Even after Brendan and I got engaged, if my hand accidentally brushed against his, he would drown his skin in hand sanitizer, scrubbing it raw dozens of times. I swallowed the humiliation, comforting myself with the lie that he just had severe germaphobia. Then his first love, Brook, returned from abroad, and we all ended up at a private lounge playing a game of Never Have I Ever. By the end, only Brook and I were left. She had one finger standing; I still had three. I naively thought I was going to win. Brook merely tilted her glass, offering me a slow, predatory smile. “Never have I ever kissed Brendan.” I froze. My chest seized as I slowly curled one finger down. Watching my hand tremble, her smile widened. “Never have I ever lived with him. Slept in the same bed, showered together, breathed the same air.” “It’s in the past,” I told myself, the silence in the room ringing in my ears like a siren. “It was before me.” I tucked a second finger down. The malice in Brook’s eyes was no longer hidden. It gleamed, sharp and triumphant. “Never have I ever let him try every single position imaginable with me—just one month ago.” My head snapped toward Brendan. He didn’t look at me. He sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in his glass, cold and utterly detached. The blood drained from my face. In hollow despair, I lowered my last finger. Brook had won, but she wasn’t finished. She leaned forward, widening her eyes in mock astonishment. “Wait… from that look on your face, did you really not know? Your brother was the one who booked our hotel suite that night. And your best friend personally brought up the condoms.” The room spun. A sickening numbness rushed through my veins. I looked at my brother, Calvin, and my best friend, Cassidy. Neither of them looked back. Instead, they were smiling warmly at Brook, raising their glasses. “Brook wins again. Amazing as always.” It turned out that from the very beginning, I had never stood a chance. … Staring at the four of them basking in their intimate camaraderie, my voice came out raw, barely above a whisper. “Which day last month are you talking about?” Brook gave an airy shrug. “February twenty-ninth. The night my flight landed. They threw me a private welcome-home party.” A suffocating weight crushed my lungs. February twenty-ninth. A leap-year birthday that only came once every four years. A night I had anticipated for months. That evening, over dinner, my fingers had accidentally grazed Brendan’s wrist. His expression had instantly darkened. He pulled out a bottle of sanitizer and rubbed his skin until it was mottled red. Despite my frantic apologies and tearful pleas, he grabbed his coat and stood up. “I feel dirty,” he had said coldly. “Celebrate your birthday alone. I need to go home and wash.” I had cried alone in that restaurant for hours, tearing myself apart with guilt. “You know he has OCD. Why couldn’t you just be more careful?” While I was drowning in self-loathing, he was tangled in hotel sheets with Brook. What cut even deeper was that the two people I trusted most in the world—my brother, bound to me by blood, and my best friend, whom I considered a sister—had orchestrated the entire betrayal. After Brendan walked out on me that night, I had called them both. Calvin claimed he was swamped at the office. Cassidy claimed a sudden family emergency. Later, as an apology, they sent a single slice of cake to my apartment. The chocolate plaque on top had read “B.R.” I had brushed it off as a bakery error back then. Now I knew: it was just a leftover scrap from Brook’s lavish welcome cake, tossed my way like an afterthought. I must have looked utterly pathetic. Pushing back my chair, I tried to flee, but Brook grabbed my wrist with an iron grip. “Where do you think you’re going, Corinne? A loser has to take her penalty.” She smirked. “How about you slap yourself three times across the face and repeat: “‘I’m a pathetic loser who can’t even get her fiancé to hold her hand.’” Sounds fair, right?” Tears burned behind my eyes. Instinctively, I looked to Brendan for help. His jaw was set, his voice devoid of warmth. “Rules are rules. You lost.” I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. “Can we change the forfeit? Anything else. Like…” “Like calling off the wedding in three days and giving it to her.” Before I could finish, Brook pouted, crossing her arms in annoyance. Seeing her displeasure, Calvin and Cassidy exchanged a quick glance and stepped forward, each grabbing one of my arms. