Zara hesitated, caught off guard by Cassidy’s sheer audacity. The chandelier overhead cast a warm glow on Cassidy’s flawless features, accentuating her striking presence.

With every move she made, she seemed to command attention. When she finally locked eyes with Zara, it wasn’t curiosity or interest. It was pure condescension.

Dressed in a sleek black pearl gown, Cassidy was a vision of elegance. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, a silky frame to the smug satisfaction in her expression.

She tilted her head, her smirk deepening.

“That kid in your belly,” she mused, her voice sugary sweet, but dripping with bitterness, “do you think it’ll even turn out decent? You’ve never been able to keep a single one all these years, so why bother trying now?”

Her soft chuckle that followed was anything but kind.

“A hen that can’t lay eggs,” she added, stretching lazily in her seat, clearly relishing the tension she was stirring.

Landon’s jaw tightened at her words. His sharp gaze cut toward Cassidy as his temper flared. “Watch your mouth. She’s my girl.”

But Cassidy wasn’t the least bit intimidated. She rolled her eyes, tossing a bored glance his way before shifting her attention back to Zara. Her playful smirk never faltered, even as she delivered the next blow.

“So tell me, Landon,” she drawled, “since you left, why’d you come back?”

She sighed dramatically, then let out an amused chuckle. “Felt bad for you, that’s all. But I’m over it now. I’ll be leaving.”

As she passed Zara, she reached out and tapped her lightly on the shoulder, her smile as arrogant as ever.

“Hey, side chick, if you know what’s good for you, you should just disappear.” Her words hung in the air like smoke, but she didn’t wait for a response from Zara.

She turned on her heel, her radiance filling the room one last time before she disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her perfume.

Flustered and still reeling, Landon barely had time to speak before his eyes landed on Cassidy’s new companion—a man whose hand was now resting securely around her waist.

His gaze was anything but casual, lingering on Cassidy with possession and amusement. Landon’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his expression darkening.

Seeing Cassidy, confident and untouchable, set something off inside him. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiled over.

“Fine! You’ve got guts! You really do!” he snapped, his voice low with fury. “If you’re that capable, then don’t ever let me see you again!”

Cassidy barely spared him a glance. Her smirk widened, her expression cool and dismissive as she intertwined her fingers with the man beside her.

Landon’s fury deepened, his chest rising and falling in sharp breaths, but he didn’t look back—not at Cassidy, not at Zara.

With one last glare, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the Emerald Lounge, leaving Zara standing alone in the middle of the room.

Zara’s lips pressed together in a tight line.

But in this world, if you didn’t fight back, you got trampled.

No one crossed a line without consequences.

Cassidy, draped in her designer gown, was a striking figure of power and cruelty. She picked up a glass of red wine, swirling it leisurely before raising it to her lips. Her eyes flickered with something wicked as she turned toward Zara.

Then, without hesitation, she tilted the glass forward.

The deep crimson liquid splashed over Zara’s white dress.

A slow, satisfied grin stretched across Cassidy’s face.

“Clown, get lost,” she sneered, voice laced with condescension. “If I ever see you with him again, I won’t let you off so easily.”

Laughter erupted around them, murmurs of amusement rippling through the room as onlookers delighted in Zara’s humiliation.

The whispers were like sharp daggers, cutting—mocking her for being the woman who couldn’t even hold onto her title as Landon's girlfriend.

Zara stood still, feeling the warm liquid seep into the fabric of her dress. She could feel the weight of their stares, their amusement at her expense.

But she didn’t flinch.

Instead, with a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her hand and slapped Cassidy across the face.

The sound echoed like a crack of thunder, cutting through the laughter, and silencing the room.

Cassidy’s face turned red with shock and fury. Before she could react, Zara’s voice sliced through the tension—calm, steady but deadly.

“You’d better keep your mouth shut,” she said coldly. “I don’t want that man anymore. If you love picking up trash, then take good care of it.”

Cassidy’s fingers trembled near her cheek, but Zara didn’t wait for her to recover.

She turned on her heel and walked out, stepping into the freezing night air. The cold wrapped around her instantly, but it was nothing compared to the ice in her heart.

She was done.

But the night wasn’t done with her.

As she made her way home, a Maserati sped past, splashing dirty water all over her.

Zara barely had time to react before the passenger window rolled down. Cassidy was leaning lazily against the frame, that same smug smile playing on her lips.

“Side chick,” she called out, voice laced with amusement, “consider that your punishment for slapping me.”

Her eyes gleamed as she tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Oh, and this car—do you recognize it?”

Zara blinked, wiping the water from her face as Cassidy continued, her tone dripping with satisfaction.

“I heard that on your birthday, he gave you a Maserati, right?” Cassidy let the words linger before delivering the final blow. “Well, let me break it to you. On your birthday, he wasn’t even there. He was in the U.S. with me.”

