The pale morning light filtered through my curtains as I admired the wedding dress sketches scattered across my desk. Six years of loving Julian, and in three days, I’d finally be Mrs. Grayson. I traced my fingers over the intricate lace design I’d spent months perfecting—my masterpiece as both a bride and a designer. My phone shattered the peaceful moment, vibrating violently against the nightstand. Cherry, my assistant at Ashworth Bespoke, rarely called this early. “Hazel, I’m so sorry to disturb you,” she said, her voice tight with tension. “Julian just came by the studio and took the wedding dress.” I sat up straight, confusion clouding my mind. “What? Why would he do that?” “I don’t know. He just said it was urgent and that you knew about it.” Cherry’s voice quivered. “I tried calling you first, but he insisted it was fine.” A cold sensation crept up my spine. Julian knew the tradition—the groom shouldn’t see the dress before the wedding. “It’s okay, Cherry. I’ll handle it.” I immediately dialed Julian’s number, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Julian, where are you? Cherry said you took my wedding dress.” The silence on the other end stretched painfully before he finally spoke. “I’m at Memorial Hospital.” “Hospital? Are you okay?” Panic surged through me. “I’m fine, but… Hazel, we need to talk.” Something in his voice made my stomach twist. “What’s going on?” “The wedding… it’s canceled.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of my bed, suddenly dizzy. “What are you talking about?” “It’s Ivy. She’s been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Stage four. The doctors say she has three months at most.” Ivy. My half-sister. The daughter of the woman who had destroyed my mother’s life. “What does that have to do with our wedding?” I whispered, already dreading the answer. “Her dying wish… she wants to marry me, Hazel.” His voice cracked. “How can I deny a dying woman her last wish?” The room seemed to spin around me. Six years together, countless blood donations to help Julian with his rare blood disease, and he was throwing it all away for Ivy? “You’re canceling our wedding to marry my stepsister?” I could barely force the words out. “Half-sister,” he corrected gently. “And yes. I’m sorry, Hazel. I never meant to hurt you.” Memories flooded back—Ivy’s mother, Eleanor, seducing my father while my mother was pregnant with me. My father abandoning us, my mother spiraling into depression until she took her own life. Ivy and Eleanor moving into our family home while I was relegated to the servants’ quarters. My father using my mother’s family business as a dowry to win Eleanor’s hand. “This isn’t just about a wedding, Julian. You know what she and her mother did to my family.” “People change, Hazel. She’s dying.” His voice hardened. “Look, I know this is difficult. I’m prepared to compensate you—fifty percent of Grayson Enterprises.” “Compensate me?” I choked out. “Like I’m a business transaction?” “Be reasonable. Think about what that stake could do for your fashion line.” Something snapped inside me. The tears that had been threatening to fall dried up, replaced by a cold, clear fury. “Where is my wedding dress now?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. “At Ivy’s. She’s having it altered.” Of course she was. Ivy had spent our entire childhood taking everything that was mine—my father’s love, my inheritance, my home. Now she was taking my fiancé and wearing my handcrafted wedding dress while doing it. “I see.” I hung up without another word. I sat motionless, staring at the wall. The dress I’d poured my heart into, the wedding I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl, the man I thought loved me—all snatched away in an instant. My phone buzzed again. My best friend Victoria. “Have you heard?” she demanded without preamble. “Just now.” “That absolute piece of garbage! And Ivy—using cancer as an excuse to steal your man? Classic her.” “He offered me half his company as compensation,” I said numbly. “Half? That cheap bastard should give you the whole damn thing! After all you’ve done for him?” Victoria’s outrage ignited something in me. She was right. For six years, I’d been Julian’s blood donor, literally keeping him alive with my rare Rh-negative blood type—”panda blood,” as the doctors called it. I’d nursed him through his illness, built my career around our future together, and this was how he repaid me? I thought of my mother, how she’d withered away after my father’s betrayal. How Eleanor had paraded around in my mother’s jewelry, slept in my mother’s bed, while my mother faded into a shell of herself. I would not become my mother. “Hazel? Are you still there?” Victoria’s concerned voice pulled