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Corinne,” Calvin said, his voice flat. “If you won’t do it yourself, we’ll just have to help you.” They forced my hands up, gripping my wrists, and used my own palms to strike my face with vicious force. “Slap. Slap. Slap.” Seeing Brook’s delighted smile, they put even more weight behind their blows, Cassidy hissing in my ear, “Say it, Corinne! Say you’re a loser, or we won’t stop!” The copper taste of blood filled my mouth. I bit my tongue so hard it bled, refusing to give them a single syllable. Just as darkness began creeping into the edges of my vision, Brendan set his glass down against the marble table with a sharp “clack”. “That’s enough. Don’t waste the night on her. Brook is the guest of honor.” Only then did Calvin release me. He pulled an exquisite velvet box from his jacket, snapping it open to reveal a diamond necklace worth over a hundred thousand dollars. He fastened it around Brook’s neck with a tender smile. “Welcome home.” I looked down at the frayed plastic keychain hanging from my bag—a five-dollar trinket Calvin had tossed me from a flea market years ago, which I had cherished like a treasure. Cassidy presented Brook with a massive, hand-embroidered tapestry that must have taken months of meticulous labor. Months ago, when I had asked Cassidy for a simple cup coaster, she had dismissed it as too tedious and handed me an unfinished scrap of canvas, which I still carried with me everywhere. Finally, Brendan produced an expensive designer lipstick. The man who once told me that the idea of kissing made him physically sick gently applied the crimson shade to Brook’s lips—and then leaned in, kissing her deeply, tasting every bit of it until not a trace remained. I stood up silently. I tossed the cheap keychain, the canvas scrap, and the diamond engagement ring from my finger straight into the trash can by the door. No one noticed when I slipped out into the freezing night air. The wind bit into my swollen cheeks, but my heart was colder still. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Alex? I’m taking your offer. I’ll join your studio in London.” “On one condition: I need you to run a background check on someone for me.” Early the next morning, my phone chimed with his reply. “The investigation will take a few days.” “Are you certain about this, Corinne? You turned me down so many times before. Isn’t your wedding in three days? And what about Calvin and Cassidy? You always said they were the most important people in your life, that you couldn’t bear to leave them.” It took me a long time to type four words back: “They don’t matter anymore.” After washing the dried blood from my face and concealing the bruises as best as I could, I walked into the office to submit my resignation. The moment I stepped onto the design floor, heads turned. Whispers rippled through the open-plan space like wildfire. “That’s her, right? Tried to seduce the CEO, and his real girlfriend caught her red-handed last night. Her face is still swollen.” I looked over at a nearby desk. The monitor was playing a leaked video of my humiliation from the lounge. Panic surged through me. “That’s not what happened…” I went to raise my hand to show my ring, only to remember I had thrown it away. Beyond that, I had nothing. To keep things professional, Brendan had never spoken to me in public at work. And because of his supposed germaphobia, we didn’t have a single close photograph together. Desperate, I pulled up my phone to show our wedding vendor receipts. “Brendan and I have been together for three years! We’re getting married in three days! Last night was—” A stinging slap across my face cut my words short. Cassidy stood before me, breathing heavily, her face twisted in theatrical righteous indignation. “Have some dignity, Corinne!” She turned toward the gaping crowd, her voice dripping with sorrow. “As her best friend, I can’t stay silent anymore. Corinne has been using unethical, disgusting methods to climb the corporate ladder. Last night, I forced her to apologize to Miss Rowe. Brook is Mr. Harrington’s only true love.” The room erupted into sneers. “No wonder she made director so fast. Sold her body for a title. Shameless.” A few junior male colleagues looked me up and down, someone letting out a vile catcall. “Hey, if you’re open for business, why not look our way too?” Their predatory stares felt like grease on my skin, making me want to vomit. Suddenly, a tall silhouette blocked them out. Brendan stood in front of me. With a single icy glare, the men shrank back into their cubicles like cowards. “Anyone caught spreading rumors can report directly to HR for termination.” One employee boldly piped up, “Mr. Harrington, is the video real? How can someone with zero morals stay on as creative director?” Brendan glanced back at me. Taking in my pale, battered face, a flicker of something resembling pity brushed his eyes. He knew better than anyone that I had earned every single accolade through sleepless nights and backbreaking work. Before he could speak, Brook glided into the lobby, slipping her arm naturally through his. She looked up at him with wide, fragile eyes. “Brendan… you’re not going to cover for her, are you? If you do, everyone will think I’m the villain.” Brendan looked away from me. He erased every trace of hesitation, his voice ringing cold and absolute: “Effective immediately, Corinne is stripped of her director title.” My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that they broke the skin. The collective scorn of the room sliced through me like dull blades. Brook beamed, signaling Cassidy to distribute ivory envelopes to the staff. “Brendan and I are getting married this Saturday. Please, everyone come celebrate with us!” I didn’t even need to step aside. The bride had already been replaced. Among the shower of congratulations, a few cruel remarks drifted over. “Miss Rowe and Mr. Harrington are a match made in heaven. Some desperate social climber