I Go from Betrayal to Possession

“Have you tried yourself as I suggested, Nadine?” my lover’s voice was a low, seductive hum, laced with a playful challenge.

We were alone in his room on the second floor, while the ground floor buzzed with the chaotic energy of his usual house party.

The laughter and music below felt like a distant world, one I had no desire to return to.

I nodded, the heat already creeping up my cheeks.

He smiled, a proud gleam in his eyes as he rose from the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. “Can you show me?”

A knot of hesitation twisted in my stomach, but his expectant eyes were hard to refuse.

There was something about the way he looked at me—like I was his entire world. And for that reason alone, I could not disappoint him.

I nodded again, my fingers trembling as I lay back on the bed.

The sheets were cool against my skin, but the chill was quickly overtaken by the fire Raphael had lit within me.

Slowly, my fingers trailed over my body, starting from the delicate curve of my neck down to my core. I shut my eyes, imagining his touch instead of mine, just as he had suggested.

“Good girl,” Raphael whispered, his voice thick with approval. His eyes drank in every move I made, his breathing heavy. “You’re perfect, Nadine. Absolutely perfect.”

I did it because I loved him. I loved this man who watched me with such raw hunger—Raphael Moreau, the son of my family’s bitter rival in Europe.

His family’s influence stretched across the UK like a shadow, while mine ruled over France with prestige and power.

We were not supposed to be together. We were two pieces of different puzzles forced to fit.

But for him, I had given everything. Because he gave me everything, too—just like Romeo to Juliet.

I was the only spare in my family, the one with the freedom to choose her own path.

And I had chosen to study in London, far away from the high expectations and endless scrutiny of my family’s world. I majored in literature because books were my escape.

So, London was where I met Raphael. The man who shattered my quiet world and rebuilt it with the warmth of his smile.

His charm was undeniable, his brilliance wellknown across campus. And that handsome man—impossibly perfect—had fallen for me.

“You’re so beautiful, Nadine,” he murmured, his fingers brushing gently against my flushed cheeks. His touch was both tender and possessive. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead before slowly unbuttoning his shirt, letting the fabric slide from his shoulders. I could only watch, breathless, as he discarded the last barrier between us.

“That was amazing,” he said, his voice a mix of praise and anticipation. “But now... let me show you how much I love you.”

He tore off the plastic with his teeth and swiftly slipped the safety on before his lips claiming mine with urgency and passion.

I gave myself to him. My voice tangled with his as pleasure built between us.

“Raphael...” I gasped as he thrust into me, his name slipping from my lips like a prayer.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, his gaze locking onto mine. “Don’t worry.”

The party continued downstairs, a dull roar of music and laughter that masked our tangled cries and shuddered breaths.

The world beyond this room did not matter. Nothing did, except him.

When our passion finally ebbed, we lay tangled in each other’s arms, our bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. I had never felt so alive, so completely consumed by someone.

Raphael had prepared the best for me—every touch, every kiss, was a testament to how much he desired me.

“You look messy,” he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

His expression had softened, but there was still that gleam of pride and possession in his eyes. “Go clean yourself up and fix your makeup before you go downstairs. We don’t want anyone to suspect anything, do we?”

“Of course.” I nodded, forcing a smile. But something tightened in my chest at his words.

Was he ashamed of me? Or was he only worried about his reputation?

Raphael leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Good girl. You did so well. Thank you for this precious graduation gift, my love.”

I watched him put his clothes back on, his movements graceful and unbothered.

And as he left the room with that same easy confidence, the door closing softly behind him, I felt something unsettling swirl within me.

Maybe it was just the afterglow. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

But before I could linger on it, I got up to clean myself, telling myself over and over that Raphael loved me. That he truly cared.

The alternative was something I was not ready to face.

As I stepped out of the room after showering, I made my way toward the room where Raphael and his friends were gathered.

Just before I could push the door open fully, their laughter spilled into the hallway—casual, mocking, and all too familiar.

“Imagine if tonight’s intimate videos were spread on the internet. The Delaunay family's reputation would definitely be ruined, right?”

“Right! Their daughter’s body displayed like that—how could they not be embarrassed? Haha.”

“To be honest, when I saw it, I also wanted to try it.”

“Damn you,” someone else chuckled. “Before you even succeed, you’d already feel Raphael’s fist.”

My body froze. My fingers clutched the doorframe, my nails digging into the wood as their words slammed into me like icy blades.

My intimate videos? Raphael had... recorded us?

No. No, it could not be true.