me back. “I’m calling him back,” I said decisively. “Good! Tell him exactly where he can shove his fifty percent!” After hanging up, I dialed Julian’s number again. He answered on the first ring. “Hazel, I’m glad you called. I know this is a lot to process—” “Julian,” I cut him off, my voice cool and steady. “I’ve considered your offer.” “You have?” Hope tinged his voice. He’d expected me to fall apart, to beg and plead. “Yes. It’s unacceptable.” “Hazel, please be reasonable—” “Give me the entire company, and I’ll give up the position of bride.” The words flowed with surprising ease. “If you agree, come back tonight, and we’ll sign the agreement.” Silence stretched between us. I could almost see his shocked expression. “The… entire company? Hazel, that’s my family legacy.” “And marrying me was supposed to be your future. You’ve made your choice. Now I’m making mine.” I paused. “Tonight, Julian. Either come with ownership papers, or don’t come at all.” I ended the call before he could respond, surprising myself with my newfound steel. The devastated bride was gone. In her place stood a woman who refused to be discarded without extracting a proper price. The ball was in his court now. 2- The Fiancé’s Final Insult I spent the day in a haze of anger, meticulously packing Julian’s things into boxes. Six years of shared life reduced to cardboard containers lined up by the door. His favorite coffee mug. Those hideous plaid pajamas I’d always threatened to burn. The silver cufflinks I’d given him for our first anniversary. With each item, I unearthed memories I was determined to bury. My hands worked mechanically while my mind kept replaying Julian’s betrayal over and over. “Your wedding dress looks better on Ivy anyway,” I muttered sarcastically, tossing his prized golf trophy into a box with less care than it deserved. The satisfying crack it made as it hit his college diploma frame brought me a fleeting moment of joy. Just before seven, the doorbell rang. I smoothed down my black dress—deliberately chosen to look like I was attending a funeral—and opened the door. Julian stood there looking haggard, but it was the woman behind him who caught my attention. Mrs. Landon, Julian’s mother, her lips pursed in disapproval as she surveyed me. “Hazel,” Julian said, his expression a practiced mix of guilt and resolve. “You remember my mother.” “Mrs. Landon,” I nodded coolly, stepping aside to let them in. “I thought we’d moved past the formality, dear,” she said with a thin smile. “You used to call me Mom.” “That was before your son decided to marry my sister instead of me,” I replied sweetly. “Please, come in. The boxes by the door are Julian’s things.” Julian winced. “Hazel, I know this is difficult—” “Is that the agreement?” I cut him off, pointing to the folder in his hand. He nodded, following me to the dining table. His mother trailed behind, her heels clicking disapprovingly on my hardwood floors. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Hazel,” Mrs. Landon said as we sat down. “After everything our family has done for you. Julian gave you your start in fashion, introduced you to all the right people—” “Mother, please,” Julian interrupted, but I was already leaning forward. “What your family did for me?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. “You mean besides Julian using my rare blood type to keep himself alive for the past six years? Or perhaps you’re referring to how he’s currently wearing the wedding tux I designed while planning to marry my sister?” Mrs. Landon’s face flushed. “You’re being unreasonable. Ivy is dying—” “So you keep telling me.” I turned to Julian. “The agreement?” Julian slid the folder across the table. I opened it, scanning the documents that transferred ownership of A&G Bespoke entirely to me. Our jointly founded fashion company would now be mine alone. It felt hollow—a business victory that couldn’t patch the hole in my heart. “It’s all there,” Julian said. “As you demanded.” “Not quite everything,” I said, placing the documents down. “There’s the matter of my wedding dress.” Julian blinked. “What about it?” “I want one million for it.” Mrs. Landon gasped. “One million dollars? For a dress? Have you lost your mind?” I kept my eyes fixed on Julian. “That dress took me six months to design and create. Italian silk, French lace, hand-sewn crystals. It’s an Ashworth original worth every penny.” “This is extortion,” Mrs. Landon hissed. Julian held up his hand to silence his mother. “It’s fine. I’ll transfer the money.” “Julian!” his mother protested. “No, Mother. She’s right.” He pulled out his phone, making the transfer with a few taps. My phone dinged with the notification, and I checked it before