VANESSA BELMONT
"Really?" I smirked. "I'd love to see your new necklace."
Hah. That was my precious bauble. The ruby-and-diamond necklace, along with other family jewelry pieces, was stored in the family vault at the old house.
"I'll show you when Nathan gifts it to me," she bragged. "Probably tonight when we dine at Georgio's."
Okay, that one hurt. Georgio's was my favorite restaurant, and Nate knew it. So did Fiona. I didn't have the emotional armor to hide my reaction, so Fiona knew she'd scored a direct hit. She stood next to the bed and reached out to pat my leg. "You look so pathetic. Did you really have pretend sick to get his attention?"
A sharp pang of betrayal twisted in my chest. Okay, that one hurt. Georgio's wasn't just some random restaurant. It was our place. Mine and Nathan's. Nate knew how much it meant to me.
So did Fiona.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, and I didn't have the strength—or the emotional armor—to hide my reaction. My breath hitched, my fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. Fiona's smirk deepened, her sharp eyes locking onto mine with predatory satisfaction. She knew she'd scored a direct hit.
She stepped closer and put her hand on my leg in a mockery of comfort, her fingers pressing a little too hard. "God, you look so pathetic," she cooed, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Did you really have to pretend to be sick just to get his attention?"
I almost choked on my laughter. "Isn't that your schtick?"
"What is the point of you?" asked Fiona. "Some business-arranged marriage? Nathan could have real happiness with me."
"Yeah? Why don't you tell him that?"
"I won't let you marry Nathan."
Fiona leaned over the bed, her perfume—something expensive and cloying—filled the space between us. Her eyes locked onto mine. Cold, calculated, and utterly unshakable.
Then, without breaking her stare, she lifted her hand—and struck herself across the face.
Crack.
The sound was sharp, unnatural. My breath froze in my lungs. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the reddening mark on her cheek, the way her lower lip trembled as if she were fighting back tears. But her eyes? Still ice. Still smug.
The horror of what she'd just done—the sheer, twisted audacity of it—had stunned me.
The door opened.
Nathan stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm in an instant. Fiona was already moving, stumbling back from the bed with a gasp, her hand pressed to her cheek like she'd been burned. Her shoulders curled inward, her voice a wounded whisper: "N-Nate…?"
Nathan immediately went to her. "What happened?"
Fiona turned her face against his chest and cried. "She hit me. I was trying to help her, and she hit me."
Nate's gaze went to mine, and I refused to look away. For once, I didn't see any condemnation. In fact, I think he had doubts about what Fiona said. "Did you slap her?" he asked.
"No, but if you'll bring her over here, I'll turn her lie into the truth."
Fiona sobbed louder.
He frowned at me as he patted Fiona's back.
"And there it is," I said. Bitterness clung to my throat and filled my mouth. "Could you both leave?"
Nathan took Fiona by the shoulders and set her away from him. "Wait for me outside."
Fiona nodded and then cradled her cheek as she left the room.
"The doctor will be here in a couple of minutes," said Nathan. "I'll check on you later."
"Don't bother."
"I understand why you resent Fiona. Even if you and I are not a love match, marriage shouldn't be treated lightly."
"Why not? Let's treat it lightly. Quit making bold statements to me, okay? Because they sound like promises and my heart believes you. After suffering emotional hell because of Fiona, I still want to love you. I'm the world's biggest moron." I was messing up my second-chance life because apparently I didn't know how to stop crushing on Nathan Jang.
"Vanessa—"
"Shut up. I don't care anymore. I don't want to see you until the wedding. And after the wedding, I don't want to see you for anything other than what our business marriage requires."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he searched my face, his dark eyes scanning mine like he was looking for some sign that I didn't mean what I said.
"What about the children clause? They're a requirement."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Right. I forgot I was also a broodmare. Artificial insemination will work, right? Or we can use a surrogate. We don't have to touch each other to make babies." I waved him away, my fingers trembling. "Go on. I wouldn't want you to miss out on your romantic date at Georgio's."
"Georgio's?" His brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Fiona told me all about how you bought her diamond earrings and how you're going to take her to my favorite restaurant." The words tasted like acid in my mouth. I closed my eyes and blew out a shaky breath. What was I doing? Hadn't I just told him to leave me alone? "Never mind. None of my business."
The doctor chose that moment to stride into the hospital room, his sharp eyes taking in the charged silence between us. "Everything okay?"
I crossed my arms and muttered, "Hmph!"
"What's wrong with my wife?" asked Nate.
I glared at him. "What wife?"
The doctor's gaze bounced between us before he wisely decided to ignore our drama. He focused on me instead. "Mrs. Jang, you were severely dehydrated. We've gotten some fluids into you and medication for your fever and nausea. I advise you to stay overnight for observation."
"Okay," I said. "Thank you."
With a curt nod, he left.
Nate exhaled, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I'll be back soon."
"Would you not, please? Just stay away from me."
His hands clenched before he shoved them into his pockets, his expression hardening. "You really don't want me around?"
"I really, really don't."
For a second, I thought he'd argue. But instead, his shoulders stiffened. "Fine." Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door shutting behind him.
The second he was gone, my breath hitched, and the tears I'd been choking back spilled over. I covered my face with my hands, my body shaking with silent sobs.
Because, as we've firmly established, I'm an I-D-I-O-T.
And the worst part?
I wished he'd come back.