But then, Raphael’s voice cut through their laughter, calm and composed, his tone carrying that infuriating air of superiority. “That’s why you shouldn’t make the Moreau family a rival.”

“Right,” one of them agreed. “At least, every time Victor makes your family have a hard time, you have a way to silence them.”

“No, I won’t wait that long. In just a week, at the Moreau Group’s Anniversary, I’ll reveal to the world that their beloved daughter is nothing more than a slave to desire,” Raphael sneered, a smirk curling on his lips.

“Damn you,” one of his friends cursed. “So, this is a gift for your grand debut as the Moreau family’s first successor? You’re ruthless.”

My breath hitched, and I slapped my hand over my mouth, stifling the choked sob that clawed its way up my throat.

It turned out Raphael had been planning to use me to destroy my family’s reputation.

Every smile, every touch, every whispered promise of love had been nothing but a carefully constructed illusion.

I stumbled back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

How could I have been so stupid and utterly blind all the time?

I had given him my trust, believing that what we had was real. But it was nothing more than a cruel, twisted lie.

Still, I refused to crumble. Swallowing my sorrow, I steadied myself and fought back.

My trembling fingers clutched the phone as I scrolled through my contacts, finding the name that had always been my safety net.

Victor Delaunay, my brother. The only one who had ever truly loved me, even when I made decisions that tore him apart.

Victor had been disappointed when he discovered my relationship with Raphael. His frustration was sharp and his disapproval fierce.

But he had never blamed me. Despite everything, he loved me too much to hold my choices against me. His protectiveness often felt suffocating, but it was born from genuine care.

I remembered his last attempt to pull me away from Raphael’s toxic embrace. His cold, matteroffact message felt more like a warning than an invitation.

[Come home. Your fiancé is waiting.]

At the time, I had read those words with resentment, thinking he was trying to control me, to bend my life to his will. I had called him cruel, selfish, and unfeeling.

But that time, I saw his offer for what it truly was—a lifeline.

A chance to leave Raphael forever.

As the call connected, I directly asked first, “Is your offer about the fiancé still valid now, Vic?”

“You finally realized that only your family is good to you?”

Victor’s voice was smooth, unreadable, but I knew him well enough to catch the sharp edge hidden beneath his words.

He had read through my silence, or perhaps, he had always known that I was merely trapped in Raphael’s web of sweet lies.

My fingers tightened around the phone, my throat dry as I finally admitted, “I’m ending it with Raphael. I’ll be returning to Paris.”

A pause. Then, the sound of a slow exhale, deliberate and measured.

“Good,” Victor replied, his tone betraying no emotion except for the faintest trace of vindication. “You should’ve never been with him.”

A surge of frustration flared inside me, a mix of residual heartbreak and the exhaustion of always being told what I should and should not do. “I don’t need a lecture, Vic. I just need you to keep your word.”

Victor hummed, a low, considering sound. “You’ll be taken care of the moment you arrive. Your fiancé is expecting you.”

My stomach twisted.

A fiancé. A stranger. Another man whose presence in my life was dictated by obligation rather than choice.

But anything was better than staying in London, drowning in Raphael’s deceit.

Victor’s voice softened, though it still carried the weight of finality. “Take care of everything for a week. I expect you back then.”

And just like that, the call ended before I could say anything more.

I lowered the phone, staring blankly at the dimly lit bedroom around me. The silence felt heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

That was Victor. The older brother I once knew—sweet, protective, always teasing me with his rare but affectionate smiles—had disappeared years ago.

By the time he turned twenty, he had abandoned the warmth of the Delaunay estate, choosing solitude over family.

Our parents had asked why, and his response had been curt, “It’s only right that I struggle alone. I’ll return only for important occasions.”

And he had meant it. Even though he still met our father at the office, Victor had become a ghost in our family—present in name, but absent in all else.

I was fifteen at that time, so I had longed for my brother’s presence, missed the way he used to ruffle my hair, missed the way he once doted on me with quiet affection.

But at twentyfour, I felt nothing.

I had convinced myself I could live without his shadow. That I did not need him anymore.

But I was wrong.

Victor had calculated everything. And I had walked straight into his plan.

I sighed, the weight of my decision pressing down on my chest like an unbearable burden.

Without a word, I quietly packed my belongings—the clothes I had once folded neatly into Raphael’s drawers, the make up lined up beside his, the scent of his cologne lingering on the fabrics.

I did not belong there anymore. It never had been.

I did not need to stay in his space, where every wall whispered lies and every memory was tainted by betrayal. I would return to my own apartment, where at least the silence was not filled with deception.

