Chapter 4

Clarice's POV

Milo’s face drained of color. He staggered back two steps.

"I..." He suddenly lunged at the bed like a madman, grabbing me tightly. "Clarice, I’ve regretted it every single day for four years! I still love you! Let’s start over, please!"

He babbled his confessions, forcing his mouth toward mine for a kiss.

"Get off me! Don't touch me!" I thrashed against him, but my post-surgery body was incredibly weak. I couldn't push a grown man away.

The hospital room door was kicked open from the outside. Darius charged in. Seeing the scene, his eyes turned feral. Like a rabid animal, he hauled Milo off me and slammed a fist into his face. A second punch caught Milo in the ribs, sending him crashing into the corner, knocking IV stands across the floor.

Paloma ran in right behind him and grabbed Darius’s arm.

"Darius, stop hitting him, you'll kill him!" She looked deeply wronged. "It’s normal for Clarice to feel nostalgic and want to see Milo. They had a baby together once, you can't just cut those ties." She choked out a sob. "But Clarice, you just had a miscarriage. How could you throw yourself back into your ex’s arms so shamelessly?"

Darius stopped. He turned to me, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me out of bed.

"Clarice, do you have no shame at all?" He was panting. "No wonder your sex tape got leaked for everyone to see."

I went rigid. I slowly looked up at Paloma.

"You told him," I said.

"I didn't mean to." Her tears fell instantly. "Jonah got drunk and let it slip, I couldn't stop him. I swear I didn't want to use that against you."

"That's exactly how you cried that year too," I stared at her. "You cry, and I lose everything. My thesis, my boyfriend, my dad."

Her tears paused.

Milo leaned against the wall, pulling himself up. "Darius, listen to her..."

"Shut your mouth," Darius didn't even look back.

"Whose name is engraved inside that ring? Do you dare say it out loud in front of her?" I asked.

The room went dead silent for two seconds. Darius turned to look at me, his gaze shifting. He wasn't checking if I knew. He was trying to figure out when I found out.

"You already saw it," he stated.

I didn't answer. Beatrix, the nurse, stood frozen in the doorway holding a tray.

Darius violently dragged me out of the room, oblivious to the fact that I was still bleeding. He hauled me like a dead dog down the hall and shoved me into an abandoned, empty ward.

He grabbed my jaw, forced my mouth open, and poured a vial of liquid down my throat. I coughed violently, the bitter taste burning my nose.

"This is what the Family uses to interrogate traitors," his voice was cold and inhuman. "Clarice, I want to make you feel the exact pain I feel."

After that, the door locked from the outside.

I curled up on the cold tiles. My vision began to warp.

I was back in the Sedgwick lab, watching Milo and Paloma’s naked, writhing bodies. The scene ripped apart, and I was dragging my suitcase into Calder City, backed into an alley by thugs.

Finally, Darius held up that diamond ring—the one engraved with someone else's name—and smiled as he slid it onto my finger.

No. I will never stay with him!

Suffocation. Utter despair.

My fingertips brushed against cold metal. Medical suture scissors, resting on the bottom shelf of a forgotten nursing cart. I grabbed them tightly and plunged them straight into my chest.

The moment the blood sprayed, all the phantom faces vanished. The world finally went quiet.

I grew colder and colder, everything blurring away.

The scissors hit the tiled floor, and I lost consciousness completely.