She let that sink in before her lips curved into a smirk. “As for this car? He bought two. Mine’s the top-spec model.”

She let out a slow breath, watching Zara with barely concealed mockery. “Yours? Just a sponsor’s hand-me-down.”

With a final, triumphant glance, Cassidy rolled the window up and sped off, her laughter lingering in the night like a cruel echo.

Zara wasn’t heartbroken over the red wine that had soaked her dress, nor was she bothered by the humiliation she’d endured earlier that night.

Honestly, she could care less about any of it.

What stung—what really stung—was the realization that people could trample all over the last bits of sincerity you had, like it meant absolutely nothing.

The more she thought about it, the harder it became to breathe.

Watching that Maserati speed away had felt like watching her dignity vanish into the night. She stood beneath the dim glow of the streetlights, her shadow stretching long on the cracked sidewalk.

Alone. Disheveled. Feeling just as pathetic as she looked.

By the time she finally made it home, Landon was nowhere to be found.

No text. No call. Nothing.

The silence was deafening—until her phone buzzed, breaking the stillness.

Ryan’s voice came through the line, casual but a little hesitant. "Hey, Zara, could you pick up Landon? He’s completely smashed and can’t drive."

Zara let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temple.

She was exhausted.

But she swallowed the fatigue, her voice quiet as she answered, "Mm."

...

Under the night sky, Landon stood by the car, his shirt unbuttoned, showing just enough of his toned chest to make it look effortless.

He leaned lazily against the vehicle, his lips curved into a drunken smirk, the picture of careless arrogance.

His smile was, as always, breathtaking—but the name he slurred wasn’t hers. "Cassidy… tell me, what did I do wrong? Why did you leave me without a word?"

The dim streetlights flickered above, casting a hazy glow over him. Landon’s vision was blurred from the alcohol, and in his drunken state, he mistook Zara for Cassidy.

Something inside her cracked, but she kept her voice even. "I’ll take you home."

Ryan shifted uncomfortably beside them, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, Zara. Landon's just drunk. Don’t take it seriously."

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

Drunk words were often sober thoughts. And Landon, wrapped up in his stupor, clung to Zara like she was Cassidy, whispering another woman’s name over and over again.

Ryan’s explanation didn’t mean a damn thing. They all knew the truth. Cassidy was back, and to Landon, she was the only thing that mattered.

Zara? She was just… there.

She helped him into the cab, his body slumping against the seat. He looked so lost, curled up in the back, his voice hoarse as he mumbled Cassidy’s name in his sleep.

Zara studied his face, feeling something deep inside her twist. He was still so damn handsome. Still, the man who had once made her heart race. But none of that mattered anymore.

She exhaled softly.

Under her breath, Zara whispered, "In half a month, I’ll be gone."

She paused, the words sinking in. "Landon, don’t blame me for not waiting for you. I waited seven years for you to come back to me, but you never did."

She wasn’t just saying it to him. She was saying it to herself. Because deep down, she had always known what kind of man Landon was.

And she had always known how this would end.

By the time they reached the Riverside Estate, it was past midnight. Landon stumbled inside, collapsing onto the bed in an instant, lost in a heavy, drunken sleep.

Zara stood there for a long moment, just watching him.

She was tired—bone-deep exhausted.

But she turned toward the kitchen, her hands moving on autopilot as she prepared to make hangover soup.

Then, she stopped.

The thought of doing something kind for him felt hollow.

Pointless.

She just stood there, hands hovering over the ingredients, staring at nothing.

That night, they slept in the same bed. But the space between them felt like an ocean.

...

The next morning, Zara woke up late—noon, to be exact.

Landon was still in bed, his arms wrapped around her waist, his breath warm against her ear as he chuckled softly.

"You were so obedient last night," he teased, his voice groggy. "You even came to pick me up. Did you secretly curse me out in your head?"

The way he said it—like it was all just some joke—made something in her chest tighten.

It felt so damn familiar. Like seven years ago.

Back then, when they were in that perfect little honeymoon phase, Landon would go out drinking, never wasted, just tipsy enough to make it fun.

She used to pout, crossing her arms. "If you keep this up, I won’t let you come home anymore."

"Alright," he’d laugh, always giving in to her, like he had no choice.

Back then, they weren’t even officially together. But it didn’t matter. He treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

People respected Zara then. They had to. Everyone knew she was Landon’s pearl—the one thing he wouldn’t let anyone touch.

But now… she trembled, wishing she had never overheard that conversation between him and Cassidy.

Unfortunately, she had.

After a beat of silence, Landon slipped out of bed, as if trying to smooth things over. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a cup of warm milk, his smile gentle.

"Drink this," he said, his voice sincere. "It’s good for you."

If it had been any other time, she would’ve taken the milk without hesitation, like she always had.

But today was different.

She stared at the cup in his hands, the warmth of it feeling like a cruel joke.