As I reached for my makeup bag, my phone vibrated against the wooden nightstand. I hesitated before picking it up, expecting a call from Victor or perhaps another unwanted message from Raphael.

Instead, my screen lit up with an unexpected name.

Colette Birkin, my classmate, the girl who had lingered on the periphery of my relationship, always watching, always prying.

I tapped the message open, my fingers tightening around the phone.

[Nadine, you know if Raphael’s parents would never approve of a Delaunay, right? So, you better prepare, since they have arranged our engagement. They’ve wanted this for years.]

The air in the room seemed to vanish.

I reread the message, disbelief twisting into something sharp and bitter in my chest. My classmate who had pretended to be nothing more than an amused onlooker, watching my love story unfold like a passing drama.

Only then did I realize—she had been part of the script all along.

My hands trembled. I knew Colette and Raphael had known each other since childhood, had attended the same prestigious schools, and had walked the same privileged paths.

Unlike me, the stranger who had barged into his world uninvited, she had always been there.

Yet, I had never imagined the betrayal would be this close.

A horrible thought struck me. "Could it be that she was there too?"

My voice came out in a whisper, my mind racing back to the cruel laughter of Raphael’s friends, the way they had mocked me, discussed my body as if I were nothing more than a scandal to be exploited.

Before I could process it, my phone buzzed again.

The words sliced through me like a blade, cold and merciless.

[You didn't really think you were special, did you? Raphael and I have known each other since childhood. Our parents already decided our future. You were nothing more than a doll, something Raphael used to bring down your family for his own gain.]

A hollow laugh escaped me, void of humor and emotion.

I had been a fool.

To think Colette was just another student. To think she was just a friend in Raphael’s circle.

It turned out, she was part of everything, even Raphael’s plan.

My chest ached, and for a fleeting moment, I felt the sting of tears burning behind my eyes. But I refused to let them fall.

Raphael had already stolen enough from me—my trust, my first love, my dignity. But they would not take my pride.

With newfound resolve, I zipped up my bag, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of the room.

As I walked past the room, the door suddenly swung open.

The sharp click of stiletto heels echoed against the marble floor, sending a chill down my spine.

And then I saw her.

Colette.

My intuition had been right all along. She had been among them—laughing, indulging in the cruel spectacle of my downfall.

With effortless grace, Colette stepped forward, a delicate crystal glass of wine in her hand, her expression a picture of practiced innocence.

She smiled at me, her lips curling with an unreadable amusement, then glided closer, her eyes feigning warmth.

“Nadine,” she sang sweetly, slipping her arm through mine as if we were old friends, as if she had not just stabbed me in the back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Apparently, you were here all along.”

Her voice was a melody of deception, gentle enough to fool the onlookers but sharp enough to make my stomach twist.

I jerked my arm away. “Stop pretending, Colette.”

But she only gripped me tighter, her nails digging into my skin in warning.

I could see the eyes of the other guests lingering on us, watching, curious—why was Colette Birkin, the golden child of the elite, treating me, the outsider, with such familiarity?

They did not know that every touch, every word from Colette was an act.

“What do you want now?” I asked her in a low but piercing tone.

Her smile never wavered as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.

“Are you asking because you’re stupid or pretending to be stupid, Nadine?” she whispered, her tone dripping with venom masked beneath honeyed sweetness. “I told you, our parents are still discussing the engagement. You, an insignificant nobody, should know when to step aside.

A cold fury spread through me. So, I tilted my head slightly, mirroring her closeness, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

If she wanted to play this game, I would give her something to choke on.

“Tell me, Colette,” I whispered, my voice as soft as silk. “Have you ever slept with Raphael?”

Her body tensed, so I continued, “If not, then you’re one level beneath me. Oh wait—let me correct myself. Ten levels beneath, because I doubt Raphael even considers you a friend.”

Colette’s entire demeanor snapped. Her grip on my arm faltered, and for the first time, the composed mask cracked. The rage behind her gaze was raw, burning.

I did not see it coming until it was too late.

Splash.

The rich red wine soaked into my dress, staining the fabric like blood. A gasp rippled through the crowd. Before I could react, Colette shoved me—hard.

The world tilted. My back collided against the cold, unforgiving wall, pain exploding along my spine. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the impact sent a ringing through my ears.

The room fell into stunned silence before the whispers began.

“What do you mean, Nadine?!” Colette’s voice rang out, feigning shock, twisting the narrative in her favor.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the growing audience, her mind already crafting a new scene—one where she was the victim, and I was the villain.

She placed a trembling hand over her chest, her voice dropping into something delicate, almost wounded.

