Chapter 2

I returned to my room, grabbed my bag, yanked open a drawer, and crammed everything inside haphazardly. I didn’t want to stay here a moment longer. Suddenly, there was a noise at the doorway.

Marshall Vasquez was leaning casually against the doorframe. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

I wasn’t in the mood to play games with him or waste any breath. But Marshall seemed unfazed by my tone.

“Are you sure you want to let Ricardo run off to Maisy? He claims he wants to marry you.”

My knuckles tightened around my luggage. “Just because he wants to marry me, I have to say yes? Do you really think I’m some lovesick fool?”

Marshall stepped inside, closed the door behind him, effectively trapping me in the room. His voice stayed calm and even.

“You’re leaving now, but what will people think? They’ll say you ran away from the wedding, that you let Ricardo down.”

“And he, in turn, becomes the poor soul everyone feels sorry for. He can easily end up with Maisy, and no one will bat an eye.”

The impulse to leave started to fade away.

“And the company just went public. You know what you’ve given up to get there. Walking away means Maisy gets to enjoy all your hard work. Eva Rogers, are you really okay with that?”

“After being played for so long, don’t you want a little payback?”

His voice lowered, like he was peeling back layers of my heart. I couldn’t understand why Marshall was telling me this or why he seemed to be on my side. But he was right.

I sat down heavily on the bed, feeling utterly deflated and weak.

“When did you figure out I was faking my amnesia?”

By his expression, he’d known for a while.

Marshall casually sat next to me. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with a faint hint of tobacco felt out of place in this modest hotel room.

“I knew from the start. When you were pretending, you nearly shredded the bedsheet.”

I flinched as if burned, quickly pulling back the hand that was now twisting my Victorian-style dress.

I’d had this habit since childhood. Whenever I lied or got nervous, I’d twist the sheets. The people close to me knew this. Even Marshall, whom I thought disliked me, had noticed—but Ricardo hadn’t.

It dawned on me that Ricardo’s lack of genuine care had been there all along, but I’d failed to see it, focusing only on the surface.

Ricardo would bring me snacks late at night when I was working overtime and a hot water bottle when I had cramps. But he never noticed when I was feeling down, nor did he ever ask what I liked.

Some people are kind but never truly invested in your every move.

I turned to Marshall. “Why are you helping me?”

He was Ricardo’s friend, after all. He should’ve looked down on me like everyone else. I remembered how much Marshall seemed to dislike me. When I first got together with Ricardo, I’d overheard him advising Ricardo, “Eva doesn’t suit you. If you’re going to break up eventually, better not to start at all.”

Marshall seemed annoyed by my questioning and frowned slightly. “Who’s helping you? Maybe you’re overthinking it. I just enjoy a good show.”

After saying that, he turned his head away, avoiding my gaze. Yet, I felt an inexplicable emotion rising inside me.

“Okay, let’s grab something to eat.” Marshall stood and dusted off his tailored suit pants. “You’ve been living on caffeine all day.”

We went downstairs together. As we entered the restaurant, eyes turned toward us almost simultaneously.

Maisy was seated next to Ricardo. Colleagues whispered among themselves, saying how they “looked better together” and that “Maisy is the perfect match for the boss.”

My hand, resting by my side, clenched into a fist. Half of these people had been personally recruited by me. They owed their jobs to me, yet deemed me unworthy of Ricardo.

Given Ricardo’s prickly temper, he’d alienate people with just one sentence during negotiations. It was me who joked, apologized, and toasted on his behalf time and again, sometimes to the point of stomach pains, to ensure deals were made.

Without me, Ricardo might have found himself in serious trouble. They would have left long ago.

At the table, Ricardo prepared pulled pork for Maisy, cautioning her, “Stay away from the spiced honey cake. I remember you’re allergic.”

Seated across from them, I raised my wine glass and took a long drink. My stomach twisted with pain, as if churned by a knife. Ricardo never remembered my dietary restrictions, nor did he know about my stomach issues.

Someone suggested a game of spin the bottle. Everyone cheered as the bottle spun, landing on Ricardo and Maisy.

“Kiss! Kiss!” someone shouted. Ricardo grinned, pulled Maisy into his arms, and kissed her without hesitation. The smack of their lips was unmistakable.

I stared at them, feeling as though someone was cruelly twisting my heart.

For the next round, the bottle turned and landed between me and Marshall. The room fell silent.

I paused, turning awkwardly to look at Marshall. He leaned close to my ear. “You can bow out. I’ll take three shots; it’s no big deal.”

I glanced at Ricardo. He was busy wiping lipstick off Maisy’s mouth, not even sparing me a look. My chest tightened, my stomach churned with nausea.

“Why would I refuse? I can handle it.”

“Alright.”

Marshall’s face came closer. Our breaths mingled. I felt my heart pounding, like a drum beating out of sync.