Chapter 2

The next day, he called me, his tone unusually soft as he said, “Victoria, get ready. My friend has invited me to the inauguration of his new shopping mall brand in our city.”

“I have ignored you for the past few weeks. This time, I’ll make it up to you.” He added, as if I cared.

The luxurious brands and expensive jewelry were the least things I was interested in.

Had he noticed me throughout the time I spent with him, he would have known I hadn't spent a penny from his money.

But, before I could refuse, he hung up the call. And, an hour later, I was standing behind Edwin at Richard's new mall, holding dozens of shopping bags that didn't belong to me.

Rose walked by Edwin's side, her hands leisurely wrapped around Edwin's arms with an authority that looked like she owned him.

And I was walking behind them, carrying her bags. As it turned out, I was invited just to assist Rose in the shopping and not because Edwin was considering my feelings.

As Rose threw one more bag on me to carry, I sighed. One more week. I thought. One more task and I would be free.

My arms ached under the weight of Rose’s "delicate" whims—satin dresses, designer heels, and jewelry that cost more than a suburban home.

“Oh, Edwin, look at this!” Rose chirped, pointing toward a diamond display. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes shimmering with a calculated frailty.

Edwin glanced back at me, his eyes flickering over the mountain of bags I carried. For a second, a shadow of hesitation crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, practiced indifference.

“Keep up, Victoria. Don’t fall behind and embarrass me.”

I didn’t answer. I didn't have the energy to waste on words. I was simply counting the seconds.

Suddenly, the polished atmosphere shattered.

The sound of crashing glass erupted from the main entrance, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots.

Screams tore through the air as a group of masked men, armed and moving with military precision, stormed the atrium. These weren't petty thieves; they were the subordinates of the Moretti family—Edwin’s most ruthless rivals.

“There he is! Secure the target!” a voice roared.

Chaos descended. The crowd surged toward the exits, a panicked tide of humanity. Edwin’s bodyguards moved to intercept, but the attackers had the advantage of surprise.

In the heart of the crisis, Edwin’s instinct was instantaneous. He didn't look at me. He didn't call my name. He lunged for Rose, wrapping his massive frame around her small body to shield her from the flying debris.

In a desperate attempt to protect Rose, he pushed me into one of the attacker’s arms just to stop him. When he realised, his legs paused. A moment of panic flickered through his eyes. But Rose’s voice, filled with fear and panic, forced him to keep going.

He pulled her behind a marble pillar, his back turned to the open hall—and to the gunman aiming directly at his spine.

“Edwin, watch out!” Rose shrieked, but she didn't move to help him; she only buried her face further into his chest.

The lead gunman leveled his suppressed pistol. He had a clear shot at Edwin’s unprotected back.

A part of me was satisfied watching this.

But in the end, I dropped the bags. The designer silks and leather hit the floor like dead weight.

Time seemed to liquefy, slowing down until I could see the gunman’s finger tightening on the trigger.

If Edwin died, the hundredth wish was never completed. If he died, I would never see Mark.

I didn't move out of love. I didn't move out of a sense of martyrdom. I moved because this man was my ticket home, and I refused to let a bullet cancel my flight.

I threw myself forward, my body a human shield between the barrel and the man who had spent the last three years breaking my heart.

THWIP.

The sound was sickeningly quiet. The impact felt like a molten iron rod being driven into my shoulder. The force of it knocked me into Edwin, sending us both crashing to the floor.

Edwin scrambled up, his eyes wide with shock as he realized he wasn't hit. He looked down at me, his hands trembling as they touched the rapidly spreading crimson stain on my white blouse.

“Victoria?” His voice was a strangled whisper, the coldness finally shattered by a raw, primal terror. “Why… why did you do that?”