Chapter 2

I turned to leave, but Anderson's mother, Laura, rushed forward and grabbed my hand.

"Georgina, don't go!"

She spun around to face Anderson, her expression hardening instantly.

"Anderson, apologize to Georgina right now. Stop acting like a child!"

Anderson still had Alice's hand locked in his. Laura dropped her voice low.

"You know exactly why the Johnson men have married into their family for generations. Thirty years ago, your uncle broke that rule. He got hit by a truck on his thirtieth birthday and was crushed to death."

"And your Uncle Robert — he called off his engagement just like you're doing today, strutting around like nothing could touch him. You know what happened? The second he blew out his birthday candles, he collapsed and bled out right there."

"Your birthday is in three days, Anderson. You're throwing your life away. Apologize to Georgina. Now."

"Mom, enough!"

Anderson cut her off, impatient and dismissive. He pointed at me and let out a contemptuous laugh.

"That was an accident. That was a heart attack. Neither of those things had anything to do with some marriage contract."

"This whole 'curse' thing? It's a scam. A con designed specifically to trap our family. They built it around us."

"And if you actually force me to marry her — I swear to God — I won't wait for my thirtieth birthday. I'll kill myself right now."

Anderson pulled out a knife and pressed it to his own throat.

Alice dropped to her knees in front of Laura, tears streaming down her face.

"Please — just trust science for once. I have monitoring equipment on Anderson. His health is perfect."

"His birthday is in three days. Let us prove it to you. The curse, the contract — it's all a lie. I earned my medical degree for this exact moment. Please — give me a chance. Give Anderson a chance."

"Mom, if you don't agree—"

Anderson dragged the blade across his neck. A thin line of red opened up, and blood ran down his throat, soaking into the groom's suit I had personally chosen for him.

"Fine! Stop — just stop!" Laura's voice cracked. She lunged forward and wrenched the knife from his hand. Then she turned to me, guilt written across every inch of her face.

"Georgina... I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

I cut her off. I let the corner of my mouth pull into a small, quiet smile.

"Honestly? I hope Alice does break this curse. I want our girls to be free. None of us ever wanted to marry into the Johnson family."

I walked away quickly.

Behind me, Anderson's voice followed — thick with disgust.

"Manipulative little liar! I feel sick just looking at you. Get out of my sight!"

I jogged out of the banquet hall. The moment I stepped through the doors, I doubled over and coughed up a mouthful of dark, blackened blood.

I should have stayed on the mountain for a few more years before coming down.

But three years ago, Anderson had seen me for the first time. He'd looked me straight in the eyes, grabbed my hand, and said with complete sincerity:

"I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?"

It was the first time a boy had ever confessed to me. I believed every single word.

I had seen the weakness in his body right away.

Because I was worried about him, I knelt before my teacher for seven days and seven nights until he gave me permission to leave the mountain.

Once I was actually with Anderson, I understood just how powerful the curse really was.

My abilities weren't strong enough to fight it directly. The only way to keep him healthy was to drain my own life force — feeding it into him, night after night, while I lay awake in agony, my organs burning from the inside until dawn.

I had told myself it was worth it. That you give everything for the person you love.

What I hadn't known was that his confession had been a performance. A means to an end. Before he ever approached me, he had already slept with seven other women.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. I swallowed the dense, aching grief pressing against my ribs and left the hotel.

I thought it was finally over.

But the moment I got back to my apartment, I stopped cold.

The hallway walls were covered in red spray paint. FRAUD. WITCH. SLUT. Over and over again.

And the small room I had carefully made into a home — the one filled with everything my mother had left me — was completely engulfed in flames.