Chapter 3
That day, Matthew dressed me up beautifully.
He carefully covered the patches of skin that had peeled due to my illness with foundation.
The sickly look on my face was gone. If I hadn't been in a wheelchair, no one would have believed I was at death's door.
As soon as we entered the private room of the club, a sudden chill ran through me.
Matthew immediately saw my shiver and ordered, "Turn off the AC."
His childhood buddy, Charles West, was the first to complain.
He said, "Come on, Matthew, there's a whole gang of us here, busting our asses for your girl's birthday. Now you're telling us we can't even keep the AC on?"
The others quickly chimed in, backing Charles up.
Matthew scowled, his brows drawing together in a deep frown. "This is Cora's birthday party. She comes first—especially now that she's so sick. Cut her some slack, alright?"
The guys forced out smiles.
Charles' eyes didn't exactly ooze kindness. He sized me up from head to toe, and his gaze finally lingered on the wheelchair.
He said, "What's this, Matthew? Some new party trick? You really had her roll in with a wheelchair?"
A shiver ran down my spine at Charles' words.
Every time Matthew was about to pull some cruel prank on me, his friends would always toss out a line like that.
I'd heard it so many times that now, just hearing these words made me automatically tense up.
But this time, Matthew placed his warm hand firmly on my shoulder, impatience clear in his tone.
"Enough with the jokes," Matthew said. "You're all invited here to celebrate Cora's birthday. Why is everyone messing around?"
Charles nodded, giving Matthew a sly look. He said with a smile, "Alright, Matthew. Aren't you going to order your Cora's favorite dishes? Go ahead. Don't worry. Cora's in good hands."
Charles acted all chummy, so Matthew didn't think twice about it. After settling me in, he walked out of the private room.
The moment the door closed behind Matthew, the energy in the room suddenly spiked.
Matthew's buddies shot me mocking stares—like a bunch of vultures eyeing fresh meat.
I clenched the armrests of my wheelchair, feeling a creeping sense of dread rising up inside me.
Just then, the door to the private room swung open.
I whipped my head around and the moment I saw who it was, a chill ran through my veins.
Sienna sauntered in, her stilettos clicking against the floor. She wore a playful smile.
"Cora," Sienna sneered, "I've been waiting ages for this. And now I finally caught you.
"I have no clue what kind of magic you've used to bewitch Matthew lately, but it's over now."
She shoved me toward the table and grabbed a bottle of hard liquor.
I instinctively tried to duck my head, but Sienna grabbed my chin and forced my face upright.
She jammed the mouth of the bottle against my lips.
Sienna scoffed, "Aren't you always pretending to be sick? You've been claiming kidney failure, acting like you're about to drop dead. But look at you—cheeks all flushed with health. Who would ever believe you're dying?
"Women who fake being frail are the worst. You really think a few tears is all it takes to win back a man's heart?"
Sienna yanked my head up, pressing the bottle harder against my mouth. The harsh liquor scorched its way down my throat.
I coughed uncontrollably, the liquor shooting up my nose and choking me so bad I couldn't even catch my breath.
A jolt of icy wet made me shudder as Sienna poured every last drop of the bottle all over me.
Of course. Here we go again.
My makeup started to run, showing my real skin underneath—a sickly pale shade.
I thought maybe, just maybe, if Sienna saw how bad I looked, she'd finally lay off.
But even as I slumped into my wheelchair, like some beaten stray, Sienna only flashed a satisfied grin.
"Now that's more like it," she sneered. "You finally look like ill. No need to thank me."
She grinned like the devil, totally clueless that I was already at death's door. I'd only just gotten out of the hospital. There was no way I could take this. My vision started to blur.
All of a sudden, I spat out a massive mouthful of blood.
Sienna panicked. "Are you for real? Just a few sips and you're already coughing up blood? God, you're such a drama queen."
Charles hesitated and shuffled toward us, sounding unsure. "Sienna, seriously, she looks terrible. Maybe she's actually sick. Should we take her to the hospital or something?"
Sienna shot Charles a look and pouted. I couldn't hold on any longer—I went limp and toppled right out of the wheelchair.
Everything spun around me, and then I heard panicked screams filling the room.
"Call an ambulance now!" several people screamed.
As the ambulance sped off with me, Matthew burst back into the room, frantic.
It was like some sixth sense kicked in—he scanned the room, but I was gone. His panic spiked.
Then he caught sight of Charles slumped on the sofa, looking totally out of it. Matthew marched over, eyes blazing.
"Where's Cora?" Matthew roared. "Where did you take her?"
Charles replied, "Cora suddenly got sick. We called an ambulance. She's heading to the hospital now."
Matthew didn't waste another second. He tore out of the room, speeding like a madman in his car to the hospital.
When Matthew burst into the hospital room and saw me lying there, barely alive, he rushed over and gripped my hand.
"Cora," he choked out, "hold on. You're going to be fine. We'll get you into surgery right now."
Seeing Matthew so panicked, so desperate, it was like the 18-year-old version of him had returned.
After all, only that boy from back then would go to any lengths for me, no matter the cost.
I twitched my fingers, my breath shallow.
"Matthew," I whispered, "if you ever get the chance to go back in time... Please, just stay away from me."
As soon as those words left my mouth, I stopped breathing.