“Why are you showing off your intimate relationship with Raphael? I know we’re friends, but isn’t that something you should keep private?”

Oh, she was good.

I was still catching my breath, still reeling from the force of her shove, when the murmurs spread like wildfire.

“Intimate? Wait… does that mean Nadine just slept with Raphael?”

“No wonder she was missing all night.”

“But isn’t that a bit much? Flaunting it in front of Colette? Poor girl.”

“Colette and Raphael are basically destined for each other. Their families have known each other forever.”

“Did Nadine do it on purpose? To challenge Colette?”

“I mean, I’ve had fun with my boyfriend, but I wouldn’t go around announcing it to the world.”

“Maybe Parisians think differently.”

At that moment, the cold sensation of wine also clinging to my skin sent a sharp shiver through me.

The deep red liquid seeped into my white blouse, darkening the fabric and making it translucent, exposing the lace outline of my black bra beneath.

Gasps and hushed whispers rippled through the crowd as people drew closer, their amusement turning into fascination, their mockery shifting into something more sinister.

"What a scene," someone murmured.

"Does she have no shame?"

"I bet she did it on purpose to seduce Raphael."

I gritted my teeth, the humiliation clawing at me like a beast, but I refused to let it consume me.

I slowly tried to push myself up, ignoring the way my legs trembled, the sharp ache in my back from the impact against the wall.

And then, a sharp, ugly expression flickered across Colette’s face.

For someone who had just staged a spectacle, she did not seem pleased by how it had turned out.

Still, she played her part flawlessly. Large, crocodile tears welled in her eyes as she let her voice break in feigned betrayal.

"Nadine, you know my feelings for Raphael, but why...?"

She sniffled, her delicate hands clenching over her chest as though she were the true victim in this scene.

The murmurs grew louder.

"Poor Colette… how could Nadine do this to her?"

"She was already humiliated, and yet she still flaunts that she had Raphael?"

"Disgusting. So shameless."

Just as I forced myself onto my feet, ready to end this ridiculous performance, a voice cut through the noise like a whip.

“What the hell are you all looking at? Focus on your own damn business!”

The authority in his tone silenced the crowd instantly.

I turned my head just in time to see Raphael, his sharp jaw clenched in fury, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered audience like a predator assessing its prey.

His steps were swift and controlled. Without hesitation, he reached for me, his hands firm yet gentle as he gripped my arms.

“Let me help you.”

Before I could protest, he had already pulled me up, his touch grounding me against the spinning dizziness of my emotions.

Then, in a move that stunned everyone, Raphael peeled off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, shielding my soaked blouse from prying eyes.

The warmth of his body still clung to the fabric, a stark contrast to the icy humiliation I had just endured.

For a brief second, I looked past him—at Colette.

She was not jealous.

No, her expression was something far worse. Satisfaction.

She stepped closer, her voice laced with innocent regret. "Raph, sorry... I only wanted to hold Nadine’s hand and talk to her, but she rejected me, and the wine—accidentally spilled."

Raphael turned to her, his expression darkening like a brewing storm.

"Then can you explain why she fell?" His voice was lethal.

Colette’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

For the first time, she looked small and weak, like a child caught in a lie.

But before she could scramble for another excuse, someone spoke up—one of her loyal supporters, stepping in to defend her.

"From what I heard, Nadine was the one who started it. She boasted about her night with you to Colette. She was shocked, that’s all."

"Yeah, I would have been shocked too."

"She’s so shameless."

The word stung like a slap, whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

I felt Raphael’s grip on me tighten.

Then, his voice, sharp and cold, echoed through the room.

“Who just said that?”

Silence.

“Who dares to call Nadine shameless? Come forward if you have the guts.”

No one moved.

Not a single person met his gaze.

The weight of his fury pressed down on the entire room like a force of nature, making even Colette’s onceadoring followers shrink into the background.

Raphael scoffed, pulling me closer, his arm wrapping protectively around my waist like I was something precious.

“Whatever it is, it’s up to Nadine. I don’t mind either. Why are you all making such a fuss?”

Colette’s lips trembled, but she did not dare speak. She did the only thing she could—crying.

Her silent tears only fueled the sympathy of her supporters, who rushed to console her.

Raphael ignored them entirely. His attention was solely on me, his voice softer, almost coaxing.

“Come to my room. Let’s get you changed.”

But I shook my head, stepping back.

“No need,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m going home.”

“Okay, let me take you home.”

Raphael still behaved as if nothing had changed. He opened the door for me, helped me with my seatbelt, and drove at a steady pace, as if we were not on the verge of destruction.

But I was not in the mood to be coddled.

