Chapter 3

Harper stared at Ryan's perfectly unscathed body, the chill in her chest sinking to the marrow.

She had been blaming herself, thinking it was her fault for spacing out and not watching the road—believing that was why Ryan got hurt.

But no. This whole charade, this pitiful act, had been orchestrated by him all along.

Three years of love. What part of it had ever been real?

She didn't dare believe anything anymore.

Turning away, she didn't even bother to grab her phone.

Back at the villa, Harper didn't make any soup. Instead, she began packing.

The things that were hers, she boxed up to mail back home. The things he gave her—she threw them all away.

Even looking at them made her stomach turn.

Who knew what kind of tricks were behind those gifts? Photos secretly taken, shared with others for a laugh?

As she packed, she realized just how many memories they'd accumulated over the past three years.

Every single thing—kept by her with care, in perfect, untouched condition.

A loud noise echoed from downstairs—the door being thrown open.

Harper quickly hid the suitcase, and just as she was about to leave the bedroom, she ran straight into a chest.

It was Ryan. He was breathing hard, sweat glistening at his temple from running, his face dark and unreadable.

In his left hand, he held her phone. His voice was low and tense. "Why haven't you gone back to the hospital yet? It's already evening."

His expression grew colder.

"What's this friend request? The note said it's from your fiancé."

Harper froze. Then quickly looked down, masking her face.

"Fiancé? I don't have one. They must've added the wrong person."

Ryan studied her closely, clearly still suspicious.

"Then why did you change your phone's password? It used to be my birthday."

A silent sigh of relief passed through her.

Thank god she'd changed it yesterday after waking up. The last thing she wanted now was for him to find something and make a scene.

After a pause, she put on an innocent expression. "I thought about it… using your birthday wasn't a great idea. What if someone figured it out?"

His eyes clouded over. "So what if they do? At most, we go public."

Harper looked at him in disbelief.

She'd hinted at it before—carefully, cautiously—and each time, he shut her down without hesitation.

Three years of dating, all in secret. Most of their 'dates' had taken place in hotel rooms, in the same bed.

"Baby, just bear with it for now. One day, we'll be together for good… grow old together," he'd whispered.

It was that dream of growing old together that had kept her going. That one line had made all the secrecy feel worth it.

But now—now he says this?

Harper gave a small smile, sharp with irony.

"What's gotten into you lately? You've been so paranoid. Don't you know how much I love you? Have I ever lied to you? Ever messed around with someone else?"

She was beautiful, kind, from a prestigious family—never lacking admirers. In the three years she'd been with Ryan, more men had come chasing than she could count. But she never entertained any of them. She'd always been clear—always firm.

No one should know that better than Ryan.

Sure enough, his expression softened.

He pulled her into a one-armed hug, guiding her toward the bed.

"It's because so many people are after you. I get jealous."

As he spoke, his fingers had already undone the top three buttons of her blouse, brushing against her smooth skin.

Harper panicked, her face flushing as she grabbed his hand to stop him.

"You—! You're still injured!"

He seemed to take her words as concern and smiled, flipping over to lie back.

"It's fine. Baby, just climb on… move for me. Think of it as repaying me for saving your life."

Her face paled. Her shoulders trembled.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could someone say something so shameless?

He hadn't been injured. The rescue had been staged. And now he was using it to coax her into bed?

There was no love here. Only desire, physical and consuming.

For the first time in three years, Harper said no.

"I can't… my stomach hurts."