Chapter 4

Luna had already reached the point where she could walk right into my home, enter as if she belonged there, and take out his clothes.

Only then did it hit me, a little too late: that place would soon stop being my home.

Michael followed the direction of my finger and softened his voice at once. "Didn't I tell you not to come out? What if the paparazzi photographed you?"

He pulled Luna inside, concern written all over his face.

After setting the suit on the couch, she gave me a flawless smile.

She said softly, "Michael, Eva's doctor is looking for you."

He walked out and closed the door behind him.

I looked at the full, rosy face in front of me and suddenly realized that although there were only five years between us, we belonged to completely different worlds.

"Luna," I said, my voice dry and hoarse, "you're still so young. Won't you regret doing this?"

Luna let out a soft laugh, innocence laced with cruelty. "Regret? Eva, hardship really has made you stupid.

"With money, I can live better, stay younger, and get prettier. Not like you..."

Her gaze swept slowly from my faded hospital gown to my withered wrists.

She continued, "You wore yourself down to the bone, denied yourself everything, and in the end you still couldn't keep your own husband."

Her words stabbed straight through me.

It was true.

I had come from nothing and was used to scraping by.

Even after Michael got rich, I was always afraid that wealth was only a mirage, afraid he would fall one day.

So I kept saving for him, cutting back for him.

He once held my hands, raw with frostbite, and said, "Evie, you're so good at managing a household."

But somewhere along the way, he stopped taking me to parties and formal dinners.

"Those clothes of yours aren't fit for that crowd," he said.

My gaze shifted from Luna's young, lovely face to the glittering diamond necklace at her throat, then slowly dropped to the back of my own thin, bony hand.

A sharp, absurd realization slammed into my chest.

I said slowly, "Michael.

"Do you despise me because I can't make a sound in bed...

"Or simply because I've grown older and worn down, because I no longer bring you any pride? Because you think I don't match you anymore?"

Michael froze for a heartbeat, then flew into a rage, his hidden thoughts exposed. "Eva, what the hell kind of nonsense are you talking about?

"What man in High Society doesn't have women on the side? You need to allow me some mistakes. I've already got more of a conscience than most by staying with you all these years."

Every word drove into me like a spike.

He had wanted to cheat all along, yet he blamed everything on my flaws. Year after year, he forced me to shoulder all the blame, torturing myself endlessly.

Hatred surged in me until my throat tasted of blood.

Michael leaned close, whispering into my ear like he was handing out charity. "But don't worry. I'm not throwing you away. Without me, you'd have nowhere to go."

There was nowhere for me to dodge, so I shoved him away with all my strength. "Get out."

Barefoot, I ripped out my IV, blood dripping onto the floor one drop at a time.

With my hair in disarray, I must have looked completely insane.

Then the hospital room door burst open.

James strode in, pressed a hand to my shaking shoulder, and said, "Look at me. Breathe in.

"Breathe out."

In. Out.

My frenzied heartbeat was forced back into place.

Michael watched coldly, his voice dark. "Who told you to touch my wife?"

“If I don't save her, she would die.” the doctor replied.

Michael only let out a scornful laugh.

"Three years of treatment for severe depression and she's still this fragile? There are more things she should learn from Lulu than just what happens in bed." he said.

Once, hearing words like that would have left me red-eyed and unable to breathe.

But now there was only emptiness inside.

He looked at the psychiatrist. "Isn't there a new medication overseas? I've already bought it. See if she can use it."

Taking the medicine from his assistant, he set it by my bedside and rubbed my hair.

He said, "You're sick right now. That's why we're having problems. Be good and focus on getting better, okay? Once you're well, we can go back to how things used to be."

Before he even finished speaking, his phone rang.

Luna's panicked voice came through at once. "Michael, those paparazzi are camped outside my place. I'm scared."

"I'm coming right now," he answered without a second of hesitation.

I watched the man's retreating back.

Maybe it was the sedatives, but my mind had never felt clearer.

Memory after memory flashed past, and the vivid face in them slowly drained into black and white.

I tugged at my lips and murmured, "...I understand now."

Michael's steps paused.

But the voice on the other end of the call urged him again.

And without turning back, he slipped out the door.

I lifted my head and looked at James. "I've been hoarding sleeping pills. Two hundred of them. Can you help me?"