Chapter 4

I woke up to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the faint beeping of a machine. My head throbbed, and my arm ached where the needle had been. I was weak, drained.

Alaric and Darrius were sitting in chairs by my bed, their faces etched with what was supposed to be concern.

"Azalea, you're awake," Alaric said, relief flooding his voice. "You really scared us."

"We heard what happened," Darrius added, his tone somber. "Alexander went too far. Pressuring you to give blood... it's barbaric."

I looked at them, at their earnest, lying faces. In my past life, after they left me for dead in the ocean, they had been the ones to suggest to Alexander that they "find" my body and give me a proper burial, cementing their image as my loyal friends. It was all a performance.

"Where is he?" I asked, my voice a dry rasp.

"He's with Isolde," Alaric said, a flicker of something-pity? disgust?-in his eyes. "He hasn't left her side."

Of course he hadn't.

I didn't want their sympathy. I didn't want them here. "Leave," I said.

They looked surprised. "But Azalea, we want to stay with you-"

"I said, leave," I repeated, my voice gaining a bit of strength.

They exchanged another one of their confused glances before reluctantly getting up. "Alright. Call us if you need anything."

As the door closed behind them, I heard their real conversation start up in the hallway.

"She's taking this really hard," Darrius said.

"What do you expect? Alexander is treating her like dirt," Alaric replied. "But she needs to get over it. The wedding is still the goal. Our families are counting on it."

"She'll come around," Darrius said confidently. "She always does when it comes to Alexander."

I closed my eyes, the familiar sting of betrayal twisting in my gut. They weren't my friends. They were just investors in my arranged marriage.

I was alone in the white room, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor the only company. The nurses who came in were polite but distant. They looked at me with a mixture of pity and judgment, clearly having heard Alexander's side of the story.

My phone, lying on the bedside table, buzzed incessantly with empty well-wishes from the other bachelors and their families. I ignored them all.

The hospital assigned a caregiver to me, a clumsy young woman who seemed more interested in her phone than in her patient. She spilled water on my bed, brought me the wrong food, and knocked over a vase of flowers, shattering it on the floor.

During one of her fumbling attempts to help me sit up, she lost her grip, and I fell back hard against the bed frame, a sharp pain shooting through my already aching body.

That was the last straw. I couldn't stay here, a prisoner in this sterile room, surrounded by fake sympathy and incompetence.

I called my personal assistant and told her to arrange for my discharge. I was going home.

As I was signing the papers, dressed in the fresh clothes my assistant had brought, Alaric and Jefferey appeared, looking flustered.

"Azalea, you can't leave! You're not well enough!" Jefferey exclaimed.

"I'm better off at home," I said coldly, pushing past them.

And then I saw them.

Down the hall, Alexander was walking with his arm around Isolde. She was dressed in a beautiful new outfit, looking perfectly healthy and radiant. He was laughing, leaning down to whisper in her ear, his expression full of adoration. The same adoration he used to fake for me.

The people in the hallway watched them, their voices a low murmur.

"They look so in love," someone whispered.

"She's so lucky," said another. "He's completely devoted to her."

"What about that Azalea Kidd? I heard she's a nightmare. Attacked them at a charity event."

The words were like a thousand tiny needles, piercing my skin. I felt my knees go weak. All the blood I had lost, all the strength that had been drained from me, had gone to make her glow.

Darrius, who had just joined the others, rushed to my side. "Don't listen to them, Azalea. They don't know anything." He put a hand on my shoulder, trying to steer me away.

I looked at him, at all of them, my supposed protectors. Their faces were full of pity, but their eyes were cold. They were watching me, gauging my reaction, ready to report back to their master.

I was done being their pawn. I was done being the victim in their story.

With a strength I didn't know I possessed, I shook off Darrius's hand.

"Don't touch me," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

I turned and faced them all-Alaric, Darrius, and Jefferey.

"I've made my decision," I announced, my voice ringing with a finality that made them all freeze. "I'm not choosing any of you."

I left them standing there in the hospital corridor, their mouths hanging open in shock, and walked out into the cool city air.