Chapter 3

I actually went to the restaurant.

I don't know why—maybe out of a morbid curiosity to see exactly how Jasper planned to orchestrate this charade.

Elara arrived looking like an overgrown pageant queen in a saccharine-pink Valentino mini dress.

She commandeered the table, rattling off orders for truffle risotto, wagyu sliders, and half the dessert menu.

Jasper buzzed around her. He plated her food, swapped her sparkling water for still, and cut her steak, completely ignoring his own meal.

Mid-bite, Elara blinked her oversized, heavily mascaraed eyes at me.

"Lira, I heard you're pitching a fit and trying to dump my brother," she said, her tone dripping with mock innocence.

"I guess the engagement dinner thing was my bad. Just forgive him, okay?"

It was the kind of flippant, textbook mean-girl apology that demanded submission rather than offering remorse.

To Jasper, those two sentences were probably proof of her profound maturity.

I stared at her, an empty smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.

"Sure," I said flatly. "I forgive him."

The indifference in my voice was a match struck in a powder keg.

Elara's sweet facade slipped. Her face contorted, and she stood up abruptly, sweeping her bone-china plate off the table.

It shattered against the floor with a violence that made the surrounding tables jump.

"Jasp!" she shrieked. "She's not even mad! Why did you drag me here to apologize to a brick wall?!"

Jasper rubbed his temples, an exhausted sigh escaping him. But instead of reprimanding the grown woman who had just thrown a literal tantrum, he looked at me with accusing eyes.

"Lira," he muttered. "You've been packing your bags and freezing me out for two days because you're furious. Why are you suddenly acting like this? You're just trying to make her look bad."

I was the villain for not screaming at her. Naturally. Whatever narrative Elara spun, he bought it wholesale.

The soft, lilting hum of a live string quartet in the corner only highlighted the sheer humiliation of the spectacle we were causing in the middle of a Michelin-starred dining room.

I picked up my clutch and stood.

"I've lost my appetite," I said. "I'm going to the restroom."

I barely had time to turn on the faucet before the restroom door swung shut behind me.

Elara stood there, her hands planted on her hips, all traces of tears gone.

"You are so pathetic," she sneered, blocking the exit.

"I've sabotaged you for a solid decade, and you're still desperately clinging to him. Have you no shame?"

I pumped a drop of soap into my palms, thoroughly washing my hands. I looked at her through the reflection of the mirror.

"I broke up with him, Elara. Whatever twisted game you two are playing, it has nothing to do with me anymore."

I reached for a hand towel, my eyes catching the aggressive sparkle of diamonds on her skin.

On her right index finger sat a flawless three-carat oval cut. Hanging from a heavy gold chain around her neck was another diamond-studded band.

Both were gifts from Jasper.

For ten years, I had dropped hints about wanting to build a life together. He had stalled and deflected, yet every year, he happily marched into luxury jewelers to indulge Elara's demands for "birthday rings."

Actually, part of me had wanted to slap her when she first sat down at that table flaunting them.

But I didn't have to.

"Is that right?" Elara's eyes narrowed into dark, calculated slits. "If you're really done, then do me one last favor."

Without a second of hesitation, she raised her hand and slapped herself across the cheek—hard.

Then, she grabbed the collar of her dress and tore the silk fabric down the seam.

She let out a bloodcurdling sob, threw open the door, and bolted back into the dining room.

I followed slowly, watching the final act of the play.

Elara threw herself into Jasper's arms, weeping hysterically.

"Jasp! She hit me! She said she's going to ruin my life because I ruined her dinner! Don't marry her, please! I'm scared!"

Jasper pulled back, seeing the angry red handprint blooming on Elara's cheek and her torn collar. The protective fury that had once made him run into a blazing wildfire to save my life was now directed entirely at me.

"Lira!" The sheer disgust in his voice felt like a physical blow. "Throwing a tantrum and moving out is one thing, but physical assault? When did you become so vindictive?"

I laughed. A short, cynical breath of amusement.

Curled into his chest, Elara feigned a panic attack, urging him to get her out of there before I could expose her lie.

Jasper didn't bother asking for my side of the story. He shot me one last look of profound, chilling disappointment, wrapped his heavy jacket around Elara's shoulders, and escorted her out.

I stood alone in the center of the restaurant, absorbing the whispered judgments and staring eyes.

This wasn't the first time he had abandoned me in a crowded room.

Whenever Elara and I clashed, he always prioritized soothing her.

His excuse was a broken record: "I told you when we started dating, Lira. I owe them my life. I have to repay the debt."

I had swallowed my pride and endured the disrespect for years because I thought his loyalty was honorable.

Now, I just saw a man who used his trauma as a shield to avoid accountability.

An hour later, I was sitting in the back of a car heading toward my parents' estate when my phone rang.

It was Jasper.

"Lira," his voice was tight, layered with exhaustion.

"I had to give Elara a sedative to get her to sleep. When she wakes up, you are going to give her a massive apology. Do you understand?"

For ten years, I had never hit the 'End Call' button on Jasper Boone. No matter how mad I was, I always listened. I always compromised.

This time, I didn't say a single word. I just hung up.