Chapter 2

Blaire POV:

The sterile white of the hospital room was a stark contrast to the luxurious, yet suffocating, décor of the recovery suite I found myself in. A gilded cage, perhaps. My head throbbed, a dull ache that mirrored the hollowness in my chest. I stirred, the silk sheets rustling with my movement.

Cade, who had been sitting by the window, turned instantly. His face was a picture of practiced concern, a worried frown etched between his perfectly groomed brows. "Blaire, you're awake," he said, his voice a soft murmur, the kind that used to melt me. He moved towards the bed, his hand reaching for mine. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

I recoiled slightly, pulling my hand away before he could touch me. The phantom warmth of his hand, a warmth I once craved, now felt like a brand. His eyes flickered, a momentary flash of something unreadable before the mask of worry settled back into place. "I'm fine," I said, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion that used to surge whenever he was near.

He sat on the edge of the bed, a comfortable, familiar posture that now felt invasive. "Look, Alessandra is really upset about what happened. She feels terrible," he began, the same old refrain. "She didn't mean for you to get hurt, you know how impulsive she can be."

"Impulsive?" I cut him off, a sharp edge to my tone. "She tried to kill me, Cade. That's not impulse, that's attempted murder." The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know it looks bad, but you have to understand my position, Blaire. My family... the Dyers... they've finally accepted me. This engagement to Alessandra, it's crucial. It solidifies my place." He reached for my hand again, his fingers brushing against mine. "It's all for us, Blaire. Once I secure my position, we can be together openly, without any of this drama."

He talked about 'us,' about 'our future,' but the words were hollow, devoid of any real meaning. I remembered him telling me the same thing after Alessandra had anonymously reported my art scholarship application for plagiarism, nearly ruining my academic career. "It's just a temporary setback, darling," he'd said, cradling my face in his hands. "Once I' m stable, we' ll build an empire together." I saw through the performance now, the carefully crafted pretense of a shared dream.

"There is no 'us,' Cade," I stated, my voice steady despite the tremor in my soul. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw a stranger. The man I loved was a ghost, replaced by this ambitious, manipulative shell.

His eyes widened, confusion clouding them. "What are you talking about? Of course there's an us! We've been together for three years, Blaire. Don't you remember all our plans?" He sounded genuinely bewildered, as if my sudden clarity was an anomaly, not a consequence of his actions. He even tried a small, pleading smile, one that used to twist my heart with affection. "Please, Blaire. Don't throw all of this away."

I leaned back against the pillows, a dry, humorless laugh escaping my lips. "Plans, Cade? You mean your plans for me to be your convenient, unpaid nursemaid and punching bag while you clawed your way up the social ladder?" My voice rose, a bitter tide. "You sacrificed me, Cade. Ninety-nine times, you let her hurt me, and the hundredth time, you were ready to let her kill me for your precious inheritance."

Just then, the door burst open. A nurse, her face pale, rushed in. "Mr. Dyer, Miss Guerra is injured! The doctors are asking for you immediately!"

Cade' s head snapped towards the door, his carefully constructed facade cracking. His eyes, just moments ago pleading with me, now filled with genuine alarm for Alessandra. He stood up abruptly, without a glance back at me. "I'm coming!" he yelled, his voice tight with urgency. He ran out, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving me alone in the silent, sterile room.

My heart didn't break. It had already shattered into a million pieces the night before. This was just another shard, falling away into the abyss. I closed my eyes, a single, hot tear tracing a path down my temple. I was disposable. He' d made his choice.

Fighting the pain, I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed. The world tilted, but I pushed through it, my body still weak, but my resolve iron-hard. I had to see it. I had to witness his true allegiance with my own eyes, to burn it into my memory so there would be no going back.

I hobbled down the pristine corridor, guided by the murmur of voices. I found them in a private room, just a few doors down. Alessandra, draped in a flimsy hospital gown, was dramatically clutching her bandaged arm, her eyes wide and tearful as she looked at Cade. "Oh, Cade!" she whimpered, her voice theatrical. "It was so scary! She just attacked me out of nowhere!"

Cade sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders, stroking her hair. "Shhh, it's okay, darling," he soothed, his voice dripping with affection. "You're safe now. I won't let her touch you again." His gaze fell on my reflection in the window, a flash of irritation crossing his face. My presence was an inconvenience.

He stood up, walking towards me, his expression stern. "Blaire, what are you doing here? You should be resting." He took my arm, his grip surprisingly firm. "Let's go back to your room. You're exhausted." He tried to lead me away, to pretend everything was normal, that I was still his docile, loving girlfriend.

I pulled my arm free, my eyes fixed on Alessandra, who now watched with a smug, victorious smirk. "Rest? After you just announced your engagement to her, and called me a 'disposable stepping stone'?" My voice was low, but every word was a poisoned dart. "You want me to rest while your fiancé, the woman who has terrorized me for years, is being comforted by you, the man who let it happen?"

Cade' s face flushed. He glanced back, a panicked look at Alessandra and the open door. "Blaire, don't be ridiculous. You're emotional. Alessandra is my fiancée, yes, but you know that's for show, for the Dyers." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're my real love, Blaire. Always have been. Just be patient. We'll get through this."

My spine stiffened. Patience? Love? The words were a grotesque parody of our past. "You are not my real love, Cade. You never were. You were a parasite, feeding on my kindness, my talent, my unwavering devotion." I pointed a trembling finger at Alessandra. "And she was your accomplice. You two deserve each other."

The air crackled with tension. Cade' s jaw clenched. "Blaire, you're making a scene. And you're accusing Alessandra unjustly." He turned to her, his voice softening once more. "Darling, please ignore her. She's clearly delirious from her injuries."

Alessandra, ever the actress, dabbed at her eyes. "It's alright, Cade. I understand she's upset. But I do wish she wouldn't make such wild accusations. I've always tried to be her friend."

Cade turned back to me, his eyes blazing with a cold fury. "Apologize, Blaire. Apologize to Alessandra now." His voice was low, but it held an undeniable threat. "Or you won't like the consequences."

I stared at him, at the stranger he had become. This wasn't the man I'd loved. This wasn't even a man I recognized. It was a predator, cunning and ruthless, cloaked in a false charm. My vision blurred, not with tears, but with a sudden, overwhelming sense of finality. A wall of ice formed around my heart, sealing it off from the pain, from the betrayal.

"There's nothing left to say, Cade," I whispered, my voice chillingly calm. "I hope you and your new fiancée have a wonderful life together."

Then, I turned and walked away, each step an agony, but each step also a liberation. I walked out of that room, out of that hospital, and out of Cade Dyer's life, never looking back.