Chapter 9

Even so, he sat down anyway, picking up the knife to cut the cake.

"Wait!"

I reached out and stopped him, grabbing the candles and sticking them into the cake. "You haven't made a wish yet."

Gregory looked caught off guard. His fingers—long, elegant—trembled slightly before he pulled his hand back.

He'd never had a birthday. He'd forgotten the part about candles and wishes.

Once the candles were lit, I nudged him to make a wish. He muttered something about it being annoying, but finally lowered his voice and said, "I hope Nancy's surgery goes well. That she'll be safe and sound."

The words hung in the air. His gaze drifted to me, almost unconsciously. When he saw the light in my eyes dim, something in his chest twisted.

He frowned. Then, almost as if he couldn't help himself, he added, "And I hope yours goes well too. That you'll be safe."

That was the end of it. He stood up to leave.

But right at that moment—without any warning—the chandelier above came crashing down.

The second I saw it falling toward him, my heart seized. If my mission target died, everything would fail.

I didn't think. I just launched myself at him. "Watch out!"

Shards of crystal rained down like shooting stars, the whole room turning into something out of a dream—brilliant, chaotic, beautiful.

And in the middle of that blazing light, I collapsed.

Before everything went black, I caught a glimpse of Gregory's face. He was sprinting toward me—frantic, desperate.

I must've been delirious from the impact.

Because there was no way he'd look at me like that.

I drifted in and out for what felt like forever. When I finally opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room.

Gregory was sitting by my bed. The moment he saw me wake up, his whole demeanor went icy. "Why did you do that? Do you have a death wish?"

My head was still foggy, but I knew one thing for sure—I couldn't tell him the truth.

If he'd died, how would I complete my mission? How would I bring Grayson back?

I held his gaze, steady as I could. "Because I love you."

Gregory froze. He was silent for a few seconds. "Get some rest," he said. Then he left the room.

---

The surgery date was closing in. But Gregory started acting strange.

He visited every day. Brought my favorite desserts.

Probably just making sure I wouldn't back out. Last few days—he'd want to keep me sweet.

He didn't need to worry, though. I wanted this surgery more than he did.

I'd been in bed too long. I needed to move. So I got up and walked around.

At the stairwell, I caught the sound of voices—heated, arguing.

I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I was about to leave when I heard my own name.

Gregory and his friends. Fighting over Nancy.

"Gregory, what the hell are you thinking? You've loved Nancy your whole life. Now she's threatening to kill herself if you marry Cynthia, and you're still dragging your feet?"

A long silence. Then Gregory's voice came through, cold and measured. "If I don't marry her, she won't donate."

The others let out relieved laughs. "Relax. We've all seen how crazy Cynthia is about you. Even if you don't marry her, she'll still go through with it."

"Then you don't have to throw away your happiness. And there's still a shot with Nancy!"

"You've always wanted her, right? And honestly, I've seen the way she's been looking at you lately. No one can resist that kind of devotion."

"She won't say it out loud, but she's definitely falling for you."

They kept going, throwing argument after argument at him. But Gregory stayed quiet.

Finally, they realized something was off. "Gregory—what are you hesitating for? Wait. Don't tell me you're actually falling for Cynthia?"

That seemed to snap him back. His expression hardened, his voice dropping to ice. "Falling for her? That's never going to happen."

I smiled to myself in the hallway. Didn't stick around to hear the rest. Just turned and walked away.