Lena woke up in bed, her body aching. Andrew stood beside her, cold and unreadable.

"You really outdid yourself this time," he said, voice like ice. "I should've left you in there for three days, but Nicole—being so generous—begged me to let you out.

"I know you still can't let go, but listen up, Lena. I will never love a girl twelve years younger than me. You and I? Not happening."

The door slammed behind him before she could even open her mouth.

Lena leaned against the headboard, eyes shut, exhaling slow. 'Andrew... I really don't love you anymore.'

***

The Rohan estate buzzed with wedding prep. Nicole flitted around, barking orders, all smiles as she looped her arm through Lena's—like their messy history had magically disappeared.

"The venue's set, decorations are perfect. Only thing missing? A bridesmaid. Lena, you'd be PERFECT! Who knows? Maybe you'll hit it off with a groomsman and finally get a boyfriend."

Her voice dripped with fake sweetness.

Lena wasn't great at pretending. She pulled her arm free, ready to shut it down, when a cold voice cut through the air.

"She can't be a bridesmaid."

Both girls turned. Andrew stood behind them.

Nicole blinked. "Why not?"

He didn't answer. Just looked at Lena.

She'd been different lately. No desperate clinging, no pathetic attempts to get his attention. But the idea of her finding a boyfriend? That irritated him.

Not that he knew why.

His jaw tensed, mind scrambling for an excuse, but Lena spoke first.

"I'm not even in your age group. It wouldn't be appropriate."

Not the real reason—she'd be gone before the wedding even happened—but it worked.

Andrew gave a small nod. Nicole sighed. End of discussion.

Just as Lena exhaled, ready to escape, Nicole spoke up again.

"If Lena can't be my bridesmaid, then as a sign of your blessing, why don't you give me the wedding dress you designed? I've always loved it."

Lena froze, instinctively glancing at Andrew.

That dress—she'd designed it at eighteen. It had even won an award. Countless heiresses had begged to buy it, but she refused every single one.

Because it was meant for her.

She'd dreamed of wearing it on her wedding day. To Andrew.

And he knew that. But instead of shutting Nicole down, he hesitated—then spoke.

"Lena, if you sell me the gown, I'll agree to whatever condition you name."

A smirk ghosted across her lips. "No need. Nicole's right—I should give you both my blessing. Consider it my wedding gift."

She made a quick call. Minutes later, boutique staff arrived, carefully handing the gown to Nicole.

Beaming, Nicole snatched it up and bolted for the fitting room, too thrilled to keep tormenting Lena.

Lena watched her go, her face unreadable, then turned back toward her room. No anger. No sadness. Just nothing.

Andrew, however, stood frozen, staring after her, lost in thought.

***

Late that night, Lena packed her suitcase alone. Almost everything was set—the paperwork, the plans. Soon, she'd be gone.

Just as she stashed her luggage and was about to crash, the door slammed open.

Andrew stormed in, grabbed her wrist, and snapped, "What did you do to the wedding dress? Nicole put it on, and now she's covered in rashes. Itching like crazy. Were you trying to kill her?"

Under the dim yellow light, his eyes burned, sharp enough to cut.

Lena yanked back. "I didn't touch it! I wouldn't—I couldn't! Why would I hurt her?"

His face went cold. Then—shove. She hit the bed, his glare like ice.

"I don't care what excuse you have. You still won't let me go, fine. But going after Nicole?" His voice dropped, lethal. "You'd better pray she's fine, or else—"

Before he could finish, a maid rushed in. "Mr. Rohan! Ms. Jenner just fainted!"

Andrew stiffened. "Watch Lena. Don't let her escape."

Then he was gone.

The Rohan estate stayed lit all night.

Lena sat frozen on the couch, nails digging so deep into her palms they drew blood. She didn't feel a thing. Just stared at the clock as it crawled from midnight to seven a.m.

The second it chimed, hurried footsteps echoed outside.

Andrew stormed in, eyes blazing with pure rage. A chill ran down Lena's spine.

He took a whip from a servant and stepped toward her, slow and deliberate.

"Lena Clermont, do you realize Nicole and the baby almost died?"

Baby?

Nicole was pregnant?

Shock crashed over her—but then, clarity.

Right. In her past life, she'd been the one pregnant at this exact moment.

But this time, she'd been the one to shove Nicole into Andrew's arms.

So of course, now it was Nicole carrying his child.

No time to dwell on it.

Andrew stood there, ready to use his so-called "disciplinary punishment" just to vent Nicole's anger. Lena's eyes burned red as she fought to explain.

"I didn't touch the dress. I never tried to hurt her. From the kidnapping to the letters at the banquet, and now this—don't you think it's all TOO much of a coincidence? If I was really framing her, would I succeed EVERY time?"

She thought Andrew, always cautious, would at least start connecting the dots.

But he was too far gone, his voice ice-cold.

"So what, you're saying Nicole set you up? I love her. I'm marrying her. Why would she even bother?"

That was exactly what Lena couldn't understand. "I don't kn—"

A sharp cry tore from her lips.

The whip had already struck.

"Lena, you're truly beyond saving."

Her face drained of color. A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Of course. Nicole was the one he'd always protect. So why had she even dared to hope he'd believe her?

She wanted to run, but the bodyguards were faster. They shoved her to the ground.

Another lash cut through the air.

Andrew's voice was ice. "Do you admit your guilt?"

Pain ripped through her, but she clenched her hands tight, refusing to make a sound.

Andrew's expression darkened at her defiance. The whip cracked down again, this time across her back.

"I'll ask one more time—do you admit it?"

Lena lay there, lips sealed. She hadn't done anything wrong. Why should she confess?

Andrew's patience snapped. The whip lashed her over and over.

Skin split. Blood seeped through her clothes. Still, she didn't break.

In the end, it was Jeffrey, the butler, who stepped in, grabbing Andrew's wrist. "Sir, if this continues, she won't survive..."

Only then did Andrew stop. He tossed the whip aside, his face cold.

"Lena Clermont, don't let there be a next time."

Her head slumped forward.

Unconscious.

***

For days, Andrew didn't come home.

Meanwhile, Lena was stuck in bed, too wrecked by pain to move. It took days before she could finally stand again.

The moment she was back on her feet, her phone rang—immigration office. Her permanent residency was approved.

That was it. No more reason to stay.

She packed up the last of her stuff, suitcase in hand, ready to go.

But the second she stepped outside, she crashed straight into Andrew.

Before she could react, his voice cut like ice.

"Lena, how old are you? Still pulling this runaway act?" His expression darkened. "I've told you over and over—quit your obsession with me. But you don't listen, and you keep hurting Nicole. Am I wrong for punishing you?"

Lena was too drained to care. How many times had she said it? She didn't love him anymore. Why wouldn't he believe her?

Andrew sighed, rubbing his temple, clearly annoyed. "Fine. Go clear your head. Nicole's pregnancy is unstable, and I'm busy with the wedding. If you stay, who knows what you'll try to pull."

Then, without waiting for a response, he grabbed her suitcase.

"I'll take you to the airport myself."

Lena didn't argue. Didn't explain. She just followed.

The car tore down the road in silence. Neither of them spoke.

At the airport, Lena reached for her luggage, ready to go.

That's when Andrew finally asked, "Where's your ticket to?"

Before she could answer, his voice iced over again. "Stay close. Don't go too far. Once Nicole and I are married, I'll come get you."

Lena didn't argue. Didn't react. Just nodded. "I understand."

She grabbed her suitcase and walked inside.

Only when Andrew's car vanished into traffic did she pull out her phone and quietly block his number.

Come get her back?

No need, Andrew.

She was never coming back.