Chapter 3

I packed up the camera, turned, and disappeared into the dark. I made my way back to the beat-up secondhand car I'd rented outside the resort.

The interior reeked of cheap air freshener. I leaned back against the seat, scrolling through the footage I'd just exported to my phone, a cold smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.

I had been playing a role for three full years to get to this moment.

Everyone believed I was a broke nobody — a social climber clinging to people above him.

Every morning at six sharp, I dragged myself out of bed and went to the market to buy the freshest ingredients, just to make Serena the soup she liked. I sliced the meat so thin it was almost translucent, skimmed off every drop of fat, all because she'd once mentioned she didn't like greasy food.

I memorized every one of her preferences and food aversions. No chives. No offal. No cold water during her period. At work dinners, I always trailed behind her like a servant — blocking drinks meant for her, carrying her bags.

At Richard's company, I worked the lowest rung: a procurement clerk. When the department manager hurled files at my face and screamed at me, I kept my head down and smiled through the humiliation. I spent two hours crammed in a packed subway every morning, wearing the same white shirt until the collar frayed, too stubborn — or too broke — to replace it.

Every cent of my meager paycheck, I handed over without keeping a single dollar for myself. At lunch, I ate cold sandwiches.

I played the part so convincingly that even Richard — that cunning old fox — let his guard down. He genuinely believed he had a spineless pushover he could mold however he pleased.

But what they didn't know —

The Dominic who burned with a 103-degree fever, lying on the cold floor, calling Serena for help, only to be told "Noah's dog is sick and I need to be with him — just drink more water" before she hung up. In the moment that call ended, his eyes went completely cold.

The Dominic who watched Serena use his paycheck to buy Noah a Patek Philippe, then got a finger jabbed in his face while she sneered, "Are you even a man? So petty." That Dominic was already quietly calculating how to skin them both alive.

The Dominic who let Noah move in under the excuse of having "nowhere to stay" — strutting around in his slippers, drinking from his cups, even wandering through the living room at midnight wearing Serena's silk robe — had already been weaving an inescapable trap in the shadows.

Over these three years, I had fooled Serena. I had fooled Richard. There were even moments I almost fooled myself.

I scrolled through my photo gallery — thousands of pictures I'd taken of Serena over the past three years.

Her smile in the sunlight, bright and open. The look of surprise in her eyes when she unwrapped the bag I'd saved six months of paychecks to buy. The curve of her face as she slept against my shoulder.

I had once been naive enough to think — if she could show me even a shred of genuine feeling, if she could hold on to even the bare minimum of loyalty, maybe I would let go of that blood feud. Maybe I would take her somewhere far away and live a quiet, ordinary life.

But she never did.

Again and again, she ground my dignity into the dirt. Again and again, her cruelty and recklessness reminded me exactly why I could never forget.

I pressed delete.

Confirm delete all photos?

Confirm.

I watched the gallery wipe itself clean in an instant. A long, slow breath left my lungs.

The game where the hunter pretended to be the prey — it was time to end it.

I opened my phone and sent Edward the message I had been holding for five years.

"Go."