continuing. “Now,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “I believe we’re done here.” Julian shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, there’s one more thing.” Of course there was. I raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Ivy… she was hoping you might let her have the wedding jewelry set as well. The one you had custom-made to match the dress.” I stared at him in disbelief. The jewelry set—a diamond and sapphire necklace, earrings, and bracelet I’d designed myself. The sapphires matched my eyes exactly. “She’s dying, Hazel,” Julian added quietly. “It would mean the world to her.” “What exactly does she want my jewelry for when she’s going to be dead in three months?” I asked coldly. Mrs. Landon gasped again. “How dare you speak about your sister that way!” “Half-sister,” I corrected, just as Julian had done to me on the phone. “And she’s made my life hell since we were children.” Julian leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “Hazel, I know things haven’t been easy between you two, but people can change. Ivy has changed. The illness has made her reflect on her life.” I almost laughed at his naivety. “Has it? Or is she just continuing her lifelong hobby of taking what’s mine?” “Please,” Julian whispered. “I’ll make it up to you. After… after Ivy passes, we could still have our future together. An even grander wedding, I promise.” The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at him, unable to process what I’d just heard. “You think,” I finally said, each word sharp as glass, “that after you marry my sister in my wedding dress, I’ll just wait patiently for her to die so we can pick up where we left off?” Julian had the decency to look ashamed, but he pressed on. “I still love you, Hazel. This doesn’t change that. It’s just… it’s the right thing to do for someone who’s suffering.” I felt something break inside me—the last thread of affection I’d been clinging to. This wasn’t just betrayal; it was delusion of the highest order. “Julian,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, “you are truly the most pathetic man I’ve ever known.” “Now see here—” Mrs. Landon began, but I silenced her with a look. “Fine,” I said, turning back to Julian. “Another million for the jewelry set.” “Two million dollars for jewelry and a dress?” Mrs. Landon sputtered. “Two million dollars is a small price to pay for stealing someone’s fiancé and wedding,” I countered. Julian nodded, making the second transfer without argument. My phone pinged again. I signed the company transfer agreement, pushing it back across the table. “You pay me the money, and tomorrow, I will personally deliver the full set of jewelry to the hospital, and visit my good sister while I’m at it.” A flash of uncertainty crossed Julian’s face. He knew my relationship with Ivy well enough to be concerned about what such a visit might entail. “Hazel, maybe I should—” “No,” I cut him off firmly. “You’ve made your choice, Julian. Now live with it.” I stood up, signaling the end of our meeting. “Take your boxes on the way out. I won’t be home tomorrow to let the movers in.” Mrs. Landon looked like she wanted to say more, but Julian took her arm, guiding her toward the door. “Thank you, Hazel,” he said quietly. “I know this isn’t easy.” I didn’t respond, just watched as he awkwardly gathered the first load of boxes. At the door, he paused, looking back at me with those eyes I once thought were sincere. “I really do love you,” he said. “I always will.” I met his gaze steadily. “Goodbye, Julian.” After the door closed behind them, I sank onto the couch, staring at my phone. Two million dollars. A small fortune that did nothing to fill the void his betrayal had left. Tomorrow, I would see Ivy. My half-sister who had spent her life trying to take everything from me. Who was now supposedly dying, yet still found the energy to steal my wedding, my fiancé, and now my jewelry. I picked up the small velvet box containing the sapphire set, opening it to see the stones gleaming in the lamplight. They were exquisite—and perfect for what I had planned. I smiled for the first time that day. If Ivy wanted my jewelry so badly, I would be delighted to give it to her personally. And unlike Julian’s ridiculous fantasy, I had no intention of waiting around for her to die before reclaiming my life. Tomorrow, the real reckoning would begin. 