Chapter 7

Daphne sat frozen, as if her soul had drifted out of her body, watching the perfect couple across from her.

Yes, a perfect couple.

How ridiculous. Her boyfriend was confessing his love to another woman, and somehow, she—the one being framed—was expected to apologize.

"What?"

Luke didn't seem to hear her, maybe because her voice was too soft.

She clenched her teeth, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over, and repeated, "I didn't… hit her."

She hated how her voice trembled and how weak she sounded in front of him. But even if she showed her vulnerability, it was pathetic—because no one here would feel sorry for her.

Seraphine sobbed pitifully. "I don't know what I did to upset you, Daphne. If it's because Luke threw me a welcome party, you could've just told me. I would've knelt and apologized. But today's gathering was organized by our friends, and yet, you still slapped me. I really…"

Daphne shot up. "Drop the act!"

Her glare was sharp. "You're wasting your talent not going into acting. You grabbed my hand and hit yourself—there should be security cameras here. Should I pull up the footage to expose you?"

Seraphine froze for a split second, as if she hadn't expected her to mention surveillance cameras. Then, she started crying even harder. "Luke, you have to believe me. I'm not lying, I swear."

The staff at the club stood hesitantly by the door, too frightened by the scene to step in.

Daphne turned to one of them. "Go. Pull up the footage."

But the staffer didn't move. Instead, she shifted her gaze toward Luke, hesitated, and then lowered her head.

Daphne realized it then.

Of course. Luke and Seraphine were the actual guests here.

And she? To the staff, she was probably just a lunatic ruining someone else's good day.

So naturally, they wouldn't listen to her.

She turned to Luke. He was her last hope. "Luke, I didn't hit her. You know that. You saw her grabbing me…"

If they checked the footage, he would see the truth. He would see Seraphine for who she really was.

"No need."

"What?" This time, she was the one who couldn't believe what she'd heard.

"No need to check. I believe Seraphine."

The staff let out a quiet sigh of relief. Before leaving, one of them even shot her a look—disgusted, contemptuous.

That look stripped her bare, as if she'd been thrown, naked, into the middle of a crowded street. Humiliation crawled over her skin.

A strange numbness took over her mind. Her throat was parched, as if it didn't belong to her anymore.

"You believe her… which means you don't believe me?"

Luke didn't look at her. "You shouldn't have come today. Go home."

And suddenly, she understood.

Of course, he knew the truth. He was smart—too smart not to see through Seraphine's act.

But he didn't want to. He didn't want to call Seraphine out.

Even if it meant letting her bear all the blame.

Was this love? Was this what it meant to love someone deeply?

Did Luke love Seraphine that much?

She turned to Seraphine, who was smiling again—a victorious, gleeful smile.

It stung. The sight of it made her eyes ache.

At that moment, she wanted to cry. But no matter how hard she tried, the tears wouldn't come.

She wasn't even sure how she left. She vaguely remembered the driver offering to take her home. She had refused.

She wandered aimlessly for what felt like forever, until pain shot up from the soles of her feet.

A raindrop struck her cheek.

The downpour came fast, too fast for her to find shelter. In seconds, she was drenched.

The sky turned misty, and the streets became empty.

Cars rushed past, sending waves of water splashing against her.

The scent of damp earth filled her nose. Her stomach churned.

She crouched down in the rain, dry-heaving.

Thankfully, the rain was heavy.

No one could see just how pathetic she looked.