Chapter 43: Dignity, Crushed

Julian glanced back and saw Cora frozen where she stood—face drained, mouth pressed white, tears finally breaking free.

“A gift,” she whispered, shaking. “So that night… you planned it.”

The word gutted her. Something in Julian’s chest tightened, sharp as a pin.

“Jule, look at me,” Dina insisted, voice wobbling with faux hurt. “You can’t marry a gift. I’m the one who was supposed to be your wife. I’m back now, okay? Divorce her, marry me. I’ll give you children—however many you want.”

Cora stepped out from behind Julian, disbelief carving through the shock. “Dina… why? Why would you do that?”

We were supposed to be best friends. Sisters.

Dina turned, and the disgust in her eyes was unhidden. Her gaze snagged on the necklace at Cora’s throat—the halo of diamonds, Beloved Heart—and something feral flashed across her face.

She’d coveted it. Of course she had. Why, in Dina’s world, did everything Cora touched have to become hers?

“Why?” Dina’s laugh bared teeth. “You have the nerve to ask why?” She stepped forward, voice laced with acid. “I am so done with you and that pitying look you give me.”

Pity? I never— Cora’s head shook hard, tears falling faster, terror hollowing into hurt.

“Cora, you think you’re better than me because you were pure?” Dina sneered. “So what? Look at you now—what do you have left?”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you back then,” Cora said, voice trembling. “But I never pitied you. I told you everything. I thought the whole world might throw me away—except you.”

“Shut up. You make me sick.” Dina’s eyes went bright with rage. “Women like you? Made to be abandoned. Your real parents tossed you first. The Devs took you in and still tossed you. That boyfriend swore he loved you—left you for cash anyway. And more people will keep dumping you, because you’re just that repellent.”

The words hit like blows. Cora swayed, catching herself on the edge of the table.

Her hair had fallen loose; tear tracks salted her skin. Even Matt’s betrayal hadn’t humiliated her like this. She needed out—now.

“Don’t pretend to be the victim,” Dina shouted after her. “You lost a little ‘virtue,’ big deal, and now you’ve stolen my boyfriend, got yourself pregnant, and married him? Give him back. We’re even.”

Vision swimming, Cora lurched for the door and stumbled into the polished hallway beyond. Where could she go? Where did a person go to cry in a glass-and-steel cathedral?

She shoved into a restroom, locked herself in a stall, sank onto the closed lid, and finally let it break. The ugliness tore out of her in muffled sobs.

Even? After a lifetime together?

Walking home side by side. Sharing snacks when Grandma was furious. Her shifts to fund Dina’s modeling classes. The secret jokes. The dreams.

You made me a gift for a man, placed on his bed like tribute.

I hope you know what that did to me.

Fine. You want the ledger closed? It’s closed.

Back in the private dining room, Julian moved to follow—but Dina threw herself at his legs, clutching like a drowning swimmer.

“Jule, don’t do this to me!” she sobbed. “I called, you wouldn’t answer. I emailed, you never replied. She doesn’t even love you! Why keep a loveless marriage? We still have something real. I’ll marry you now, I’ll have your babies. Please.”

He stared down at her and felt nothing but revulsion. Entitlement, slicked in tears.

“Dina,” he said, voice low, controlled. “The moment you sent Cora into my bed, we were done. Get out.”

He shook her off and started for the door.

“Julian, don’t make me,” she yelled after him, desperation sharpening into threat. “Watson wants that Korean deal so badly, right? They saw everything. If I don’t clarify for them, you can kiss the contract goodbye.”

Of course. There it was—the point.

“If I keep quiet, Cora stays the slut who stole her best friend’s man,” Dina went on, breath hitching in agitated triumph. “Think the chairman will still sign with a man who keeps trash like that around?”

“You’re threatening me,” Julian said. Frost hid the fury.

“I’m loving you,” she said, gliding behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, inhaling him like a drug. “This is what love looks like.”

He pried her fingers off, one by one, and shoved her away. Then he walked out.

“Austin,” he said as he stepped into the corridor. Austin appeared from the shadow by the door, offering a pack of wipes. Julian cleaned his hands; Austin placed a phone in his palm.

Julian watched the footage—every word, every slap, captured. “Good. Archive it.”

He handed the phone back.

“Second corridor restroom, sir,” Austin said quietly.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Julian’s eyes. He turned and strode off.

Dina hurried after him, but Austin slid in front of her. Two security officers closed ranks. A hand clamped over her mouth before the scream could rip free. She was dragged backward, wild-eyed and flailing.

Austin exhaled once. Did she really think she could outplay Mr. Watson?

Damage had been done, though. The rest was up to his boss.

Inside the stall, Cora pressed her fist to her chest. The pain there was a relentless, twisting thing.

Matt had gutted her. Dina hollowed her out.

Matt sold their first love, and somehow she’d still clung to a scrap of dignity. Dina ground what remained beneath her heel.

A sudden pounding rattled the door. “Cora. Open up.”

Julian.

What now? Come to witness the wreckage? To inspect the “gift” after it’s been unwrapped and ruined?

You knew, didn’t you?

That morning—the check you tried to leave—of course you knew. Of course the two of you knew everything. And I was the fool who still believed in fairytales.