Chapter 2
That time, Phoebe's heart raced. She couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement, but when he kissed her, she gave in completely.
She thought their love was unbreakable, but the moment she saw Xander and Alena locked in a heated embrace, kissing deeply, everything she believed in shattered.
Xander was caught off guard, but he immediately shook his head. "No."
The silence in the hospital room was almost suffocating, until his phone suddenly rang.
Alena wanted him to go to an art show with her.
Xander glanced at Phoebe. If she just said the word, he'd stay.
But she only stared out the window, her face blank. Finally, he picked up his coat.
"Get some rest. Once you're better, we'll tie the knot again," he said.
"This time, I'll read every single document you ever sign. Don't even think about leaving me again," he added.
As soon as Xander left, Phoebe shot up from the bed and rushed to the door, but two burly men blocked her way like a wall.
Feeling defeated, Phoebe stepped back. The only escape was the window. She glanced outside, searching for a way out.
It was the second floor, and there was a patch of grass below. With any luck, she wouldn't die from the fall.
Even if it killed her, she'd rather risk it than marry the man who shattered her heart, or suffer Alena's humiliation again.
Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut and leapt.
But instead of the bone-crushing pain she expected, Phoebe felt herself land softly, like someone had caught her in midair.
She blinked open her eyes and found Xander sprawled on the ground beside her, grimacing in agony.
"Phoebe, are you out of your mind?" Xander yelled.
Xander's right arm was clearly broken, while Phoebe had only a few scratches on her calf from the branches—just a minor injury.
Once she was finally alone with the doctor in the operating room, Phoebe slipped off the ring Xander had just forced onto her finger.
"This ring is worth 10 million dollars. Please, when you remove the stitches, just let me 'die' on the operating table," she pleaded.
The doctor hesitated. "Miss Hamilton, your wounds are way too shallow. There's no way you could die from them."
Phoebe stared at her injury and then suddenly sat up with all her strength, like she was numb to the pain, and jammed the ring deep into her torn flesh.
"This could cause a serious infection. If it gets worse, you could end up needing an amputation," the doctor warned.
Phoebe's forehead was drenched in cold sweat, but she kept her eyes closed, her face almost unnaturally calm.
"Go ahead and stitch it up. And remember our agreement," she said.
Phoebe was wheeled out by the bodyguards, only to come face-to-face with Alena, who was just stepping out of the room across the hall.
It had been a year, and Alena had cut her long black hair short, but her domineering streak was still as fierce as ever.
"Are you the reason Xander got injured?" Alena snapped.
She slapped Phoebe with a flourish, her chin raised high in arrogant pride.
Phoebe's face was still healing, and the slap reopened her wounds, staining the white bandages with blood.
Xander stepped out of the room behind her, catching Alena's second slap before it could land. His eyes flickered briefly to Phoebe.
"Enough, it's not a big deal," he said.
Alena spun around, whining playfully, "Is your heart aching for her now that I hit her?"
Xander paused, then said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your hands are for playing piano. Don't waste them on her."
Alena gave Phoebe a triumphant glance and nestled herself into Xander's arms.
The atmosphere felt heavy, but Phoebe was completely numb inside.
Back then, whenever she saw Xander and Alena getting close, she'd break up with him, get into physical fights, or even attempt suicide.
But all that ever got her was even harsher punishments—put in solitary confinement, forced to eat spoiled leftovers, or even having her head forcibly shaved.
Now, she'd finally learned her lesson.
Xander said he'd be back to check on her tomorrow and then left with Alena.
But the next day came and went, and the day after that too. He never showed up.
Every channel was buzzing with news about Xander and Alena's wedding. At the same time, photos of Xander hauling her back from the airport somehow ended up on TV too.
The host went off, calling her the shameless homewrecker who wrecked their childhood love, and now, even with their wedding coming up, she was still desperate to climb into his bed.
Phoebe switched off the TV, her expression empty. 'Alena's the one who played the mistress, not me,' she thought bitterly.
But now, she wasn't even allowed to have a face that resembled hers—forget about ever having a real place in their lives.
On the day she left the hospital, Xander was still nowhere to be seen. Phoebe had to check herself out, all alone.
When she walked up to the Sampson family car, the driver wouldn't even let her in.
"Miss Hamilton, you can't get in unless Mr. Sampson says so," the driver said.
Phoebe was only wearing a flimsy jacket, and she instinctively shrank into it as the cold wind bit at her.
"Didn't Xander tell you to pick me up?" she asked.
The driver kept up a polite act, but his eyes were full of disdain.
"Mr. Sampson told me to pick you up, but he never said which day," the driver replied.
Phoebe clenched the hem of her sleeve, fully aware he was just messing with her. But if she wanted to get in the car, she had to force herself to act meek.
"You don't have anything else to do today, right? Just take me home, okay?" she said.
The driver leaned back in his seat, absently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
"I'm not allowed to drive without Mr. Sampson or Mrs. Sampson's permission," he said.