Chapter 3

Linnea's POV

Under the blaring sun, dragging my feet down the street, I desperately dialed Dorian.

"Dorian... please, I'm losing my mind..." The moment he answered, the grievance I had suppressed for 24 hours erupted. I threw away my dignity and sobbed into the phone. "Rosalind disowned me. My mom went crazy today. They called me shameless, but I haven't done anything!"

"Linnea, baby, listen to me. Deep breaths." Dorian’s low, soft voice was like a lifeline. "I don't care what anyone else says, I'm on your side. I'm canceling my meetings and flying back right now."

Hanging up, some warmth finally returned to my icy hands.

Half an hour later, I knocked on Coralie’s apartment door.

"This is completely absurd!" After hearing my tearful recounting, Coralie slammed her coffee mug on the table, her eyes wide. "Did Rosalind and Adrienne join the same cult and get brainwashed?! How could they treat you like this?"

"I have nothing left," I hugged a cold throw pillow, tears streaming down my face. "It's just you and Dorian now."

"Don't be silly, I'll always be on your side." Coralie sat next to me and pulled me into an embrace. She picked up the ointment from the coffee table. "Look at you, covered in cold sweat. Let's clean that wound and put on another layer. The harder things get, the prettier you have to be."

"I told Dorian to come back," I said softly.

Coralie’s hands paused. She pulled out her phone. "Tell you what, just stay at my place these next few days. I'll call Dorian and tell him to handle the party prep so he doesn't get distracted. You just stay here and rest."

I had zero defenses against her thoughtfulness and immediately nodded.

On the day of the engagement party, the absence of Rosalind and my mother sparked whispers. But the Thorne family's influence was massive, and half of New York's high society still surrounded me to offer a toast.

The hall doors opened. Dorian, impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo and holding a massive bouquet of fresh white roses, walked down the red carpet toward me. He was as handsome and aristocratic as ever.

"Linnea," he said deeply, standing in the center of the crowd.

Applause and whistles erupted. He dropped to one knee and pulled a six-carat pink diamond ring from his breast pocket.

I was trembling so hard I could barely breathe. Tears blurred my vision. The fear, humiliation, and helplessness of the past few days vanished instantly. I picked up my heavy skirt and ran to him recklessly, throwing myself tightly into his arms.

In the crowded room, fueled by sheer joy and pent-up tension, a layer of hot sweat broke out across my back and forehead.

I went to kiss him.

Our bodies collided. A muffled thud.

The moment my cheek was about to touch his lips, Dorian’s face twisted. As if he had touched a lethal pathogen, he violently shoved me away.

"Ah—!"

I stumbled backward, my heels slipping on the polished marble. Luckily, a girl nearby grabbed my arm, saving me from falling flat on my back in front of everyone.

A deathly silence fell over the hall.

"Dorian?" I stared at him, bewildered.

My loving fiancé from a second ago was now staring at me with sheer, violent disgust, the veins bulging on his forehead. He looked at me like I was a bloated, dead rat in a sewer.

I knew that look. It was the exact same look Rosalind and my mother had given me.

Panic swallowed me whole. The trauma of being repeatedly violently rejected by the people I loved made me shake uncontrollably. "Why... why are you doing this too? What did I do wrong?!"

"What did you do wrong?" Dorian sneered through gritted teeth, his voice echoing in the dead silence. "You are an insatiable whore!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Dorian, please stop!" Coralie suddenly rushed out of the crowd, throwing herself between us. She played the frantic peacemaker. "There has to be a misunderstanding! So many people are watching, calm down and talk this out..."

"Shut up, Coralie! Your heart is too kind, that's why she’s played you for a fool!" Dorian shoved her aside. He raised his hand and violently smashed the expensive bouquet of white roses directly into my face—treating them like literal trash.

The thorns slashed my cheek.

"The engagement is off." He pointed coldly at the door. "Get out. I never want to see you again, you bitch."

The word "bitch" felt like a sledgehammer, smashing my last shred of hope to dust.

I don’t remember how I walked out of that banquet hall.

The night wind cut to the bone. I drifted emptily down the street, my steps aimless.

A piercing honk nearly shattered my eardrums.

I instinctually turned my head. A yellow cab was speeding, out of control, right at me.

I had no time to dodge. I just squeezed my eyes shut. Bang. The bumper clipped my hip, the massive momentum throwing me hard onto the asphalt. My palms and knees scraped the ground, burning in agony.

The driver managed to brake just in time, leaving me with only scrapes. He jumped out, screaming curses at me, but I couldn't hear a word he said.

Because in that exact split second, a sickeningly intense, pungent odor drilled directly into my nasal cavity.

And suddenly, I understood exactly what had happened.