Chapter 3

Meritt's POV

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a soft thud.

The humiliating display was still happening. Through my rage, my eyes immediately locked onto the sofa. Stella was by his side, her head resting against Michael’s chest as she giggled at his friend's cruel imitation of my trauma.

And Michael?

He just sat there with a faint smile on his lips. He didn’t stop them, he just watched.

Then, the friend who was mocking me turned around and his stupid laughter died instantly in his throat. His face went pale at once as if he had just seen a ghost.

One by one, the others turned around, following his gaze. A sudden ruled the air in the room.

Stella blinked, sensing the terror in the air and sat up, her eyes landing on me.

I saw how composed she was, calculating quickly on how to lighten the air before she quickly masked it with an innocent smile.

She stood up and walked toward me, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

"You must be Meritt," she said, her voice laced with feigned warmth.

She stopped just an inch away, stretching her hand out for a handshake. But her eyes weren't on my face. They were drifting to the left side of my head, desperately trying to see through the hair that hid my scars.

Before I could even react, Michael was suddenly there. He stepped between us, towering over me. He quickly wore the usual perfectly composed and gentle mask and stared at me with so much care.

"Meritt, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "They were just making jokes. Don't take it so seriously."

Jokes? How delusional of him!

My heart shattered all over again. My ruined career, my destroyed face, the night I almost died for him, it was all just a thing to joke about to him and his friends. And in a moment like this, he was taking their side.

"I'll apologize on their behalf," he continued smoothly, lowering his voice. "Whatever you want as compensation, just name it. Let's not make a scene."

He reached out, his arm moving to wrap around my shoulders to take me out of the room like I was a thing of shame.

I stepped back quickly and he grabbed empty air.

His eyes widened in shock.

For six years, I had never rejected his touch. The friend who had mocked me looked away and nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah, Meritt, come on. It was just a joke, we didn't mean anything by it..."

I stared at him, my voice heavy with disgust.

"Is the burn on my face a joke to you?"

The friend flinched, stepping back quickly.

Sensing the tension, Stella stepped forward and forcefully grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly tight for someone so delicate.

"Oh, Meritt, please don't be mad!" she pleaded, her eyes welling up with dramatic tears. "It's all my fault. Just be angry at me alone. Please don't let me make things awkward for everyone here!"

Her fake sympathy made my stomach churn and I yanked my hand back with force.

"Don't touch me."

Stella stumbled back, letting out a pitiful cry as if I had struck her. She looked up at Michael, her eyes heavy with perfect tears.

"Michael... does she hate me? I didn't mean to upset her."

Michael's gentle mask finally vanished and was replaced by a cold stare. He stepped in front of Stella and looked down at me.

"Meritt, enough," he scolded, his firm. "Stella is just trying to be nice. There is no need for you to be this rude and unreasonable."

Unreasonable? Wow! I'm the unreasonable one now.

I looked at the man I had loved for so long, the same man I walked through fire for. He was here protecting another woman from me, scolding me for not accepting their mockery.

I didn't have the energy to argue. The exhaustion in my soul was too heavy to argue with their stupidity. Without another word, I turned around and walked out, leaving them behind.

As I stepped out of the restaurant into the chilling night air, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the recording studio.

"Miss Meritt? I'm so sorry, but we have a major equipment failure tonight. We're going to have to reschedule your demo for tomorrow morning."

"That's fine," I whispered, hanging up.

I looked down the street. Going back to that empty and agonizing mansion was out of the question tonight. I called a cab and gave the driver the address to a nearby hotel.

Once I paid for the room and the door clicked shut behind me, the strong facade I had been holding on to finally broke.

I slid down to the floor, my knees resting against my chest as the tears I had refused to shed in that room finally poured out. I sobbed until my throat was dry.

It wasn't just the judging and mocking eyes or the cruel laughter that broke me.

It was him.

He never defended me at all. Instead, he just stood there and watched them tear me apart, and then he blamed me for reacting.

Suddenly, the annoying ringtone of my phone disturbed the silent peace of the room.

My vision was blurred with the tears but I wiped it off and looked at the screen glowing on the bed.

Michael.