Chapter 3

I took a taxi home, fumbling in the dark for the light switch.

Just as I'd settled on the couch with a bowl of instant noodles, the front door creaked open.

I froze, surprised, and looked towards the entrance.

Genevieve had finally returned after seven years abroad, and I'd assumed Alex wouldn't bother coming home tonight.

But quickly, the surprise faded from my face.

Alex strode in, his expression dark and thunderous.

Clutching his hand, her fingers intertwined with his, was Genevieve, her face streaked with tears, looking utterly heartbroken.

I eyed his clearly accusatory stance and wracked my brain.

I was certain I hadn't done anything to upset his beloved childhood sweetheart.

The moment Genevieve saw me, she burst into fresh tears, looking even more wronged.

"Scarlett, I know you don't like me, but my sister is innocent."

I had no idea what she was talking about.

I stirred my noodles, about to pick up my forks.

Alex, still holding Genevieve's hand, took a few steps forward, snatched the bowl from me, and tossed it straight into the nearby trash can.

His face was contorted with fury. "Genevieve is talking to you! Are you deaf?"

I shot up, furious, forcing down a searing pain in my head.

"You two are insane! Get help!"

Alex let out a few cold, mocking laughs. "Couldn't trick me into coming, so you went after Genevieve's sister? You can even invent a terminal illness. Scarlett Hayes, don't you ever get tired?"

My head throbbed fiercely, making my reactions sluggish.

But I still understood. The young woman I'd casually hired for a part-time job that afternoon was Genevieve's sister.

An unbelievably cruel coincidence.

I wasn't sure if it was extreme anger or sheer hunger, but a sudden spell hit me.

My vision blurred, and cold sweat beaded on my back.

My body felt unwell, and my emotions surged with sudden irritation.

So I decided to just give up, letting out a sneer. "No, not tired at all."

"As long as I can make you and Genevieve miserable, nothing's too much effort."

A vein pulsed visibly on Alex's forehead. He flung the terminal illness diagnosis sheet, brought back from the hospital, right in front of my face.

His voice was a low, guttural snarl. "A despicable woman like you truly deserves a terminal illness! You should just die already!"

The edge of the paper grazed my cheek, leaving a sharp sting.

Alex tightened his grip on Genevieve's hand and turned to leave.

I watched the diagnostic sheet flutter past my eyes, then slowly drift to the floor.

A violent dizziness hit me without warning.

My body swayed, and I crashed to the ground.

My instincts made me reach out for something, anything, but I only managed to knock a delicate porcelain set off the coffee table.

The ceramics shattered, leaving a mess across the floor.

Alex paused at the doorway, turning back.

Perhaps the sight of me collapsing from being hit by an A4 paper was just too comically fake.

His eyes full of revulsion, he spat out "Disgusting," then slammed the door shut, taking his first love with him.

I watched his retreating figure vanish outside the door, without a single flicker of hesitation or regret.

I slipped into unconsciousness, my awareness completely fading.