Masuk[Lily's POV]David closed his eyes. The guilt was radiating off him in waves, it was almost visible, almost tactile. The kind of guilt that a skilled operator could use as a lever."You're right," he said. "I haven't been fair to you. I should have explained. I should have been honest about what was happening instead of shutting you out.""Then, why didn't you?""Because I didn't know how." He opened his eyes, and they were wet again. Not exactly crying, not quite, but close. The surfaces of his irises were liquid with the effort of containing everything he was feeling."I didn't know how to tell you that the woman I was married to is dying and I can't save her. I didn't know how to explain that being with her doesn't mean I don't love you. It means I can't abandon someone who is dying, even if she’s no longer my wife, even if…"He stopped. Ran a hand over his face.I watched him. Waited. I let the silence do its work."I love you," David said. "I'm marrying you. That hasn't changed."
[Lily's POV]He saved her on the bridge. He's saving her now. He'll always save her, because that's who he is — a rescuer, a protector, a man who defines himself by the women who need him. That scenario worked for me when I turned to him after my husband died. He instinctively reached out to protect me. That’s just the way he is.And now I’m taken care of and engaged, I’m no longer the one who needs him the most. I’ve suddenly found myself in the unthinkable position of being surplus. Not needed. Not the priority.Here I am standing in a bathroom while the man I fought for is sitting at another woman's bedside, and weeping.But if Alice is dying...Then I just need to wait. I need to be patient. I need to be the supportive, understanding fiancée who stands by her man while he navigates this tragedy. And when it's over, when Alice is gone, he'll come back to me. He'll have no one else. The whole situation will have cemented his loyalty to me in a way that no concocted scheme ever could
[Lily's POV]I ran.Not because I wanted to. I mean, Lily McCutchen never ran from anything! But I ran because my legs were moving before my mind could stop them. They carried me down the corridor, past the nurses' station, through the ornate double doors of the private ward, into the marble lobby where the afternoon light was streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything was gold and gleaming and absolutely indifferent to the fact that my life was falling apart.I found a bathroom. Locked the door. Braced my hands against the basin and stared at myself in the mirror.The reflection was a disaster. Mascara tracks like tar stripes down my cheeks. My nose was red and swollen. My eyes were puffy, bloodshot. The careful makeup I had spent forty minutes applying this morning was ruined beyond salvage. I looked like a woman who had been crying, which after all was exactly what I was, and the fact that the tears were real — genuinely, horrifyingly real — made the whole thing worse.
[Alice's POV]"Shut up!"She pushed past him, one hand already raised. I noticed that her nails were painted a deep crimson that looked like dried blood, as she reached for my face."You couldn't just let him go. You couldn't just die like you're supposed to. You have to take him back, you have to!"The slap connected with my cheek.But it wasn't a slap — not the controlled, precise slap that Marie had given Adam. This was a scratch, nails dragging across my skin, leaving thin lines of fire in their wake. I felt the skin break, felt the warm trickle of blood. But I didn't fight back. I couldn't fight back; my body was sluggish with exhaustion and the weight of the life inside me.Then David's arms were around her, grabbing her, pulling her away, his face a mask of stunned fury.“What are you doing?" he demanded, his grip on her arms was tight enough to bruise."What am I doing? What are you doing?" Lily twisted in his grip, her eyes wild, her voice breaking. "I come here — I find you
[Alice's POV]His voice cracked on the last word. I looked at him, and for a moment, just a moment, I saw the man I had married. Not the stranger he had become, the man who had chosen Lily over me, but the David who had once stood with me in a Paris shop window and noticed what I wanted before I could say it.That David had been gone for a long time. But here, with a ten-year-old scarf in his hands and tears in his eyes, I could almost see his ghost."David," I said gently. "Thank you for the scarf. But —""I know," he said. "It's too late. I know it's too late. I'm not —" He stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "I'm not trying to win you back, Alice. I know I lost that right a long time ago. I'm just trying to... remind you. Of what we had. Of what we could have again, if you'd just —" "If I'd just what?""If you'd let go of this dangerous pregnancy. If you'd choose treatment. If you'd let me give you a future instead of…""Instead of this child?" I pulled the scarf from his hands and
[Alice's POV]She hesitated. Then she nodded, turned, and left, the door clicking shut behind her.I looked at the food. The consommé was steaming gently, the surface smooth and golden. It was the kind of broth that was designed to nourish without requiring effort from a body too weak to digest anything more substantial.The fruit was arranged with the precision of a still life, including kiwifruit, strawberry, mango. Each slice was identical in thickness. The bread rolls were golden brown and smelled like butter and yeast and the ordinary, domestic comfort of a kitchen where someone had taken the time to make something warm.I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it. I wanted to be back at my villa, with Adam making terrible coffee and Camilla demanding pancakes and the emerald sofa and the amber light and the simple, irreplaceable feeling of being home.I wanted my life back. Not this monitored, luxurious non-life that David had constructed around me like a cage made of Egyptian cot
[Alice’s POV]The Swiss winter wasn't just cold; it had a way of biting through you, a cruel precision that seemed to target the bones. I pulled my wool scarf tighter around my neck, trying to preserve the little heat I had managed to generate. It was a losing battle. My metabolism was burning thro
[Alice’s POV]The air on the terrace was freezing, but the tension radiating from the man approaching us was colder.Adam didn't rush. He moved with a calculated, predatory grace, his tuxedo fitting him like a suit of armor. I gripped the armrests of my wheelchair hard with both hands. My heart was
[Alice 's POV]The air in the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of lilies and chilled, expensive champagne. It was a world away from the sterile silence of the lab, a shimmering bubble of old-world wealth that felt like a fever dream.Endall stayed at my side, his hand hovering near the small
[Alice’s POV]The villa sat on the edge of the research institute’s grounds, tucked away behind a stand of ancient, snow-dusted pines. From the outside, it was all sleek glass and cold stone, but the moment Endall pushed my wheelchair across the threshold, the world changed.The air hit me first. I







