Chapter 4

When Cyrus realized I wasn't taking the bait and heard footsteps approaching from the hall, the smugness on his face vanished, and a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

In a desperate attempt to play the victim, he knocked over a nearby chair, punched himself square in the cheek, and collapsed onto the floor in a weeping, crumpled heap.

"Cyrus! What happened?"

Sierra rushed over at the commotion, checking him from head to toe.

Cyrus clutched his face, whimpering in pain. "I just wanted to apologize to your old friend, but he attacked me!"

"Orlando Hanson!" Sierra snapped, kicking over the takeout containers she'd brought with her. "When did you become so malicious? How could you lay a hand on him?

"I went out of my way to pick up your favorite food. Now, forget it. I'd rather throw it at the dogs than give it to you."

The food spilled across the floor was indeed from my favorite restaurant.

So what? She hadn't even asked me what happened or checked the security footage. She'd simply taken Cyrus's word for it and decided I was guilty.

It made sense. When you stopped loving someone, you stopped trusting them, too.

When I remained silent, she repeated herself, stressing her tone. "What are you waiting for? Apologize to Cyrus!"

Apologize? Fine.

If I was already going to be blamed for something I hadn't done, I might as well make sure the accusation had some truth behind it.

I grabbed the nearest bottle from the table and brought it crashing down on Cyrus's head.

"I'm sorry," I said calmly. "I guess I didn't hit you hard enough the first time. My mistake."

Blood immediately began running from the wound.

"Cyrus!"

Sierra rushed to him, frantically trying to stop the bleeding while calling for medical help. In no time, she broke into a nervous sweat.

She stayed with Cyrus until the ambulance arrived and only then turned her attention back to me. She barked, "Security, lock him in the storage room! Three days! Let him think about what he's done!"

Her eyes were cold with anger. "You enjoy hitting people so much? Then keep it up in there."

She climbed into the ambulance with Cyrus and left without another glance. Several security guards grabbed me and crudely dragged me down the hall.

Worried I might try to escape, they locked me in a windowless room and fastened heavy restraints around my wrists and ankles.

The moment the heavy door slammed shut, darkness engulfed me. I never imagined that the final three days of my life would be spent trapped in a place like this.

I thought that was as bad as things could get, but the worst was yet to come.

Cyrus wasn't planning to let me go that easily.

On the first day, he came back with his head wrapped in gauze and ordered the guards to stop bringing me food and water. For the next three days, he wanted me left completely without anything to eat or drink.

On the second day, he came in and kicked me repeatedly until my stomach churned, and I was left vomiting bitter stomach acid.

By the third day, he'd found a barbed whip. He used it until my clothes were soaked through with blood, leaving my skin covered in raw, bleeding wounds.

"Aren't you afraid Sierra will find out you're doing this?" I said numbly.

"So what if she does?" He merely shrugged. "She's so obsessed with me that she'd never believe your side of the story."

He crouched beside me and patted my cheek. "You're getting out of here soon anyway. Go ahead and test it. Find out who she would believe. If it were me, I wouldn't try that and bring more misery on myself."

He pressed his thumb down on my open wound, watching with sadistic glee as blood soaked through my dark shirt. Only then did he walk out victorious.

He was right about one thing, though. Sierra would never believe me. But by then, it didn't matter anymore because the system countdown had finally reached zero.

The moment the heavy door slammed shut, my consciousness began to fade. Memories of Sierra and me flooded through my mind—the days when we were deeply in love, our shared laughter, and our tender dreams for the future.

For a moment, everything was perfect. Then the memories shattered like glass, and every fragment dissolved into nothingness.

A bitter smile crossed my lips as my arm finally went limp, falling to the floor.

"Sierra, in this life or the next, I never want to meet you again."

...

That evening, Sierra finally returned home from the office and remembered the boyfriend she'd ordered locked away.

She carried a food container to the storage room and pushed open the door.

"Orlando, honey," she called out. "I kept you locked up for three days, so you must be starving. I made you something to help you get your strength back."

There was no answer.

She frowned and slowly looked around the room until her eyes landed on something in the corner. Her pupils contracted, and the food container slipped from her hand.

It crashed to the floor, splattering food across the tiles.