Addison Ball POV:

My stomach clenched. A sudden, violent surge of nausea overwhelmed me.

I clapped a hand to my mouth, sprinting towards the bathroom. I barely made it.

The porcelain bowl was cold against my cheek. My body convulsed, emptying itself of the meager contents.

The sharp ring of his business phone cut through the air. A harsh, irritating sound.

Addison was already on the move. "Duty calls, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice muffled.

He didn't wait. Didn't even glance my way. He was already out the door, his footsteps fading.

He left the mug on the edge of the counter. A ceramic monstrosity, filled with scalding hot tea.

It teetered precariously. He hadn't noticed. He never noticed.

The mug fell. A slow, agonizing descent.

It crashed onto the tile floor, shattering into sharp pieces.

And the tea. The boiling hot tea splashed over my bare foot.

A searing pain erupted. White-hot, then throbbing.

I was curled on the cold floor, still reeling from the nausea, still dressed in my birthday finery.

I bit back a scream. The pain was immediate, intense.

I scrambled back, away from the broken ceramic and the scalding liquid.

Tears sprang to my eyes. Hot, angry tears that had nothing to do with the physical pain.

He didn't come back that night. The bed next to me remained cold and empty.

The burn on my foot throbbed, a constant, searing reminder.

It mirrored the ache in my chest. The deep, agonizing wound in my heart.

I lay there alone, surrounded by the silence of the vast, empty penthouse.

His absence was a gaping hole. A void that swallowed all the false promises.

The physical pain was awful, but the emotional pain was a thousand times worse.

I was alone. Utterly, completely alone.

Addison Ball POV:

The hospital room was sterile, cold. Before the nurse could prep me, I picked up my phone.

My fingers trembled as I dialed his number. Part of me hoped he wouldn't answer. Part of me desperately needed him to.

"Addison?" His voice was rough, a little impatient. "Why haven't you answered my calls? I've been calling all morning."

"I... I'm at the hospital," I whispered, the words barely audible.

"What? What happened?" His tone shifted, a hint of alarm. "Are you okay? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"I'm fine," I lied, my gaze fixed on the IV drip. "Just a check-up."

"I'll be right there," he promised. "As soon as I finish this meeting. Hold on, okay?"

I clutched the sheet, my knuckles white. A fragile thread of hope, thin as a spider silk, stretched between us.

"No," I managed. "Don't. I just wanted you to know."

"Who the hell is that, Addison? Get off the phone, I feel like I'm dying!"

Esmeralda. Her voice, sharp and demanding, cut through the line. The sound was like a physical blow.

"I need more water! Hurry!" She sounded sick, but undeniably present.

Addison sighed, a weary, exasperated sound. "I'll call you back, sweetheart."

The line went dead. My heart shattered into a million icy fragments.

He called again almost immediately. His name flashed on the screen.

I answered, my hand shaking. "Addison?" he demanded, his voice frantic. "Are you really okay? What's going on?"

I couldn't speak. A choked sob caught in my throat.

Then, a piercing shriek in the background. A smoke alarm.

"Damn it, Esmeralda! What did you do now?!" His voice was laced with anger.

"A-Addison! The kitchen! It's on fire!" Esmeralda screamed, her voice shrill with panic.

"You idiot! I told you not to touch the stove!" His words were sharp, followed by a clatter.

"Oh, so it's my fault, is it? You're the one who left me here sick and ignored!" Esmeralda retorted, her voice dripping with venom.

Then, a soft thud. A muffled groan. And then, a sickeningly intimate sound. A kiss.

"Still so naive, isn't she?" Esmeralda purred, her voice dripping with malicious glee. "Believes anything you say."

My vision blurred. The phone slipped from my numb fingers.

The words, the sounds, the undeniable intimacy. It all crashed down on me. There was no escape.