touched his jacket last week and he threw it straight in the incinerator. Does she really have no self-awareness?” Fearing I might speak out, Cassidy grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the building. “I bet you’re dying to know why the bride is Brook and not you,” Cassidy whispered venomously. “It’s time you learned the truth.” She hauled me to the penthouse Brendan had bought as our marital home. The digital lock code had already been changed to Brook’s birthday. Inside, moving crews were busy hauling away the minimalist oak furniture I had spent months selecting, replacing it with the ornate, vintage aesthetic Brook favored. Matching couple slippers, matching monogrammed mugs, matching silk robes—things Brendan had always called “childish and suffocating” when I asked for them—were scattered everywhere. Cassidy dragged me up the spiral staircase to the loft. Originally, Brendan had converted this entire space into a custom indoor planetarium for me. Knowing my love for astronomy, he had hired a renowned lighting architect to map out the constellations across the vaulted ceiling. The night it was finished, I had wept with joy. He had dropped to one knee, looking up at me with fierce devotion: “Corinne, you are the brightest star in my universe. My love for you is like the night sky—eternal.” Now, it was completely gutted. The stars were gone. In their place was an enormous gallery wall covered in glossy photographs of Brendan and Brook kissing, laughing, and embracing in cities all over the world. Cassidy watched my face lose its last drop of color and let out a cruel laugh. “Did you really think he loved you? Let me tell you the truth. When Brook went abroad to study, she was terrified long distance would make him stray. So she set a test.” “She ordered him to find a placeholder girlfriend. But he wasn’t allowed to touch her. If he ever made physical contact by mistake, he had to scrub himself raw with disinfectant to prove his absolute loyalty to Brook.” The realization hit me like a physical blow. He had approached me solely to pass Brook’s test. The germaphobia was never an illness. He just never loved me. Not even for a second. I turned blindly toward the door, but Cassidy shoved me back against the wall, forcing my head up toward the photos. “Every major holiday—New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, even your anniversaries—when he told you he was on a business trip? He was flying to Europe to be with Brook. Calvin and I went along too. We were the ones who took these pictures.” My voice shattered. “Why? Why did you do this to me?” When we were thirteen, Cassidy had been cornered in an alley by violent delinquents. I had charged in with a broken bottle to pull her out, taking a blade to my waist that left a jagged scar I still carried. Back then, she had sobbed into my shoulder, swearing we were sisters for life. My question contorted her face with sudden rage. “Because you make me sick, Corinne! I worked just as hard as you, but you were always the one getting promoted while I stayed an assistant! Well, Brook promised me your director seat. And I’ll do a far better job than you ever did.” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my throat. “All of this… for a job title.” Defensive, Cassidy dragged me out to the grand cathedral that was supposed to host my wedding. She pointed toward the altar, where Calvin was directing the florists. “Selfish? What about your own brother?” she sneered. “Calvin was the one who told Brendan to pick you. Because with you as the girlfriend, we could monitor Brendan twenty-four seven to make sure he kept his hands to himself for Brook.” Tears blurred my vision as I looked at my brother. When our parents went bankrupt and jumped from their office building, Calvin and I had survived in a damp basement together. When we only had one piece of bread, I would pretend I wasn’t hungry and give him the bigger half. He used to stroke my hair and promise, “Don’t be scared, Corinne. Your big brother will always protect you.” Now, Calvin was personally ordering the workers to tear out every white lily—my favorite flower—and replace them with thousands of crimson roses, Brook’s favorite. Seeing me standing there, weeping silently, Calvin only sighed with mild irritation. “Brendan always loved Brook, Corinne. Don’t hold a grudge against us. You got three comfortable years out of it, didn’t you?” I parted my lips to speak, but the suffocating scent of thousands of fresh roses hit my airways. I am violently allergic to roses. My throat closed up. My vision went black, and my body crumpled toward the cold marble floor. Right before consciousness slipped away, I heard a frantic shout. “What is wrong with you two?! Did you forget she’s lethal to roses?!” When I opened my eyes, the harsh smell of hospital antiseptic stung my nose. Brendan was sitting at my bedside, his eyes bloodshot, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. The moment he saw me stir, he grabbed my hand with trembling intensity. “Corinne! You’re awake. Does it hurt anywhere?” Once, a touch from him would have made my heart soar for days. Now, I felt only a visceral revulsion. I pulled my hand away from his grip. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Harrington. If you touch me, aren’t you afraid your precious Brook will be disgusted?” His face froze. He swallowed hard before speaking in a low, pleading tone. “I know you’re angry. But over these past three years… I truly fell in love with you.” “The night Brook returned, I went there to break things off for good. But we drank too much, things got out of hand, and now she’s pregnant with my baby. I have to marry her to give the child a name.” “It’s just a piece of paper, Corinne. If you can accept this, we can keep living together just like before. I’ll keep her separate from you. If you want a wedding ceremony, I’ll give you a private one anywhere in the world—” “Shut up!” I screamed, my voice raw and cracking. “Get out!” Seeing the pure hatred in my eyes, Brendan backed down. He stood up slowly, looking miserable. “You always feel better when you eat something sweet. I’ll go downstairs and get your favorite strawberry shortcake.” The second he left, the door swung open, and Brook walked in. She stood over my bed, crossing her arms. “Did you really think him rushing you to the hospital meant he cared?” “You had him for three years, and who did he choose in the end? Me. Some people are just born losers, Corinne. In games, and in life.” I stared at her through dead, empty eyes. “You won. Are you done?” Brook’s lips curled into a sinister grin. Suddenly, she reached down, seized my wrist, and pressed my hand hard against her lower abdomen. “Not quite. I need you permanently eradicated.” Before I could pull away, she threw herself backward with a blood-curdling scream, crashing violently against the bedside table. In seconds, crimson blood pooled beneath her white dress. The door flew open. Calvin rushed in. Without waiting for a single explanation, he grabbed me by my hair and ripped me off the hospital bed, slamming me onto the linoleum. “You psychotic bitch! How could you attack a pregnant woman?!” Brendan walked through the door at that exact moment. The cake box slipped from his hands, splattering across the floor. He dropped to his knees, scooping Brook into his arms. She wept hysterically against his chest. “Brendan… I just came to check on her! But she said if the baby died, you wouldn’t want me anymore! She pushed me! My stomach… it hurts so much…” Brendan looked at me. The coldness in his eyes chilled me to the bone. “It wasn’t me,” I gasped, clutching my bruised scalp. “She did it herself—” No one listened. They were all crowded around Brook, shouting for doctors. “Don’t cry, baby,” Brendan murmured fiercely. “We can have another child. If she made you suffer, I swear to God I’ll make her feel ten times the pain!” Cassidy ran in holding a medical device. “Use this! It’s a labor pain simulator. Let her feel what she stole from you!” Terror flooded my chest as Calvin and Cassidy pinned my thrashing limbs to the floor. Brendan knelt beside me, his expression stony and remorseless, and slapped the electric conductive pads directly onto my bare abdomen. He turned the dial to Level 8. A brutal surge of electricity ripped through my nervous system. My spine arched violently off the floor. Blood-curdling screams tore from my throat as my muscles seized in excruciating agony. I lost control of my bladder, my vision fracturing into white static. “Please… stop! My heart… I’m going to die!” I clawed desperately at the pads, but Calvin and Cassidy pressed down harder on my shoulders, locking me in place. Brendan’s jaw clenched. He turned the dial all the way to maximum—Level 10. The world shattered into sheer, unimaginable torment. My vocal cords locked; I couldn’t even scream anymore. My limbs convulsed wildly for what felt like eternity before going completely limp and still. Brendan looked down at my motionless body, a sudden flicker of panic crossing his features. He reached out a trembling hand, but Brook weakly grabbed his sleeve. “Brendan, don’t let her fool you… she’s just faking it for sympathy. What I felt was a thousand times worse than that.” She whimpered softly. “The wedding is in two hours, and the venue still needs final checks. Let’s just go.” With one arm around Calvin and the other around Brendan, Brook was helped out of the room. Cassidy cast a brief, uneasy look at my limp form on the floor, but turned and followed them out. Seconds after the door closed, a rounding nurse walked in to check my vitals. Her clipboard clattered to the floor, followed by a piercing shriek. “Crash cart! Patient is in full cardiac arrest! Get the defibrillator in here now!” When I opened my eyes again, the sterile walls of the Intensive Care Unit came into focus. Through the cracked door, the faint audio from a lobby television drifted in: “Billionaire real estate heir Brendan Harrington’s wedding of the century is about to begin, cementing a fairy-tale romance after years apart…” Summoning the last ounce of strength in my broken body, I reached for my phone on the bedside tray. I uploaded the hospital room’s high-definition security footage and a 20-page investigative dossier directly into the family group chat, tagging both Brendan and Calvin. “Did either of you truly believe that non-existent baby was yours?”
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