I turned to him, my voice cold, sharp. "Why are you still being sweet to me even though you're going to marry Colette soon?"

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. His face darkened, jaw clenching as if the question alone was enough to enrage him.

"Who said that?" he demanded. "Is it Colette? Is that why you two were fighting earlier?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Did it look like a fight to you?" I shot back instead of answering his question.

Raphael exhaled sharply, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair, his usual composure slipping. "Listen, whatever you hear, it's not true. I will not engage with Colette, let alone marry her. I only love you, Nadine. I want to be with you forever.

"As for my parents' plan," he continued, "that was just their plan. I never agreed to it. Then…."

I cut him off, my voice colder than ever. "But you were always aware of Colette's unrequited love, right?"

He choked out, his grip on the wheel tightened.

"Then what’s the connection, Nadine? You know enough that I love you. That should be enough, right?"

His voice rose, frustration lacing every word.

It was not our first fight, but it was the first time I felt something break inside me.

I turned to him, my chest tightening with a pain I could no longer ignore. "It’s not enough, never enough.

"The truth is, you don’t really love me. You love me because I’m a Delaunay."

His head snapped toward me, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

"What do you mean? I don’t care who your family is!" he said fiercely. "I would be happier if you weren’t a Delaunay. Our relationship would be smoother if you weren’t tied to that name!"

"Yes, that’s right," I murmured. "You always think of me like that. A nuisance. A problem you need to overcome. A complication that shouldn't exist."

I took a shaky breath before delivering the final blow.

"So just get rid of me, Raphael. From now on, don’t worry about me. Don’t look for me. Just let me go."

And with that, I unbuckled my seatbelt, my fingers reaching for the door handle.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Raphael shouted, his voice laced with panic as he reached for my wrist. The car swerved slightly as he tried to regain control with one hand.

"Stop being unreasonable, Nadine!"

"Let go of me!" I struggled, trying to pull free from his grasp.

The car veered dangerously to the side, tires screeching against the asphalt. My pulse pounded in my ears. Everything was happening too fast.

Before I could even process it, our car crashed.

I felt my body being thrown forward, the world spinning as the windshield exploded into tiny shards.

For a brief moment, there was only weightlessness.

And then, darkness swallowed me whole.

When I regained consciousness, I could feel the ache in my body, a dull, persistent pain radiating from my head down to my limbs.

A thick brace supported my neck, an oxygen mask covered my face, and the weight of an IV tugged at my arm.

But what caught my attention first was the warmth of my hand. Someone was holding it.

I forced my heavy eyelids open, my vision hazy as I turned my head slightly, expecting to see Raphael.

And there he was. Sitting beside my hospital bed, his face bruised but otherwise unharmed, save for a few minor abrasions.

He was relaxed, seated comfortably, a stark contrast to my state.

But, since the anger still coiled in my stomach, with the last of my strength, I pulled my hand away from his grasp.

Raphael's fingers twitched at the sudden loss of contact. His sharp eyes flickered to me, widening with relief as he realized I was awake.

"Nadine..." His voice was breathless, laced with concern. He leaned forward, reaching out instinctively. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

I did not answer. I was too disgusted with his act. By the way he looked at me with such concern.

My silence made him panic. His brows furrowed and he said hurriedly, standing up, "I’ll call the doctor. They need to check you again—make sure there’s no internal injury."

Minutes later, after the examination, they removed my neck brace and oxygen mask. My head was still throbbing, my limbs weak, but aside from the IV in my arm, I was stable.

"You’re lucky," the doctor had said. "It could have been much worse."

Raphael lingered by my bedside, his fingers brushing against my hair in a way that would have once comforted me.

"I’ll take care of the administration first," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Then, to my utter revulsion, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. A silent apology. A feigned regret.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body stiff beneath his touch.

As soon as he left the room, my phone vibrated weakly on the nightstand. Its screen was cracked from the accident, but still functional.

I reached for it with difficulty, my breath hitching as Colette’s name flashed across the notification bar.

As I tapped the message open, a video file stared back at me, the play button almost mocking.

With trembling fingers, I pressed it.

The screen flickered to life, showing dimly lit security footage. At first, I could not understand what I was looking at—until I saw them.

Raphael’s parents.

They were seated in a grand dining hall, conversing with someone just outside the frame.

“…it’s been almost a year now. If she doesn’t leave willingly, we’ll have to force her hand,” Raphael’s father said.

“The Delaunay girl is reckless. One little accident and she’ll be out of Raphael’s life for good. That’s all we need.”

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

I barely noticed the message that followed until it flashed across my screen.

