Chapter 1

Lisa Shaw's depression flared up again. At this moment, she was trembling in the arms of my fiancé, James Cook, right in front of me.

"James, can you not get married, please?" she pleaded.

James froze for a moment before pulling her closer, his eyes full of tenderness.

"Alright, we’ll do whatever you want."

A sharp pain stabbed my chest as I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. I had lost count of how many times he had crossed the line.

Lisa and James had been childhood friends. During an elevator accident, she pushed him to safety. After being rescued, she was diagnosed with depression.

When I was bedridden with a fever, she had a hysterical breakdown, threatening to take her own life.

During our anniversary, she claimed she was too scared to be alone.

When I sprained my ankle going downstairs, she had recurring nightmares.

Every single time, when I needed James by my side, Lisa managed to pull him away.

I understood the bond they shared because of that life-saving incident, so I always backed down. But this time, I didn’t want to give in anymore.

"James, are we still getting married tomorrow?" I asked.

Hearing this, James paused while patting Lisa’s hand and replied in a low tone, "Ruby, you know Lisa’s sick. She can’t be upset."

At this point, what more was there to misunderstand? I let out a bitter laugh.

"Fine. Then there’s no need for this wedding anymore. Take good care of her.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, James finally looked up at me, a flicker of panic flashing across his face. Yet he still sat there, holding Lisa tightly.

I didn’t want to argue with him anymore. Turning away, I went back to my room to pack my belongings.

But just as I stepped out of the bedroom, I found James blocking the doorway. He looked at me, his tone laced with irritation.

"Ruby, can’t you be reasonable? It’s just a wedding. I’ll make it up to you later."

I almost laughed in anger. He still thought it was just about a wedding.

Too tired to engage, I stepped around him, but he grabbed my wrist.

For a moment, I thought he was trying to stop me. But then I heard him say, "You can leave, but leave the wedding gown behind. Lisa gets nightmares just seeing that gown. I want to get rid of it."

I froze, wondering if I had misheard.

"Are you joking?"

James knew perfectly well that this gown was handmade by my grandmother before she passed away. It was the only thing she left me.

The grip on my wrist tightened abruptly as he pressed down on my suitcase, trying to snatch the gown away.

My eyes reddened as I resisted, fighting back with all my strength.

"James, how can you be so heartless?"

A hint of coldness flashed in his eyes.

"It’s just a wedding gown. Can’t you be more generous?"

With that, he shoved me forcefully. I stumbled and fell to the ground as he grabbed the suitcase and slammed the door shut.

I scrambled to my feet, rushing to the door like a madwoman, pounding and screaming.

"James! Don’t touch my wedding gown! It’s the only thing my grandmother left me! James! I’m begging you!"

No matter how desperately I pleaded, the only response was an endless, suffocating silence.

Completely breaking down, I sank to the floor, my head drooping in defeat, my disheveled hair sticking to my cheeks.

At that moment, a notification lit up my phone. Lisa had sent me a video.

In the video, James held a pair of scissors, slicing the hem of the gown over and over again.