Chapter 4

The fire started in the study next to my bedroom.

If I hadn't been awake with insomnia, I would've burned to ashes along with my manuscripts.

Wrapped in a blanket, I stood at the base of the building, watching the home Brayden designed turn to cinders.

Soot mixed with tears smeared across my face.

I recalled the police officer's words. "The doors and windows were intact. The arsonist had a clear target."

Indeed.

No detours, straight to the third-floor study.

Determined to cut off every escape and hope I had.

Brayden didn't show up until the flames were extinguished.

When he draped his floral-scented jacket over my shoulders, I pulled away.

His hand froze in midair.

"What are you doing here? Crocodile tears?" I scoffed. "Or did you come to check if I burned to death?"

"I rushed over when I got the news. Is that wrong now?" Brayden's eyes turned cold. "I try to help, and this is what I get? You deserve this!"

"Help?" My shoulders shook as a bitter laugh escaped my nose. "You stole my original songs and gave them to Joyce, then let her humiliate me with money. That's your help?"

"I don't know anything about money!" He turned his face away. "You ruined Joyce's voice first, making it impossible for her to perform in the next live show. I had no choice. If it's about money, I can pay you. Consider it buying the copyrights..."

Utterly absurd.

"Should I thank you for that? You've done all this just to see me cornered, begging at your feet, haven't you?" I pointed at the charred building, the man in my eyes growing more unfamiliar.

"Stop acting crazy..." Brayden answered a call and hung up quickly, a coy female voice leaking from the receiver. "If you think I'm in the way, go cool off on your own."

I stared at the empty space on his ring finger, my heart numb and swollen.

If he couldn't have it, he'd destroy it. That was always his way.

He thought burning my manuscripts would secure the exclusive rights to those songs forever.

But he only burned copies.

The originals were safe in a bank vault.

I'd take them to a lawyer when my heart was truly dead.

Brayden once said if we fought, he'd walk no more than ten steps away.

If I called him within those steps, he'd turn back and hold me.

But I couldn't call out.

He floored the gas and vanished from my sight.

That fire didn't just burn my manuscripts. It burned away the Brayden who once loved me.

The phone rang sharply.

The hospital called to say my grandpa was awake.

I rushed to his bedside, and his first words hit me. "End the engagement, Eve. I just want you to marry someone who makes you happy. If Brayden's no good, we don't need him."

I froze for a long moment.

My fingers brushed my grandpa's white hair, tears falling in a rush. "Okay."

I finally called the lawyer.

That night, in Joyce's live stream, Brayden appeared as the special guest, as usual.

As their duet hit its peak, a man in a police uniform burst into the frame. "Mr. Reynolds, you're under arrest for suspected arson and intellectual property theft. Come with us!"