[That’s why, as your best friend, I warned you to leave. Or you’ll be in danger forever.]

Another message came in.

[Besides, Raphael has been using you all along. If you don't believe me, check the notes on his phone. You'll find every plan he's made to slowly destroy you and your family.]

Suddenly, memories of the accident flashed through my mind.

The blinding light that had engulfed us. The deafening screech of tires. The brutal impact that sent me crashing into darkness.

So, with Colette’s message seared into my brain, I realized the truth.

That was not just an accident. It was orchestrated.

How cruel could the Moreau family be, that they were willing to kill their own son in the process?

Suddenly, the door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts. Raphael stepped in, his face etched with worry. His eyes softened the moment they landed on me, but I no longer saw him the same way.

Wordlessly, I reached for my phone, my fingers still trembling as I handed it to him.

His brows furrowed as he played the video. The color drained from his face.

"This…" His voice wavered. His grip on my phone tightened. "I… I had no idea."

I scoffed, turning my gaze away.

Raphael inhaled sharply. "Nadine, before the accident… I swear, I managed to swerve left to avoid the truck. But because of that, we hit the road divider. If I hadn’t turned in time, who knows what would've happened."

His words echoed in my ears, and the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.

The truck never intended to hit Raphael.

If he had swerved right instead of left, the truck would have struck—ensuring my complete destruction.

But because he turned left… the truck deliberately avoided him.

It was never about us both dying. It was about me.

My breath hitched as the weight of the betrayal pressed against my chest.

"Raphael, I can't do this anymore," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My hand reached for the IV in my arm, ready to rip it out.

His eyes widened in alarm. "No, no, clear your mind first, Nadine. Please." He grabbed my wrist, his touch desperate. "I had no idea at all. You have to believe me."

"Believe you?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Even if you didn't know, this is your family, Raphael. And I will never be safe with you."

His grip tightened. "Don’t do this, okay? If you pull that out, it’ll hurt. You can’t stand pain, right?"

I flinched.

He was right. Even the smallest cut made me cry. My pain tolerance was embarrassingly low.

But no physical pain could compare to what I felt inside.

Raphael exhaled, softening his tone. "I'll call the nurse. Let’s have them remove it properly, and then I’ll take you home, alright? I’ll talk to my parents again. You don’t have to worry about anything."

I said nothing.

Once I was discharged, we sat in the backseat of the car as his driver took us away from the hospital. Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

And then, Raphael casually asked, breaking the silence, "Would you accompany me to the Moreau Group Anniversary banquet next week?"

I remained silent, my gaze fixed outside the window, seething at how effortlessly he had orchestrated everything—down to inviting me to witness my own ruin without a shred of shame.

Mistaking my silence for lingering resentment over the ‘accident,’ he reached for my hand, his voice laced with sincerity. "I want to introduce you properly. Besides, that night marks my official announcement as the heir.

"I promise, they won’t lay a finger on you again. Not even a touch. This is our moment, Nadine. We’ll show everyone how serious we are, okay?"

With slow precision, I pulled away.

My voice was void of emotion as I finally replied, "Fine. But can I borrow your phone for a moment? I need to call my roommate that I’m heading back to the apartment."

Relief flickered across Raphael’s face at my seemingly placated demeanor. Without a hint of suspicion, he handed me his phone.

"Sure," he said easily. "Get some rest at your apartment. I’ll come pick you up in a week."

But what he did not know, I had no intention of staying by his side.

If this was to be the last time we were seen as a couple, a week later I would be gone.

I would make sure he suffered when I left. Before that, I needed to uncover the truth for myself—prove whether Colette’s words held any weight.

I would dig into the secrets Raphael tried to bury and let him see just how deep the betrayal ran.

I clenched my jaw and demanded, "Password."

He did not hesitate. "Our anniversary," he said softly.

Something in my chest trembled. How could he still dare to use that number!

Right, the man who sat beside me, pretending to be sweet and romantic.

But he was the same man who had secretly recorded our intimate moments. The same man who had intended to use those videos to destroy my family.

He was not someone who loved me. This was just another one of his tricks.

True to Colette’s words, I could find the video and the notes.

[How to Bring Down the Delaunay Family:

1. Make Nadine fall for me.

2. Uncover her weaknesses and exploit her.

3. Record an intimate video and leak it. (Damn, she’s still a virgin!)

4. Have thugs violate her, then discard her after that.

5. Farewell, Delaunay family. The Moreau dynasty begins.]

I clenched the phone in a vice grip, my hatred simmering beneath the surface. Every word on that screen confirmed the depth of his deception.

