Janice's POV

"Since we've run into each other, let's head out together," Shawn said.

Running into Shawn here was a stroke of bad luck.

I declined coldly, "No, thanks. I have a ride."

"Today is the pre-wedding party. You've already agreed to attend the wedding, so skipping the party would make us look bad. Or is what they say true? Do you still have feelings for Jason and can't even bear to look at him?"

Shawn didn't give me a choice. As soon as he finished speaking, he had his men shove me into the car.

We arrived at a bar with deafening music blasting inside. The people dancing wildly in the private room turned to look at me in my wheelchair, and the room instantly fell silent.

Someone asked, "Freya, did you really invite a disabled person to your wedding?"

The room erupted in laughter.

Freya gave the person a light and playful shove. "Stop that. This is a good friend of Jason and mine. Ms. Moyer, let's play dice."

From the moment I entered the bar, I felt pressure building inside me. My head spun as waves of nausea washed over me.

Someone pushed me toward Freya. I looked back and saw Jason.

He glanced at my legs, covered by the blanket. "Is that sprained ankle still not healed? I hope there isn't some other problem—"

Freya laughed and cut him off, "Jason, you're teasing Ms. Moyer again. Ms. Moyer, Jason's just like that. He's blunt with everyone except me.

"Don't take it personally. Let's play dice. The loser drinks!"

I pressed my lips together and stayed silent. When I lost, I forced myself to pick up the glass and drained it. The harsh liquid burned its way down my throat, making my blood boil.

I set the empty glass on the table and stared at Freya. A surge of stubbornness and refusal to accept defeat rose within me. "Again!"

After a few rounds, I lost almost every single time. That was only to be expected, given how weak my hands were.

They pushed another drink toward me, but I could no longer lift the glass. I nudged the glass away with my fingers. "No, I'm done."

Freya smiled. "Ms. Moyer, it's fine if you don't want to play. But the rule here is that if you can't drink, you have to take off a piece of clothing or dance."

Even without thinking, I knew she was deliberately making things hard for me. I couldn't even manage half of what she asked.

If this were five years ago, I would have drunk them all under the table without flinching. Back then, no one dared to bully me. Now, the person who once stood by my side felt worlds away.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jason leaning against the couch with his arms crossed. He watched us with total indifference, as if this were nothing more than a joke.

Freya's grin widened. "Do you want to drink or dance? Make a choice, Ms. Moyer."

Just then, Jason's phone rang. He gave me a long look before getting up to answer it.

My body reached its limit. I forced my eyes open, twisted my lips into a sneer, and whispered, "In your dreams. Can't you hear what I'm saying? I said that I'm done."

Freya's expression shifted instantly, and she slapped me hard. "Why didn't you die abroad? Are you tired of living? If you won't die on your own, I'll make sure you do."

Suddenly, a cold bottle was shoved into my hand. The moment the door opened again, Freya grabbed my hand and smashed the bottle against her own head.

She shrieked hysterically, "Jason, save me!"

Janice's POV

After a brief commotion, Jason rushed over and shoved my wheelchair aside. He then scooped up Freya and headed for the exit.

My body went limp. I watched through gritted teeth as Jason held Freya with such tenderness. My eyes met her smug gaze, which seemed to say that she had won.

Jason didn't even spare me a glance. He judged me without asking for my side of the story, leaving me with no way to defend myself.

Someone kicked me hard. I toppled to the ground, alcohol spilling as shards of glass scattered everywhere. It was a pathetic sight.

Jason paused in his tracks.

Freya clutched her head with one hand and her stomach with the other. "Jason, I really don't know what got into Ms. Moyer. She suddenly swung that bottle at me and said she wanted to kill me and the baby so you could never be happy.

"It's fine if she hates me, but I don't understand why she would hurt our child. It hurts so much, Jason. Am I going to die?"

I lay on the ground with the wheelchair pinning me down. Shards of glass sliced into my skin, and the sticky liquor made the wounds sting even more, but I didn't have the energy to call for help.

"Shawn, get Janice to a hospital. I'll settle the score with her later!"

Jason's voice faded into the distance.

In a daze, I met Shawn's sly and mocking gaze. "Janice, I'm not like Jason. I won't keep falling for your tricks.

"You almost succeeded again. Jason actually wanted to postpone the wedding just because you came back! Fortunately, he won't be delaying anything. I'll make sure he never sees you again!"

I wanted to scream at Shawn in rage. He was Jason's best friend, but we had also known each other for years. How could he be heartless enough to treat me this way?

Still, I couldn't say a word. I felt as though someone stuffed me into a box and tossed me into a frozen wasteland.

At first, everything felt freezing. Then, memories started flashing through my mind, coming and going in a blur.

In the end, I return to that bar, wrapped in warmth.

Jason asked me, "Janice, how about I propose to you here someday?"

This time, he received no answer.

…

Jason's POV

I took Freya to the hospital for a full checkup. Once I confirmed there was no major issue, I contacted Shawn. "How is Janice?"

Shawn replied, "Don't worry. She's not going to die."

My temples throbbed. "Which hospital is she in? I need to ask her why she tried to hurt Freya."

Shawn hesitated. "Tomorrow's your wedding. Just wait until after the ceremony to ask her."

Before I could think further, Freya woke up and clung to me, refusing to let go. I felt a sense of helplessness.

I regretted letting my guard down that night. I had drunk the spiked wine, which led to Freya getting pregnant, leaving me with no choice but to take responsibility.

I wanted to demand answers from Janice about why she returned, why she looked so miserable, and why she wanted to harm my child.

I told myself I could ask after the wedding. There was still time.

By the next day's wedding, Freya had recovered considerably. We walked into the church arm in arm, presenting a picture of perfect happiness.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Zayne burst in, covered in snow, and slammed his fist into my face.

He screamed, "Why? Why did Janice die out in the snow?"