Spencer started pulling away, colder with every passing day. Fiona, though, stayed just as sugary sweet as always.
Then one morning, the three of us got kidnapped on the way to school.
The second Fiona saw a chance, she bailed—didn't even look back at Spencer or me.

When Spencer spiked a fever, I did what I had to do. I endured the kidnappers' disgusting hands all over me.
In that moment, it felt like I was right back in those awful nights of my childhood, when the butler's hands went where they had no right to be.
Past and present blurred together in my mind, tearing me apart from the inside.
When the Sauns and Wores finally showed up with help, I was kneeling next to Spencer, breaking off pieces of stale bread and feeding him carefully. Blood had dried on my thighs—I hadn't even had time to clean it.
When Spencer woke, he reached for Fiona, holding her like she was his lifeline, swearing he'd love and cherish her forever.
I didn't bother defending myself. He'd never really believed in me anyway, always clinging to the lies around him.

The SaunCorp fell apart. Business failures piled up, and tragedy struck—one by one, his parents died in freak accidents. Their downfall made them unworthy of the Wore family, and the Wores wasted no time. They packed up, took Fiona, and moved abroad.
I thought about leaving too. But when I saw Spencer drunk and broken, I couldn't walk away.
For years, I stayed.
When Spencer started rebuilding his life, it was because of me. I sold my grandfather's little fishing village house—the last thing I had left of him—to fund Spencer's first business. It worked. His company took off.

But when he celebrated those wins, he still saw Fiona in me. Night after night, he used me as a stand-in.
I got pregnant with Spencer's child.
But the baby didn't survive.
Why? Because my womb was damaged. The kidnappers had gotten me pregnant, and Mrs. Saun forced me to have an abortion. It destroyed my chances of ever carrying a child again.
Now Spencer has everything—except Fiona. And it's killing him.
So he proposed, not out of love, but to bait Fiona into showing whether she still cared.
On our wedding day, Fiona came back.
The Wore family's business was failing, and Spencer, powerful again, was suddenly their best bet.
In the end, wasn't all of this my fault?
***
As Clara spilled the truth, Fiona lost it—screaming, flailing, full-on meltdown mode.
Spencer just sat there, slumped on the floor, looking like a ghost—totally wrecked.
Clara shot him a cold, "you're pathetic" glance and walked off. Reporters swarmed her, all hungry for more dirt.
Later, at the hospital, Clara stood by my bed, staring at my lifeless face.
No victory dance, no smug grin—just guilt.
'Why didn't I do this sooner?' she must've thought.
***
Spencer showed up at the hospital over and over, but Clara blocked him every time.
He brought in some world-class medical team and all the fancy meds money could buy. Clara didn't stop him—it was the least he owed me.
Still, he begged to see me. Every. Single. Time.
"You wanna see Maya? Not a chance. Unless you crawl from the entrance to her room, begging the whole way," Clara snapped.
And he actually did it. Crawled on his knees, forehead to the floor at my door.
Clara finally let him in.
The second he walked in, my monitors freaked out, alarms screaming. My chest felt like it would burst—I couldn't even look at him.
Clara, furious, dragged him out, slamming the door. His sobs echoed in the hallway, but she didn't budge.
***
Doctor Bever was arrested.
When they couldn't find a kidney donor in time, they targeted a poor girl—a healthy kid with greedy parents. Her mom and dad, blinded by cash, drugged her with a piece of candy and handed her over.
Doctor Bever was just about to make the first cut when the cops burst in. Busted for illegal organ trafficking.
He took the fall, claiming Fiona didn't know a thing. The case dragged on, but without solid proof, she slipped through the cracks. Again.
But with Doctor Bever in jail and Spencer no longer covering for her, Fiona's luck ran out. The Wore family was drowning in their own mess, leaving her completely on her own.
One stormy night, she died alone in an alley near the hospital. Rumor had it she was skin and bones, her mouth stuffed with rotting, maggot-ridden food. A brutal end for a brutal life.
***
Spencer showed up at my grave again looking rough—dark circles, unshaven, totally wrecked.
He lit a small candle in front of my headstone.
A gust of wind snuffed it out instantly.
That was me.
Why? Because his presence was annoying.