3- A Wedding Stolen, A Fury Unleashed The satisfying slam of the door behind Julian and his mother wasn’t nearly enough. The moment they stepped outside, I sank to the floor, my body trembling with rage. Six years. Six years I had given Julian Grayson, and this was how he repaid me. My dog, Bentley, a gentle golden retriever who usually avoided conflict, sensed my distress and padded over. His warm body pressed against mine, offering silent comfort. “You’re the only male I can trust,” I whispered, burying my face in his soft fur. The doorbell rang again. I jerked my head up, fury rekindled. “What now?” I hissed. Through the peephole, I saw Julian standing there alone, shifting nervously from one foot to another. “Hazel?” he called through the door. “I forgot my watch collection.” I glanced at the expensive box sitting on the side table—the one containing the luxury watches I’d gifted him over the years. Something dark and vengeful rose inside me. “Oh, you want your watches?” I shouted back. I grabbed the box, yanked the door open, and thrust it into his startled hands. Then I reached for the papers we’d just signed. “And here’s our agreement,” I snarled, flinging the papers in his face. “Take it all and get out of my life!” “Hazel, please—” “Bentley,” I commanded, pointing at Julian. “Sic him!” My usually docile retriever, picking up on my rage, started barking furiously. Julian stumbled backward in alarm as Bentley lunged forward, stopping just at the threshold. “You’re crazy!” Julian gasped, retreating down the steps. “I’m crazy? You’re marrying my dying sister in my wedding dress!” I screamed after him. “Get off my property before I let him loose for real!” I slammed the door again, hearing Julian’s hasty retreat. The adrenaline coursing through me was both exhilarating and exhausting. “Good boy,” I whispered to Bentley, who immediately returned to his gentle self, licking my hand as if in apology for his brief ferocity. Sleep eluded me that night. By morning, I was operating on pure vindictive energy. The two million dollars sat in my account like blood money. I dressed carefully in a crimson blouse and black skirt—war colors. My makeup was flawless, armor against the day ahead. My phone rang as I was gathering my purse. My father’s name flashed on the screen. I contemplated ignoring it but decided to face him head-on. “Hello, Father.” “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harrison Ashworth’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Julian called me. You set your dog on him?” I laughed coldly. “Bentley didn’t touch your precious almost-son-in-law. Unlike Julian, he knows the meaning of loyalty.” “You listen to me, girl,” my father growled. “Ivy is dying. The least you can do is show some compassion.” “Compassion?” The word tasted bitter. “Where was Ivy’s compassion when she stole my fiancé? Where was your compassion when you let your new wife drive my mother to depression?” “Don’t you dare bring your mother into this! Eleanor has been nothing but good to you—” “Good to me?” I interrupted incredulously. “She’s been trying to push me out of your life since day one! And now her daughter is marrying my fiancé, and you’re defending them?” “Ivy deserves some happiness in her final months,” he insisted. “And Julian’s doing the honorable thing.” “The honorable thing would have been for him to stay faithful to me,” I snapped. “But don’t worry, Father. I’m coming to the hospital today to give Ivy my blessing—and my wedding jewelry.” “You are?” His suspicion was palpable. “Four o’clock. Don’t be late.” I hung up before he could respond. At the hospital, I marched through the sterile hallways with purpose, the velvet jewelry box in one hand and another, larger bag in the other. I paused outside Ivy’s private room, hearing voices within. “She’s always been jealous of you,” Eleanor’s unmistakable voice drifted through the partially open door. “Even as a child, she resented that you were prettier, more talented.” I bit back a laugh. The delusion was astonishing. “She’s probably celebrating that I’m dying,” Ivy’s weak voice replied. “She never wanted a sister.” “That’s not true, darling. But she’s always been difficult, just like her mother. Harrison should never have married that woman.” My blood boiled at the mention of my mother. I’d heard enough. I pushed the door open with more force than necessary, making Eleanor jump. “Hazel!” she exclaimed, her hand fluttering to her throat. “We didn’t hear you come in.” “Clearly,” I said dryly. “Please, don’t stop on my account. You were saying something about my mother?” Eleanor at least had the decency to flush. Ivy lay in the hospital bed, looking pale and thin, but her eyes still held that calculating light I knew too well. “I brought you something,” I said, approaching the bed. I placed the velvet box on her lap. “Your fiancé paid quite handsomely for this.” Ivy opened the box, her eyes widening at the sapphire and diamond set. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, lifting the necklace. “Yes, they are,” I agreed. “Custom-designed to match my eyes—not yours. But I suppose that’s fitting. Julian never could see clearly.” The door opened again, and my father entered, followed closely by Julian. Their expressions shifted from surprise to wariness when they saw me standing by Ivy’s bed. “Hazel,” my father acknowledged stiffly. “I didn’t expect you so soon.” “I had another gift to deliver,” I explained, holding up the second bag. “A traditional Chinese custom to drive away bad luck.” Before anyone could react, I pulled out a string of firecrackers from my bag and lit them with a small lighter. The rapid popping filled the room as I tossed them onto the floor. “What are you doing?” Eleanor shrieked, jumping back. The smoke detectors wailed in response, and seconds later, the sprinklers activated, drenching everyone in the room. Ivy screamed as water soaked her hospital gown and bedding. Julian lunged forward to shield her, getting equally drenched. “Hazel, have you lost your mind?” my father roared, his expensive suit now ruined. I stood calmly in the downpour, water streaming down my face. “Just bringing good fortune to the happy couple,” I said sweetly. Nurses and security rushed in, evacuating patients from nearby rooms. In the chaos, I was escorted out, but not before catching Ivy’s look of pure hatred. It warmed my heart more than any firecracker could. Two hours later, after Ivy had been moved to a new room and everyone had changed into dry clothes, I returned. This time, hospital security eyed me suspiciously. “I’m just here to talk,” I assured them, hands raised in mock surrender. Inside the new room, the atmosphere was frigid. My father stood protectively by Ivy’s bed, while Julian sat in a chair, head in his hands. Eleanor glared at me from across the room. “You’re lucky they didn’t arrest you,” my father hissed. “It was an accident,” I replied innocently. “Chinese weddings traditionally include firecrackers. I was just honoring the cultural significance of marriage.” “This isn’t funny, Hazel,” Julian finally spoke, looking up with bloodshot eyes. “Ivy could have gotten seriously ill from that stunt.” “Oh? I thought she was already seriously ill,” I countered. Ivy reached for Julian’s hand. “It’s okay,” she said weakly. “She’s just upset. I understand.” “Don’t pretend to understand anything about me,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Let’s get one thing straight—I know exactly what you’re doing, Ivy. You’ve been trying to take everything from me since we were children.” “That’s not true!” she protested, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ve always looked up to you!” “Is that why you’re marrying my fiancé?” I asked coldly. “It just happened,” Julian interjected. “We didn’t plan it—” “Oh please,” I scoffed. “Nothing just happens with Ivy. Every move is calculated.” “She’s dying, Hazel!” My father’s voice cracked. “Can’t you find some compassion?” “Like the compassion you showed my mother?” I fired back. “Or the compassion Ivy showed when she cut up my prom dress? Or when she spread rumors that I slept with my design professor to get good grades?” Ivy had the audacity to look shocked. “That was years ago! I’ve changed!” “Have you?” I pulled out my phone, showing them the screen. “Then explain this Instagram post from last week, where you’re posing in my wedding venue—with my wedding planner!” Julian paled. “What?” “Oh, didn’t she tell you? Ivy’s been planning this for months. The cancer diagnosis just gave her the perfect excuse.” “Is this true?” Julian asked Ivy, whose face had taken on a calculating look. “Of course not,” she said quickly. “I was just… exploring options. I never thought—” “She didn’t just steal my fiancé,” I interrupted, addressing the room. “She’s taking my entire wedding. Same venue, same date, same dress design—even the same damn cake flavor!” A heavy silence fell over the room. Julian looked confused, my father uncomfortable, and Eleanor defiant. Ivy’s mask slipped for just a moment, revealing a glint of triumph in her eyes. “Well,” she finally said, her voice soft but unmistakably smug, “it seemed a shame to waste all your hard work. And since we’re family, I thought you wouldn’t mind sharing.” Julian squeezed her hand, nodding. “That’s right. We’re keeping it in the family, Hazel. Your efforts won’t go to waste.” I stared at him, incredulous at his blindness. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I fought to maintain my composure. “What’s it like?” I asked, my voice dripping with contempt. “Keeping the benefits within the family?” 