Chapter 4

Ariel Payne POV:

The next day, I went to the mall. My aunt Evelena was arriving tomorrow, and I wanted to buy her a gift, a small token of gratitude for being my sanctuary. I chose a silk scarf in a shade of sapphire that I knew would match her eyes.

As I was about to pay, a sudden commotion erupted near the entrance of the high-end department store. Staff members began hurriedly pulling velvet ropes across the aisles.

"I' m sorry, miss," a flustered sales associate told me, "but we need to clear the floor. A VIP is arriving for a private shopping experience."

Before I could protest, I saw them. Desmond and Aurora, flanked by a phalanx of burly bodyguards, swept into the store as if they owned it.

My heart leaped into my throat. I ducked behind a large display of handbags, my body going cold.

I watched them from my hiding place. This was a side of Desmond I had never seen. He was attentive, doting, his eyes fixed on Aurora with an intensity he hadn' t shown me in years.

"This one," he said, pointing to a limited-edition crocodile skin handbag. "The color will match the dress you' re wearing to the gala."

He guided her to the clothing racks, his fingers skimming over fabrics with an expert touch. "You have the perfect shoulders for this off-the-shoulder gown," he murmured, his voice a low thrum of admiration.

I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. For our anniversary last year, he had his secretary send me a gift card. He didn' t even know my dress size anymore.

He knelt before her at the shoe salon, personally sliding a pair of jewel-encrusted heels onto her feet. "Comfort is key," he said, his thumb gently pressing against the arch of her foot. "But that doesn' t mean we sacrifice style."

The sales staff fluttered around them, their faces alight with fawning admiration. "Mr. Day has such impeccable taste," one of them whispered loudly. "He knows exactly what suits Ms. Quinn. They' re a perfect match."

A perfect match. I was the imperfect one. The one who preferred comfortable sneakers to designer heels, the one whose idea of a perfect date was a shared pizza and a movie, not a private shopping spree.

Aurora emerged from the dressing room in a stunning emerald green dress that Desmond had picked. It clung to her perfect figure, making her look like a goddess.

Desmond' s breath hitched. He walked up to her, his hands resting on her waist, his eyes burning with an open, undisguised adoration that he had never, not once in ten years, directed at me.

"You are breathtaking," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her. "Just wait for the day of the IPO. The surprise I have for you will make all of this look like nothing."

The surprise. The public proposal. My proposal.

Something inside me snapped. A tidal wave of grief and rage washed over me, so powerful it made me physically recoil. I stumbled backward, my shoulder bumping into a metal shelving unit.

There was a loud, metallic clang as a stack of shoe boxes tumbled to the floor.

The store fell silent. Every head turned in my direction.

Desmond' s eyes, cold and annoyed, scanned the area. "I thought you said the floor was cleared," he snapped at a nearby bodyguard.

Before I could move, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. One of the bodyguards had found me. He was a mountain of a man, with a cruel, brutish face.

"What do you think you' re doing back here?" he snarled, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh.

He started to drag me towards a service exit. I tried to speak, to explain, but he clamped a massive hand over my mouth, muffling my cries.

"Let' s teach this little spy a lesson," he growled to another guard, who grinned maliciously.

They shoved me into a cramped, windowless stockroom. The first punch landed in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

"Please," I wheezed, tasting blood. "I know him. I know Desmond Day."

The first guard laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Sure you do, sweetheart. Every gold-digging rat in this city claims to know Mr. Day."

He kicked me, his steel-toed boot connecting with my ribs. A blinding, white-hot pain exploded in my side.

Through the haze of pain, I heard Desmond' s voice from the hallway, impatient and detached. "Is it handled? I don' t want Aurora to be disturbed."

"All handled, sir," the guard called back cheerfully.

Then he turned back to me, his face a mask of sadistic glee. "You heard the man. He doesn' t want to be disturbed."

Another kick. And another. The world began to swim, the edges of my vision turning dark and fuzzy.

As I slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing I saw was the image of Desmond and Aurora walking away, their arms linked, bathed in the bright, warm light of the store, leaving me behind in the cold, brutal darkness.

My mind, in its final moments of awareness, felt strangely, blessedly numb. I remembered his face, years ago, his eyes wide with terror as he raced across a busy street to pull me out of the path of a speeding car. He had held me so tight, his heart hammering against my own, whispering my name over and over like a prayer.

Ariel. Ariel. Ariel.

He used to care if I lived or died. The memory felt like it belonged to someone else' s life.

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