Chapter 3

Blaire POV:

Night fell like a shroud, heavy and suffocating. I lay in the hospital suite bed, staring at the ceiling, the glow of the city lights painting abstract patterns on the pristine white. Sleep was a luxury my tormented mind couldn't afford. Cade hadn't returned. Not that I expected him to, not after what I' d witnessed.

A soft knock interrupted the silence. The efficient, silver-haired superintendent of the Dyer estate, Mrs. Albright, entered. "Miss Madden," she said, her voice clipped and formal. "Mr. Dyer asked me to inform you that he will be out late, attending to an urgent family matter."

"An urgent family matter," I repeated, a bitter taste in my mouth. A family matter named Alessandra Guerra. I nodded, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. She left, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and the agonizing ache in my chest.

My phone, clutched in my hand, vibrated. A message from an unknown number. My breath hitched. It was a photo. Cade, laughing, his arm wrapped tightly around Alessandra, her head nestled against his shoulder. They were at some upscale restaurant, candlelight glinting off their wine glasses. Below the picture, a caption: "Enjoying a lovely evening with my fiancé. Some people just don't know when to give up." It was Alessandra, gloating, rubbing salt in wounds she had carved herself.

I checked the location tag. It was miles away from the hospital, nowhere near any "urgent family matter." The lie, so casual, so effortless, twisted the knife in my gut. He hadn't even bothered to compose a convincing alibi. I was nothing.

A strange calm settled over me, cold and absolute. My fingers, steady now, typed an address into the maps app. It was the address of the restaurant. I rose from the bed, ignoring the protests of my still-healing body. The pain was irrelevant. Only clarity remained.

I hailed a taxi, the cool night air doing little to soothe the fire in my veins. The restaurant was a beacon of soft lights and hushed laughter. I paid the driver and walked towards the entrance, my heart beating a slow, deliberate rhythm. The valet, recognizing me from my previous visits with Cade, nodded politely.

"Good evening, Miss Madden. Mr. Dyer is inside, with Miss Guerra." His tone was deferential, unaware of the storm brewing within me.

I walked past him, my gaze fixed on the private dining room I knew Cade favored. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light and the murmur of voices escaping. Cade's voice. My blood ran cold. "Blaire Madden? She' s a pathetic, clinging artist," he scoffed, his voice loud enough to carry through the gap. "Always so emotional. Honestly, I don't know what I ever saw in her."

A ripple of laughter followed his words. "Oh, Cade, you're too kind," a woman's voice purred. "We all know you've always had an eye for quality. And Blaire... bless her heart, she was just too naive." It was one of Alessandra's sycophants.

Alessandra's own voice cut in, sharp and triumphant. "She really thought she could compete, didn't she? After everything you've done for her, Cade, she still believed she was indispensable."

My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles white. My heart pounded, but it was a drum of fury, not pain. This was it. The final, undeniable truth.

"Indispensable?" Cade sneered, a cruel chuckle following. "She was useful, nothing more. A convenient distraction, a placeholder until I could secure what was rightfully mine. But now, with Alessandra' s family backing me, my position is undeniable. Blaire is old news."

He went on, his voice thick with a self-serving arrogance. "Alessandra is the future. She brings status, power, real connections. Blaire brought... watercolors and student debt." More laughter. The sound scraped against my soul.

I thought of the long nights I spent nursing him back from his heart episodes, the extra shifts I picked up to cover his extravagant medical bills, the way I painted commission after commission, sacrificing my own artistic vision to keep a roof over our heads. All for a man who saw me as nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.

Alessandra's voice broke through my thoughts, closer now. I peered through the crack, and saw her rise, glass in hand, moving towards Cade. She leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear. "And you know, darling," she whispered, her voice laced with venomous triumph, "we've been together for much longer than she ever suspected. Every single time she came crying to you about me, I was already with you."

My breath hitched. The world tilted. Not 99 acts of cruelty. Ninety-nine acts of orchestrated torture, with Cade as her silent, willing accomplice. The pain was physical, a sharp, searing agony that threatened to split me in two.

Alessandra pulled back, her eyes meeting Cade' s. "She really believed you loved her, didn't she? Even when I told her, you were always so good at making her doubt herself." Her gaze shifted, her eyes locking onto mine through the narrow gap in the door. A slow, chilling smile spread across her face. "Consider this your final warning, Blaire. Stay away from Cade, or you'll regret it far more than you can imagine."

Cade, his eyes glazed with alcohol and triumph, didn't notice Alessandra's sinister glance. He stumbled slightly, pushing past her with a drunken laugh. "Get out, Blaire! Get out of my life!" he slurred, waving a dismissive hand, as if I were a bothersome fly.

My eyes, fixed on his, burned with a cold, clear fury. The rage, pure and exhilarating, washed away every last vestige of pain. He was a monster. A true monster. And I had loved him. But no more. My hand shot out, grabbing a half-empty wine bottle from a nearby table. With a scream that tore from my gut, I swung it, not at him, but at the expensive crystal chandelier hanging above his head. The glass shattered, raining down fragments, each shard a reflection of my shattered heart.

"You want me out, Cade?" I yelled, my voice hoarse, echoing through the stunned silence of the room. "Fine! But prepare yourself, because the next time you see me, you'll wish you never had!"

I turned, my eyes meeting Alessandra's. Her smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine fear. I gave her a slow, predatory smile. "This isn't over, Alessandra. Not by a long shot."

With that, I walked out, leaving behind the wreckage of my love, and stepping into the cold, unforgiving night. The deceit, the betrayal, the lies-they were all laid bare. And in their place, a new, terrifying resolve had been born.