Chapter 2

Late that night, in the hotel suite, August walked in carrying a porcelain bowl.

The pungent smell of ginger immediately filled the room.

"Drink it." He slammed the bowl onto the nightstand.

I was propped up against the headboard, staring at the murky brown sugar water. "You know I'm severely allergic to ginger."

August pulled over a chair and sat down, folding his hands over his knees. "Gemma, stop pretending. Who's allergic to ginger? You're just making excuses to avoid apologizing."

I said nothing. I simply looked at him in silence. My gaze seemed to irritate him.

"You scared Jolie half to death at Crownspire Palace this afternoon. She didn't even eat dinner tonight."

"So?"

"So drink this bowl of ginger tea, take a picture, and post it on social media with an apology to Jolie. Then I'll let this go."

His tone made it sound like he was granting me a favor.

I stared at the steaming bowl. My stomach churned.

Three years ago, August had been hospitalized with gastric bleeding.

Every day, I'd made chicken soup and brought it to the hospital, picking out every last piece of onion.

Now, he was forcing me to drink something containing an allergen that could kill me.

"I'm not drinking it."

August stood up and looked down at me. "Gemma, my patience has limits. If you won't drink it, you can make your own way around the outskirts of Fairmont tomorrow. I'll accompany Jolie instead."

I picked up the bowl.

The smell of ginger shot straight up my nose. I tilted my head back and forced myself to swallow half the bowl, fighting the nausea.

The spicy liquid burned its way down my throat, and a fire seemed to ignite in my stomach.

August watched me finish and nodded with satisfaction. "See? Was that so hard? Don't forget to post the picture."

He turned and walked out without a single word of concern.

Less than half an hour later, the allergic reaction began. Large patches of red welts spread from my neck across my body. My breathing grew labored, and a high fever followed.

I curled up beneath the covers, drenched in cold sweat.

My phone lit up. It was a message from August.

"[Why haven't you posted it yet? Gemma, enough is enough.]"

I was too weak to reply.

Outside the door, I heard August and Jolie talking.

"August, do you think Gemma's sick? Should we go check on her?"

"Leave her alone. She's pretending to be sick to get sympathy. How many times has she pulled this stunt?"

"But..."

"No buts. If she doesn't want anything to do with us, we'll stay in the suite next door."

Their footsteps gradually faded. The door to the adjoining suite closed.

The next morning, we went hiking in the outskirts of Fairmont. The air was damp and cold.

I forced my weak body forward, each step heavy. The high fever from the night before had left me nearly dehydrated.

Jolie wore an expensive designer hiking jacket. She pointed toward an undeveloped trail in the distance. "August, let's take that path. It looks like a real adventure."

I studied the steep, cliffside trail, my brows furrowing. "There's no railing. It's too dangerous. Let's take the easier, marked trail."

August's face immediately darkened. "Gemma, you're ruining the fun again. We're here for an adventure. What's the point of taking the easy trail?"

I tightened my grip on my trekking pole. "I'm not feeling well. I can't manage that trail."

August let out a cold laugh and snatched the pole from my hand. "You're not feeling well? You haven't had enough of pretending to be sick since last night?"

He handed the trekking pole to Jolie. "Jolie didn't bring one. She can use yours. If you're too delicate to keep up, then crawl along behind us."

Jolie accepted the pole, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Gemma, do you mind if I use yours?"

August took her hand. "Why would she mind? She's got plenty of stamina."

He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the cliffside trail, half pulling and half hauling me along.

The sky gradually darkened, and fat raindrops began pounding against the leaves. The downpour came without warning.

The already-soft earth instantly turned into a muddy, slippery slope.

A deep rumble sounded from the mountaintop, and a torrent of mud and rocks came roaring down the mountainside.

"August, I'm scared!" Jolie screamed and crouched on the ground.

My foot slipped. My already-depleted body completely lost its balance. I tumbled uncontrollably toward the edge of the steep slope.

"August!" I instinctively reached out my hand.

He was standing less than three feet away. All he had to do was reach out, and he could have caught me.

But without a moment's hesitation, he turned and lunged toward Jolie, who had done nothing more than get soaked by the rain. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her with his body.

I watched helplessly as his back receded from view, then rolled down the muddy slope and over the cliff.

My body slammed hard against the rocks. Pain tore through me, and I became wedged in a narrow crevice between them. Icy rainwater streamed across my face.

I don't know how much time passed before the rescue team finally hauled me up.

Hypothermia left my entire body shaking uncontrollably. They placed me in a makeshift medical tent.

Outside, I heard Jolie complaining, "August, Gemma is such a troublemaker. She insisted on taking that path and nearly dragged us down with her."

August's voice was cold and irritated. "She's nothing but dead weight. I shouldn't have brought her along in the first place."

I lay on a cot, staring at the waterproof fabric stretched across the tent's ceiling.

Three years ago, August's company had gone bankrupt, and his creditors had driven him to the brink of desperation.

I'd donated 800 cc of blood and sold the antiques passed down through my family to pull him back from the edge of death. The ordeal had left me with severe menstrual cramps and chronic sensitivity to the cold.

And now, he was calling me dead weight.

I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and pushed aside the tent flap.

When August saw me emerge, he frowned. "What are you doing now? Can't you see Jolie's been traumatized?"

I looked at him, my voice calm. "August, I want a divorce."