Chapter 3

I lay there staring up at the white ceiling, my mind spinning through everything that had happened over the past three days like a slideshow.

How had Violet and I ever ended up here?

Three years ago, we'd just reached the stage of meeting each other's parents. Well, meeting hers.

Mr. and Mrs. Gilman hadn't treated me anywhere near as warmly back then. They'd looked down on me, a poor kid from the countryside with nothing to my name. I had no parents of my own, only a grandfather who was dying by inches.

Violet hated her privileged background for standing in our way, so much that she quietly started planning to run away with me.

I talked her out of it, telling her as gently as I could, "Your parents only said no because they want what's best for you.

"Let's just take some time apart. Once I've made something of myself, I'll go to your family and convince them myself. Is that all right?"

But things never got that far. Fate stepped in first.

Before he died, my grandfather, his body already wasted to almost nothing, dragged himself to beg Mr. and Mrs. Gilman for a favor and donated his own body to the hospital under the Gilmans' name, to be used as an anatomy specimen for medical students.

By the time I found out, his body had already gone cold and been carted off to the dissection lab.

While I was still falling apart over that, another disaster hit.

Peyton Wyatt, who'd just come back into the country, had drugged Violet out of desire for her and taken her to a hotel, intending to force himself on her.

I made it there just in time, burst into the room, and called the police.

Reporting it did nothing to touch the Wyatts, of course. But the trauma left Violet with a severe mental breakdown. For a while she couldn't even care for herself, and she didn't recognize a single person around her.

Eventually, with proper treatment, she recovered physically. But her personality changed completely, and she forgot me.

Looking back on everything now, a nameless bitterness rose in my chest. If Violet and I had never met and fallen in love, would any of this have happened at all? Would my grandfather, the sweet, smiling old man I saw every day, still be alive?

But there was no use dwelling on it. Because of everything that happened, Mr. and Mrs. Gilman turned unusually warm toward me. They asked me to look after Violet for three years and agreed to let us marry.

I told myself my grandfather's death had to count for something, that I owed it to him to see this through and build a happy life for myself.

But these three years had brought me nothing close to happiness.

Now the three-year deadline was up. Violet wanted to marry me after all. But I no longer wanted to marry her.

All I wanted now was to get as far away as possible and live my own life.

In my dream, I saw my grandfather's ashen face, and heard Violet crying.

I jolted awake to find it was already the next day. Half my pillowcase was damp, whether from sweat or tears, I couldn't say.

I forced myself up to check the time. Six days left before I could leave.

Violet hadn't shown up yet, and that put me at ease. It was better this way. I didn't want another fight with her.

But of course, speak of the devil. The thought had barely crossed my mind when noise erupted outside the door.

Violet's voice rang out clearly.

"You work for me! Don't you know who I am? I'm Violet Gilman! Let me in!"

It seemed Mr. and Mrs. Gilman, worried she might hurt me again, had stationed guards outside my door.

It didn't matter. Violet forced the door open anyway.

The moment she saw the bandages wrapped around my head, she froze, a flicker of something uneasy crossing her face. She stepped closer and shoved a container of chicken soup into my hands, her voice cold.

"I made this myself. It's your favorite. Drink it."

I shook my head and smiled.

"No, thanks."