4- A Slap, A Call, and the Unthinkable Proposition The room fell silent at my question. I could see the gears turning in Julian’s head as he processed my words, trying to determine if I was really suggesting what he thought I was. “Hazel,” Julian finally said, his voice strained. “You’re upset. I understand—” “Do you?” I interrupted, taking a step closer. “Do you understand that for six years, I gave you my blood? That I watched you suffer through your illness, held your hand through treatments, and postponed my own dreams to support yours?” Julian’s face paled. He couldn’t meet my eyes. My stepmother Eleanor stepped between us, her perfectly manicured finger pointing at my face. “That’s enough! You’ve caused enough trouble today. How dare you come in here with those… firecrackers and soak my daughter? She’s fighting for her life!” “And I was fighting for mine for six years,” I countered. “But none of you seemed to care about that.” The door opened, and my father stormed in, his face flushed with anger. He must have stepped out earlier and just returned, drawn by the commotion. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, taking in the tense scene. Eleanor immediately turned to him, her expression morphing into one of distress. “Harrison, Hazel is upsetting Ivy again. After everything she’s already done today!” My father’s eyes hardened as he looked at me. “I warned you to behave yourself.” “Or what?” I challenged, feeling reckless in my anger. “You’ll disown me? Cut me out of your will? Been there, done that.” His jaw clenched. “You ungrateful—” He raised his hand, and I braced myself for the slap that had been years coming. But the blow never landed. Julian had moved between us, catching my father’s wrist mid-air. “Harrison, don’t,” Julian said firmly. “This isn’t helping anyone.” My father yanked his arm free, pointing at me. “Get her out of here. Now.” Julian turned to me, his expression pleading. “Hazel, can we talk privately?” “There’s nothing to talk about,” I said coldly. He grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. “Please, just five minutes.” I looked down at his hand on my arm, then back up at his face. With deliberate slowness, I raised my own hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. The sound echoed through the hospital room. “Don’t ever touch me again,” I hissed, then walked out, head held high. I was shaking by the time I reached the parking lot, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I fumbled with my keys, dropping them twice before managing to unlock my car. Once inside, I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. My phone rang. Victoria’s face flashed on the screen. I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey.” “Where are you?” Victoria demanded. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” “At the hospital,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “Or just leaving it.” “Hospital? Are you okay?” “I’m fine. I just paid Ivy a little visit.” There was a beat of silence. “Tell me you didn’t murder her.” Despite everything, I laughed. “No, but I did set off firecrackers in her hospital room.” “You WHAT?” I filled Victoria in on everything as I drove to her family’s restaurant, The Imperial Garden. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, she was both horrified and impressed. “You’re insane,” she said when I finished. “Completely insane. I love it.” Victoria was waiting at our usual corner booth, two glasses of wine already poured. She stood when she saw me, pulling me into a fierce hug. “You look terrible,” she said bluntly, examining my face. “Thanks. That’s just what I needed to hear.” “You know what I mean.” She pushed a glass toward me. “Drink.” I obeyed, taking a long sip of the rich red wine. “Julian wants to talk,” I said, setting the glass down. “Of course he does.” Victoria rolled her eyes. “What’s there to talk about? He’s marrying your sister in your wedding.” “Stepsister,” I corrected automatically. “Whatever. Blood relations don’t seem to matter much to him anyway.” Her eyes narrowed. “What else aren’t you telling me?” I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide anything from her. “They’re getting married in three weeks. At my venue. In my dress design.” Victoria’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.” “I wish I was.” I took another sip of wine. “Ivy’s been planning this for months. The cancer just gave her the perfect excuse.” “That manipulative bitch.” Victoria’s hand tightened around her glass. “And Julian? He’s just going along with it?” “He’s convinced himself it’s the noble thing to do.” I laughed bitterly. “Giving a dying woman her last wish.” Victoria pulled out her phone. “What are you doing?” “Calling that spineless excuse for a man.” Before I could stop her, she had Julian on speaker. “Victoria?” Julian sounded wary. “You pathetic bastard,” she greeted him cheerfully. “I just heard what you did to Hazel.” “It’s