Was it really just milk?

Or was it something else?

Something meant to make her forget?

To soften her resolve?

Her lips pressed into a thin line, doubt and anger swirling inside her.

She opened her mouth to refuse, but before she could, Landon gently pressed the cup to her lips, his voice coaxing. "Drink it, okay? Thank you, baby."

His eyes were so damn sincere. But Zara wasn’t sure if she could trust him anymore.

Landon turned and walked out without a second glance.

The cup of warm milk sat in Zara’s hand, its sweetness long gone, replaced by a bitter aftertaste that mirrored the tears she hadn’t been able to shed.

With one last, shaky breath, she drained the cup to the last drop.

A sharp pain knifed through her abdomen, and then—blood.

Zara knew. She didn’t need a doctor to confirm it. She was losing the baby.

Panic seized her chest, but the world around her blurred, dissolving into darkness.

The only thing she could do was close her eyes, the weight of despair pressing down on her like an unbearable force.

...

When Zara woke, daylight had already filled the room.

But the sterile scent of antiseptic and bleach made her stomach turn. The cold air from the hospital vent made her shiver, her body weak, and her throat raw.

Through the window, she spotted a Rolls-Royce parked outside.

'He’s here?'

For the briefest moment, hope flickered inside her. But then—

“You know, Cassidy’s really lucky. She just caught a cold, and her fiancé's acting like it’s the end of the world.”

“Right? I heard he is Landon Winston from the Winston family. They say he’s a playboy, but who would’ve thought he could be so devoted?”

The engagement ring on her finger slipped, tumbling to the floor with a soft metallic clink.

Zara didn’t even look at it.

Her mind was a whirlwind of static. "Landon… tell me, who are you really loyal to? Do you think that little side character won’t be upset? And using nourishment to supplement the body? You actually came up with that?"

Her eyes were swollen, her face raw from crying. Just as she thought she might drown in her misery, the door creaked open.

The nurse stepped in, and behind her was Cassidy Martin.

Their eyes met. Zara could read the message clear as day in Cassidy’s gaze.

Provocation. Amusement. Triumph.

Cassidy didn’t even need to say a word.

Her lips moved silently, taunting Zara: 'Look at you. In the end, you lost to me.'

And Landon?

His eyes never strayed from Cassidy.

Zara coughed, her chest tight, then slowly closed her eyes. As if shutting them could somehow make the disgrace disappear.

...

On the drive back home, Zara saw something that made her freeze.

Landon—her fiancé—who had never once set foot in a kitchen, was now in there, cooking.

“Zara, Cassidy’s going to stay here for a few days. You know that, right?” he asked.

She didn’t respond.

Her body felt like lead.

Her heart? Even heavier.

Exhausted and completely drained, she muttered without thinking, “Do whatever you want.”

From the kitchen, Cassidy’s voice rang out, dripping with a smirk. “Forget it. Since I’m here, I’ll let you try my cooking today. I made dumplings for you. What do you think?”

Zara didn’t answer. She was too tired. Too tired of all of it.

Her thoughts drifted to Julian. She didn’t even know where he was, but for some reason, she wanted to hear his voice.

Just to ground herself. Just to remind herself that there was still something beyond this nightmare.

Landon stepped out of the kitchen, dusting flour from his hands.

His voice was soft, coaxing. "Don’t be mad at me, okay? After a while, I’ll take you on a trip. Just don’t stay angry."

His eyes held that familiar tenderness—the same warmth that had once made her melt.

But now? Now it just felt empty.

To him, this was a cycle. He played, he strayed, and when he was done, he always came back to her. Because he liked her. Didn’t he?

Zara stayed silent.

Before she could even process her thoughts, Cassidy’s voice rang out again, laced with mockery. "Come on, join us! We all know our dear Zara has no clue how to make dumplings, so why not try mine instead?"

Landon shot Zara a nervous look, lowering his voice. “Please, don’t be upset anymore, okay?”

Zara ignored him, her focus entirely on Cassidy. Slowly, deliberately, she picked up a dumpling and took a bite.

Cassidy’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Well? How does it taste?”

Zara didn’t answer.

But Landon? His face drained of color. He turned to her, his hands trembling slightly.

“Get out of my house,” he said, his voice shaky, like his entire world had just collapsed around him.

But Cassidy wasn’t done.

Feigning to be surprised, she let out a lazy hum before sneering. "Do you know what you just ate?"

The air grew thick, suffocating.

Cassidy leaned in, her smile widening. "You ate the child you aborted yesterday. That’s what’s wrapped inside."

Her grin was pure malice.

“Delicious, isn’t it?”

She was reveling in this—savoring Zara’s pain like a fine wine. Every word was meant to crush, to obliterate, to make sure Zara never crawled back from this.

“How does it feel?” Cassidy cooed, tilting her head. "How does it feel to taste your own flesh and blood?"