The carefully orchestrated betrayal, the next steps in his twisted plan—it all pointed to one conclusion. Once the intimate video was taken, the violation by thugs would come for me next.

No wonder he was so pleased to see me return to my apartment.

As soon as our car pulled up, I flung the phone back into his hand without a word. No gratitude, no parting glance—just cold indifference as I stepped out and strode toward the apartment building.

Behind me, Raphael's voice rang out, smug and victorious. "I can't wait to see you in a week, my love!"

I did not stop walking, but a smirk tugged at my lips.

"Yes, just wait for your downfall, Raphael."

As expected, the thugs came for me five days later, but I was more than prepared.

I had always known Victor kept a watchful eye on me. Anticipating Raphael’s next move, I reached out to him before returning to Paris, requesting protection.

He agreed instantly, delighted that I was finally allowing him to spoil me again.

When the thugs arrived, they never even got the chance to lay a hand on me. Instead, they were swiftly subdued, their fear making them easy to break.

Under pressure, they confessed everything—their orders, Raphael’s involvement, every disgusting detail.

And just like that, the trap was set. The hunters had become the hunted. That time, it was my turn to play the game.

Two days later, as I arrived at the banquet with Raphael, instead of a warm welcome, I was met with sneers and condescending glances.

"Why did our rival's daughter come to such an important event?" Raphael's mother scoffed, looking me up and down with barely concealed disdain.

Raphael’s grip on my hand tightened. "Mom, I told you to be nice to my girlfriend."

She simply snorted, turning away as if I were nothing more than an unpleasant stain on the evening.

His father remained silent, but the cold, measuring look he gave me was enough to tell me what he thought. I was unwelcome.

But I did not care, since I disliked them too.

Before Raphael could say anything else, the mood shifted.

Colette arrived with her parents, and suddenly, the ice in Raphael’s mother’s eyes melted into warmth.

Her lips stretched into an eager smile, and without hesitation, she pulled Raphael’s hand away from mine.

"My daughterinlaw has arrived," she cooed, leading him toward Colette. "Let’s go greet her properly."

"Mom, wait…."

I did not let him finish. I refused to stand there like a fool, clinging onto someone whose own family was parading another woman in front of him.

"I'm going to get some lemonade," I said flatly, slipping my hand from his grasp before walking away.

Raphael hesitated, looking torn, but in the end, he let go and followed his parents toward Colette.

I inhaled sharply, keeping my head high. I despised being underestimated, being dismissed so easily.

If they thought I was weak, they were wrong. I would show them that I was perfectly fine without Raphael by my side.

From a distance, I observed the scene unfolding. Raphael’s parents strategically positioned him and Colette together, ensuring that no one missed the pictureperfect image of them side by side.

Colette, always one to seize an opportunity, played her part flawlessly. Her fingers trailed teasingly along Raphael’s sleeve, her eyes shimmering with a coy glint.

"Raphael, praise me, our parents are watching," Colette whispered, leaning in ever so slightly.

Raphael exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before reluctantly giving in to the act. His arm snaked around Colette’s waist, pulling her closer. "You're so beautiful tonight, sweetheart."

Colette’s lips curled in satisfaction. She did not even bother hiding her triumph as she deliberately glanced in my direction, her eyes gleaming with silent mockery.

Then, as if to drive the dagger deeper, she moved in closer, her body pressing against his as she rubbed against him in an almost indecent manner.

Raphael stiffened slightly, clearly uncomfortable, but before he could step back, Colette went on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, honey," she purred, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Whispers rippled through the room.

Guests murmured about how radiant they looked together, how perfectly matched they seemed.

Raphael’s parents beamed with pride, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction at how smoothly their plan was falling into place.

But no one except me seemed to notice Raphael’s scold as he leaned into Colette’s ear. “You’ve crossed the line, Colette.”

So, I just chuckled in satisfaction.

To any outsider, it would have seemed like an intimate exchange, a clandestine confession between lovers. But I saw it for what it was—a warning veiled in pretense.

Colette’s confident smirk wavered for just a moment, her mask of seduction slipping, but she recovered quickly. Her fatherinlaw’s voice cut through the moment, calling for her attention.

“Sorry to interrupt your little moment, lovebirds,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “But tonight is Raphael’s introduction to the business world. You’ll have to restrain yourselves.”

Colette’s expression shifted instantly, the practiced charm returning.

“No problem at all,” she purred. “I was just about to greet some of my friends anyway.”

Then, her gaze landed on Raphael. “Find me when you’re done, honey.”