complicated—” “No, it’s really not. You’re leaving a woman who gave you her blood for six years to marry her dying stepsister. That’s not complicated; that’s despicable.” “You don’t understand—” “What don’t I understand? That you’re weak? That you couldn’t stand up to a manipulative woman and her equally manipulative mother? That you threw away six years for what… guilt? Pity?” There was silence on the other end. “Nothing to say?” Victoria continued. “Good. Listen carefully. If I ever see you near Hazel again without her explicit permission, I will personally make sure every high-end restaurant in this city knows exactly what kind of man you are. You’ll be eating fast food for the rest of your miserable life.” She hung up before he could respond. I stared at her, equal parts mortified and grateful. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Yes, I did.” She refilled our glasses. “Now, what’s the plan?” “Plan?” “For revenge, obviously.” I sighed, suddenly feeling tired. “I don’t know if I want revenge anymore. I just want to move on.” “Bullshit,” Victoria said flatly. “I saw what you did with those firecrackers. You want revenge. You’re just afraid to admit it.” Before I could respond, my phone rang. Julian. I showed Victoria the screen. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered. After a moment’s hesitation, I answered, putting it on speaker. “What do you want?” “We need to talk about the company transfer,” Julian said, his voice all business. “And finalize our divorce.” My heart twisted at the word “divorce,” even though we’d only been engaged, not married. But after six years together, it felt like a marriage in all but name. “Fine,” I said coldly. “When?” “Tomorrow morning. My office. Nine o’clock.” “I’ll be there.” I hung up without waiting for his response. Victoria raised an eyebrow. “What company transfer?” “He’s giving me MG Designs as compensation,” I explained. “It’s a failing fashion house, but the brand still has some recognition. With work, I could turn it around.” “And you’re accepting this? Like some kind of payoff?” I shrugged. “It’s better than nothing. And it gives me a head start on my own business.” Victoria didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue further. The next morning, I dressed carefully in a tailored black suit that I’d designed myself. Professional, elegant, and utterly impenetrable. Julian wouldn’t see an ounce of vulnerability from me today. His office was exactly as I remembered it—sleek, modern, and soulless. Julian was waiting with his lawyer, documents spread across the conference table. “Hazel,” he greeted me, rising to his feet. “Thank you for coming.” I nodded curtly, taking a seat across from him. “Let’s make this quick.” For the next hour, we went through the paperwork for the transfer of MG Designs. Despite everything, Julian was fair with the terms, ensuring I had complete control of the company and its assets. “Now for the divorce,” I said when we finished, pushing the signed papers aside. Julian glanced at his lawyer, who cleared his throat. “Actually, since you’re not legally married, it’s simply a matter of terminating the engagement. However, given the circumstances, Mr. Grayson thought it prudent to formalize the separation.” “Let’s go to the Civil Affairs Bureau now,” I suggested, wanting this chapter of my life closed as quickly as possible. Julian nodded, dismissing his lawyer. “I’ll drive.” The ride to the bureau was silent and tense. I stared out the window, deliberately keeping my body turned away from him. At the bureau, we took numbers and waited. When our turn came, we approached the desk together. “We’d like to file for divorce,” Julian explained to the clerk. The woman looked up from her computer. “Do you have an appointment?” “No,” I replied. “We thought we could do it today.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you need to schedule an appointment first. And there’s a mandatory 30-day cooling-off period after filing.” “Thirty days?” I repeated, my stomach sinking. “Yes, that’s the law,” she confirmed. “The earliest appointment I have is next Wednesday. After that, you’ll need to wait thirty days before the divorce can be finalized.” I did the mental math quickly. That would mean we’d still be legally married when Julian and Ivy had their wedding. “Is there any way to expedite the process?” Julian asked. The clerk looked sympathetic but firm. “No, I’m afraid not.” We scheduled the appointment and left, the silence between us even heavier than before. “This is a problem,” I finally said as we reached his car. Julian hesitated, then looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Maybe it’s not,” he said carefully. “What do you mean?” He took a deep breath. “Maybe we don’t need to get divorced at all.” I stared at him, sure I had misheard. “Excuse me?” “Ivy’s prognosis isn’t good, Hazel. Six months, maybe less.” His voice was soft, almost tender. “After she’s gone… maybe you and I could try again.” My mouth fell open as the full implication of his words hit me. He was suggesting we remain married while he married my stepsister, waiting for her to die so we could reunite. The sheer audacity of it left me speechless. “Are you actually serious right now?” