Chapter 2

The water in the tub grew cold, but I didn't move.

His words echoed in my ears. "I am not interested in you. I will never be interested in you."

It was like a blunt knife, sawing slowly. I could almost taste blood in my mouth, though I knew I hadn't bitten my lip that hard.

He thought I was a manipulator, a game player. He thought I was like all the other "New York socialites" he clearly despised.

He didn't see me at all. He saw a caricature, a stereotype.

And he saw Lily as... pure. Untouchable.

I finally climbed out, my limbs stiff and heavy. The humiliation burned hotter than the earlier anger.

The next morning, Ethan was even harsher than usual.

"The south fence needs repairing, all five miles of it," he said at breakfast, not even looking at me. "And the water troughs in the west pasture are running low. You'll take the old truck and fill them. By yourself."

It was backbreaking work, designed to punish.

I clenched my jaw and did it. I hauled the heavy wire, dug post holes until my hands were raw, and wrestled with the ancient water pump under the scorching sun.

My body screamed in protest, but I pushed through, fueled by a stubborn defiance.

He wanted to break me? Fine. Let him try.

Later that day, as I was struggling to load a heavy water tank onto the truck bed, two of the younger ranch hands, Jake and Billy, walked by.

"Heard the boss really laid into you last night, Miss Vance," Jake said, not unkindly.

Billy chimed in, "Everyone knows he's got a blind spot for Lily. Always has. Says she saved his life once, or something like that. You're fighting a losing battle, ma'am."

Their pity was almost worse than Ethan's anger. It confirmed what I already knew: in his eyes, I would always be the villain, and Lily the innocent maiden.

The public perception of my unrequited love, his favoritism – it was a heavy weight.

I finally got the tank loaded and was driving the rickety truck along a bumpy track when the world started to tilt.

My head throbbed, black spots danced in front of my eyes.

I stumbled out of the truck, needing air, and my legs just gave out.

I hit the dusty ground hard. I could taste dirt and something metallic – blood, from my lip I'd bitten again.

My vision blurred. The last thing I saw was Hank, the old cowboy, riding towards me, his face a mask of alarm.

"Elara! Boss! Get over here!" Hank's shout was distant.

When I came to, I was being carried. Strong arms held me.

For a wild, hopeful second, I thought...

Then I heard his voice, cold and detached. "She just fainted from the heat. Overdid it. I'll take her to the house." It was Ethan.

He was carrying me, but his tone was dismissive.

He wasn't concerned; he was annoyed. I was an inconvenience.

Hank was arguing. "But Boss, she looks real bad. Maybe the doctor..."

"She'll be fine with some rest," Ethan cut him off. "It's just a bit of sun. She's not used to hard work."

His words, meant to sound practical, were laced with that familiar disdain.

He laid me on the sofa in the main house's living room.

I kept my eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness. I couldn't face him.

He thought I was weak, faking, manipulating.

A bitter, ironic laugh almost escaped me. He was carrying me, yes, but not out of affection.

It was duty. Obligation. She's Richard Vance's daughter. Can't let her die on my ranch.

The realization settled in, cold and heavy. There was no hidden care. Only responsibility.

After a few minutes, I heard him move towards the door.

I opened my eyes just a crack.

"I'm leaving in a few days," I said, my voice barely a whisper, raspy from the dust and dehydration.

He stopped, his back to me. He didn't turn. "Leaving?"

"Yes," I said, a strange calm settling over me. "My father... he arranged something. I'm going."

He stood there for a long moment, then walked out without another word, leaving me alone with the painful clarity of his indifference.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in my own bed. Someone had moved me.

Sunlight streamed through the window. It was late afternoon.

My head still ached, but the dizziness was gone.

There was a knock on the door.

Before I could answer, it opened, and Lily Hayes walked in, a sweet smile on her face.

"Oh, Elara, you're awake! I was so worried when Ethan told me you'd collapsed."

Her voice was like honey, but her eyes held a glint I didn't trust. The conflict was far from over. It was just entering a new, more direct phase.