Chapter 3

The emergency room was a cacophony of beeps, hushed voices, and the smell of antiseptic.

A nurse cleaned and dressed my burn, her touch gentle but professional. Another tended to the cut on my calf, extracting the porcelain shard.

"You were lucky," the doctor said, examining the stitches. "No major damage."

Lucky. I almost laughed.

As I waited for my discharge papers, I heard familiar voices from the cubicle next to mine, separated only by a thin curtain.

Ethan. Liam. Noah.

"...can't believe Elara would do that," Liam was saying, his voice low and angry. "Chloe is terrified of her now."

"It's the pressure," Noah said, his tone weary. "The wedding. She's not herself."

"That's no excuse," Ethan countered. "But we have to think about the pact. Whichever one of us she chooses... or chose, before this Blake Sterling nonsense... has to go through with it."

My blood ran cold. Pact?

"For Chloe's sake," Liam agreed. "Our families would never approve of a match with Michael Davis's daughter. The backlash would be... severe. For Chloe."

"So, Elara is the shield," Noah murmured. "A loveless marriage to protect Chloe from the fallout. It's what we agreed. What we've always known."

My breath hitched.

So that was it. Their twisted justification.

My previous marriages, the years of neglect and quiet misery – they hadn' t been about me at all.

They had been strategic sacrifices to protect Chloe.

I was a pawn, a shield, a necessary inconvenience in their grand, tragic love story for the estate manager' s daughter.

A wave of something dark and bitter washed through me. It wasn't just pain anymore. It was a cold, hard fury.

And then, a strange, hysterical bubble of laughter rose in my throat.

The sheer, unadulterated absurdity of it. My entire past life, a carefully constructed lie to benefit Chloe Davis.

The curtain to my cubicle swished open.

Ethan, Liam, and Noah stood there, their faces grim.

"Elara," Ethan began, his eyes flicking to my bandaged arm and leg. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting my injuries treated," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "The ones Chloe so expertly orchestrated, and you so readily ignored."

They looked uncomfortable.

"Chloe said you pushed her," Liam mumbled, not meeting my eye.

"Chloe also spilled scalding tea on me and then faked a fall, hitting her own head," I replied evenly. "But you only saw what she wanted you to see."

A flicker of doubt in Noah's eyes. Ethan remained stony. Liam shuffled his feet.

"Look, Elara," Ethan said, his tone softening slightly, though still laced with accusation. "Chloe is fragile. We know you're under stress with this Sterling wedding..."

"We're sorry if you got... accidentally hurt in the commotion," Liam offered, a pathetic attempt at an apology.

They still didn't believe me. Or rather, they didn't want to.

"The point is," Ethan continued, "this changes nothing about the alliances. One of us will still be your husband. You need to make a choice, Elara. For everyone's sake."

They were still trying to steer me back to their pre-ordained path. Still assuming I was theirs to direct.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from down the hall. Raised voices, a nurse calling for a doctor, urgently.

"It's Miss Davis!" someone shouted. "She's having a severe allergic reaction!"

The three men stiffened.

"Chloe!" Ethan breathed, already moving.

They forgot me instantly. Again.

They rushed towards the sound, their earlier pronouncements, their half-hearted apologies, all vanishing in their renewed panic for Chloe.

I watched them go, a strange sense of detachment settling over me.

The universe, it seemed, was determined to replay the same tired drama.

But this time, I was just an observer.

A doctor hurried past, muttering about anaphylaxis, a possible drug interaction from the pain medication she' d been given for her "head injury."

Chloe's "sudden medical crisis." Predictable.

The pact. The shield.

It was all so clear now. So hideously, laughably clear.

I signed my discharge papers, my hand steady.

The grim humor hadn't faded. It was a shield of my own.