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. Julian reached for my hand, his eyes earnest. “I still love you, Hazel. What I’m doing for Ivy… it’s just to give her some happiness in her final days. But you’re the one I want to spend my life with.” 5- An Unthinkable Request and a Bitter Accusation “Are you actually serious right now?” I stared at Julian, unable to believe what I was hearing. The audacity of this man to suggest we stay married while he married my stepsister, then reunite after her death. His eyes were pleading, hand still reaching for mine. “Hazel, please understand—” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me.” “I’m just trying to make this right!” Julian’s voice cracked with desperation. “Make it right?” I let out a bitter laugh. “You want to marry my dying stepsister in my wedding, using my designs, while staying married to me, then come back when she’s dead? And you think that makes anything right?” His face flushed. “When you put it that way—” “There’s no other way to put it!” I was shouting now, not caring who heard. “You’re disgusting. Both of you.” “Ivy is dying!” Julian raised his voice to match mine. “Don’t you have any compassion?” That was the final straw. I slapped him across the face, harder than I had at the hospital. The sound echoed in the parking lot. “Don’t you dare lecture me about compassion,” I seethed. “I gave you my blood for six years. I postponed my dreams for you. I nursed you through your illness. Where was your compassion when you canceled our wedding? Where was your compassion when you let Ivy steal everything I worked for?” Julian rubbed his reddening cheek, eyes downcast. “I didn’t think—” “That’s right. You didn’t think. You never do.” I turned away from him. “This conversation is over. I’m filing for divorce next week, with or without you. And don’t ever contact me again except through lawyers.” I walked away, my heels clicking on the pavement. For once, Julian didn’t follow. Once in my car, I took a deep breath. I needed to call Grandma Helen and Aunt Rebecca to explain what happened. They had been so excited about the wedding. “Hello, sweetheart!” Grandma’s cheerful voice answered after two rings. “How are the final wedding preparations going?” My throat tightened. “Grandma… there’s not going to be a wedding.” Silence fell on the other end. “What happened?” Her voice was suddenly much sharper. I told her everything—Julian’s betrayal, Ivy’s manipulation, even the firecrackers. By the end, I could hear Aunt Rebecca in the background, swearing colorfully. “That absolute weasel!” Aunt Rebecca was now on speakerphone. “I’ll fly back right now. Let me at him.” Despite everything, I smiled. My mother’s family had always been fiercely protective. “No need,” I assured her. “I’ve handled it. The wedding’s off, and I’m moving forward.” “What about your design business?” Grandma asked practically. “Wasn’t it tied up with his company?” “He’s signing over MG Designs to me. It’s not doing well, but I can turn it around.” “Of course you can,” Grandma said firmly. “You’re Catherine’s daughter.” My eyes welled with tears at the mention of my mother. “I miss her.” “She would be so proud of you,” Aunt Rebecca said softly. “Standing up for yourself like this.” After promising to keep them updated, I hung up and drove straight to my new office. Ashworth Bespoke—formerly MG Designs—was now mine. The paperwork had been rushed through, probably Julian’s guilty conscience at work. The staff seemed uncertain as I walked through the doors. News traveled fast, and they surely knew about the canceled wedding. “Good morning, everyone,” I announced, standing in the center of the main workspace. “As you may have heard, I am now the sole owner of this company, which will now be called Ashworth Bespoke. I look forward to working with all of you.” A few hours later, my assistant knocked on my office door. “Ms. Ashworth? Mr. Grayson is here to collect his personal items.” I nodded stiffly. “Let him in. I’ll step out.” Julian entered as I gathered my things to leave. Our eyes met briefly, but I looked away first, refusing to engage. I walked past him without a word, chin high, back straight. He didn’t try to speak either.
GIVE Up
GIVE Up
