I'd dreamed of sharing a bed with Ashton countless times, but never like this.

He turned away, keeping his distance as if I were toxic waste.

Sleep eluded me all night.

Come morning, brushing my teeth triggered a violent wave of nausea. I retched until bile burned my throat.

My time was running out.

Sitting across from Ashton at breakfast for the first time in years, I couldn't stomach a bite.

He noticed, cleaning up quickly to leave.

"Hold up," I called. "Drive me to work."

Ashton sneered. "Didn't realize my chauffeur duties came with the bed-warming package, Ms. Murphy."

I cut to the chase. "You driving or not?"

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Ashton had raced cars abroad for a few years. I'd always regretted not being there to see him in his element.

Today, I got a taste.

The moment I buckled up, we shot off like a rocket. My heart leaped into my throat, barely stifling a scream.

Fifteen minutes later, I stumbled out, faking composure before bolting for the nearest trash can. With nothing in my stomach, only acid came up.

Suddenly, a hand pressed hard on my abdomen.

Pain seared through me, draining the color from my face.

"Lyla, are you okay?" The fake concern in that voice made my skin crawl.

"Get lost! Don't touch me," I spat, mustering what little strength I had to push the person away.

She dramatically fell to the ground, hamming it up as usual.

I rolled my eyes, thinking, Here we go again.

Ashton, witnessing this from afar, slammed the car door and strode over.

After helping Evelyn Murphy up, he glared at me. "Lyla! Don't push it."

Evelyn's voice dripped with honey. "Ashton, don't blame her. It was an accident..."

"Cut the act, Evelyn. I've seen enough of your performances over the years."

"Lyla, I don't know what you mean." Evelyn's expression was the picture of wounded innocence. If I didn't know better, I might've bought it.

But there was always one sucker who fell for it.

"Enough, Lyla!" Ashton barked. "After all these years, you're still so vicious."

Me, vicious? I laughed until my stomach ached again.

Wiping away involuntary tears, I mocked him. "Ashton, you're blinder than a bat in broad daylight."

Ashton's eyes narrowed. "You're impossible," he muttered, leading Evelyn away.

She glanced back, flashing me a triumphant smirk.

Since childhood, Evelyn had always snatched away everything I loved. Even Ashton.

Watching them walk off arm in arm, I marveled at my own masochism. On death's doorstep, and here I was, still chasing the bitter dregs of love.

But damn it, I can't let it go! Ashton has promised to marry me. How can he forget? How can he gang up with Evelyn against me?

So even if it killed me, I'd make sure to royally piss them off one last time.

If there was anything left in this world I cared about besides Ashton, it was this company. Mom's legacy. Before I checked out, I had to make sure it was in good hands.

It must be my unlucky day. The whole Murphy clan decided to show up.

After asking my secretary to grab me some oatmeal, I opened my office door to find Leon Murphy lounging on the sofa. Looked like he'd been waiting a while.

Leon fidgeted, rubbing his hands—a gambler's tell before rolling the dice.

"Lyla, sweetie, about this month's allowance..." he began.

I cut him off. "Didn't I just give you five million last week?"

Leon had the gall to look sheepish. "Five... five million doesn't stretch far these days!"

I'd long given up on this excuse for a father. "No money. Get out," I snapped, done wasting my breath.

Leon was furious. The company was his and his ex-wife's creation. It had achieved what it had because of his contributions, too. Now, just asking for a little money, and he had to beg his daughter for it.

Fuming with frustration, Leon hurled a barrage of curses at me. I barely flinched, calling for security as if it were routine.

As I slumped into my chair, a wave of weariness washed over me. Thank God this hellish day would soon be over.

That evening, Ashton returned.

I was curled up on the couch in my pajamas, nursing a mug of warm milk—a nightly ritual that offered some comfort.

After the day's drama, Ashton clearly wanted nothing to do with me, heading straight upstairs.

"Ashton," I called out, halting his steps. "Let's talk."

He paused, irritation lacing his voice. "We've got nothing to discuss."

"Then let's talk about Evelyn."

Reluctantly, Ashton sat across from me, a long table stretching between us like a chasm.

"Evelyn's your sister," he began. "I can overlook what you've done to her in the past, but from now on, lay off her."

Curiosity piqued, I asked, "You like her?"

Ashton froze. Sure, Evelyn was understanding, and they'd spent years abroad together. He felt a fondness for her, but love? He wasn't certain.

"I just can't stand seeing you bully her. She's always seen you as a sister."

I cut him off. "Ashton, remember what you once told me?"

Memories flooded back. I was five, Ashton six.

He'd just moved to our neighborhood.

After another toy-snatching incident with Evelyn, I'd shoved her and run off, ending up in Ashton's backyard.

There he stood, dressed like a little prince, asking what was wrong.

I ignored him, but he crouched down, studying my face. He poked my cheek, declaring I was as pretty as a TV princess.

I blushed. No one had called me that since Mom died.

Seeing my tears dry up, Ashton beamed, taking my hand to play at his place.

From then on, I'd seek him out whenever I was down, often falling asleep at his house.

Ashton loved playing the hero, hands on hips, declaring, "One day, I'll make you my bride. Anyone who messes with you answers to me!"

Ironic how he became the one who hurt me most.

When did things change between us?

Maybe when I pushed Evelyn down the stairs, breaking her leg and landing her in a wheelchair for months.

Or that winter night I left her out in the cold, nearly killing her with fever.

Perhaps when I ruined her graduation dress, humiliating her publicly—yet she still smiled, defending me to Ashton.

All of it, I suppose.

To Ashton, I was the villain who was cruel and heartless, even to my family.

His expression hardened as the memories resurfaced. "Lyla, what's your point?"

I smiled wryly. "Ashton, spend my birthday with me tomorrow."

It would be my last, and I wanted him by my side.

He frowned. "Isn't your birthday next month?"

So he remembers.

My heart lifted a little.

"I won't make it to next month," I said regretfully.

Ashton's lips curled into that contemptuous smirk I hated. "Right. Who knows whose arm you'll be on by then, Ms. Murphy."

I just smiled, offering no explanation.

Lately, I couldn't keep anything down. I'd lost weight, my clothes hanging loose.

I had my driver take me shopping for something that fit.

That afternoon, I arrived early at the restaurant, instructing the chef to prepare Ashton's favorites.

As kids, Ashton celebrated a few birthdays with me. But after Evelyn deliberately drove a wedge between us, he barely spoke to me. I'd invited him every year since, but he never showed.

So today, I was brimming with anticipation.

The journey from hope to heartbreak could happen in the blink of an eye.

Ashton didn't show up.

Instead, he sent a cold, detached message: [Evelyn is hurt. I have to take care of her.]

I managed a bitter laugh, tears streaming down my face. With Ashton, cruelty was his default setting.

Just as I was about to get up, a snide voice cut through the air from behind me.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Murphy. Oh my, are those tears I see? Don't tell me some guy stood you up."

I was stunned: why is she here?