Raphael did not reply. He merely followed his father, leaving Colette to turn her eyes toward me with a sharp, knowing glint. A storm was brewing behind her gaze.

I tried to slip away, already anticipating what was coming, but she strolled toward me, a glass of wine in hand, acting as if I were invisible.

Before I could react, she was suddenly in front of me, feigning surprise. And in the next moment—chaos erupted.

Colette stumbled back dramatically, the glass slipping from her hand and the glass shards hit her leg. Red wine splattered across my white dress, an ugly stain spreading like a wound.

And then she cried out.

“Blood!” Her voice rang across the room, loud enough to turn every head toward us.

I barely had time to process what had happened before Raphael appeared, his face clouded with concern.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Before I could speak, Colette’s voice trembled as she clung to his arm.

“It’s my fault,” she sniffled, the perfect picture of innocence. “I accidentally bumped into Nadine. Ah… my foot, it hurts so much.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Eyes turned to Raphael, waiting for him to act, to be the gentleman they all expected him to be. And he did not disappoint them.

Without hesitation, Raphael bent down and scooped Colette into his arms.

The crowd sighed in approval, as if they were watching a romantic drama unfold before their very eyes.

He barely spared me a glance, but when he passed, he whispered, “Wait for me here. I’ll be back soon.”

Then he was gone, disappearing through the doors with Colette in his arms.

I stood there, frozen, as laughter and chatter resumed around me, as if I were nothing but an insignificant extra in their grand affair.

They might have thought I was foolish for agreeing to come, but the real fools were them—they had no idea what my true intentions were.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Without hesitation, I turned away from the glittering ballroom and stepped onto the balcony.

As Raphael drove her to the hospital, Colette glanced at him and murmured, “Sorry for bothering you. Nadine must be jealous seeing this.”

“It’s fine. Leaving you there would’ve been worse,” Raphael replied coolly. “I can explain it to Nadine later. Besides, it’s just acting, remember?” His voice carried a warning edge.

Suddenly, Colette clutched Raphael’s upper thigh, wincing. “Argh… it hurts so much.”

Raphael instinctively reached for her hand, trying to pry it away. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

“Raphael… pull over,” Colette gasped, covering her mouth. “I drank earlier, and with you speeding, I feel like throwing up.”

Sighing, Raphael finally pulled over. The road was deserted, quiet beneath the dim glow of streetlights.

But the moment the car stopped, Colette did not step out. Instead, she climbed onto Raphael’s lap.

“Colette, what the hell are you doing?” he growled, his hands gripping the wheel.

She smirked, leaning in. “What do you think I’m doing?” Her voice dripped with provocation.

She had felt the way his body reacted, and knew he would not be able to resist much longer. A slow grind of her hips was all it took for him to stiffen beneath her.

“Stop…” Raphael’s protest was silenced by Colette’s kiss, deep and deliberate. Before he could regain control, she guided his hand to her chest, pressing against him.

Breaking the kiss, she whispered against his ear, “Raphael, I want you. Just for tonight. And I promise—after this, I’ll tell our parents to cancel our engagement.”

Then, with a teasing bite to his ear, she left a faint hickey on his neck.

Raphael exhaled sharply, his restraint hanging by a thread. The promise she dangled before him, the way she fit against him—it was all too much.

Smirking, he met her gaze. “You better keep your promise, Colette.”

And just like that, the night spiraled into an unstoppable, heated frenzy inside the car.

As I stepped onto the balcony, I found myself cornered instead.

A familiar group of men strutted in, their tailored suits and smug grins radiating entitlement.

Raphael’s socalled friends—men who once laughed as they dissected my most intimate moments with him like it was some latenight gossip.

“Well, well, look who decided to sulk in the shadows,” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Heartbroken already, Nadine?” another chimed in, swirling his glass of whiskey as if he were making a toast to my misery.

“Did you really think spending a night with Raphael would change anything?” a third one chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re in London. Colette’s the queen, and you’re just… the entertainment.”

Laughter rippled through them, their words sharp as knives, each one slicing deeper.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, but I refused to let them see me falter. I had already made up my mind—I would leave. Soon, none of this would matter.

So, I stood there, silent, enduring their mockery, because in the grand scheme of things, their words meant nothing. As long as they did not cross the line, they were not worth my breath.

Then, as if summoned by fate, Raphael’s presence cut through the suffocating air. His arrival silenced the jeering, but the relief that should have come with it never did.

Because my eyes landed on the crimson stain on his collar.

A perfect imprint of Colette’s red lipstick.

A bitter chuckle rose in my throat. So, they were not heading to the hospital but sneaking off to a bedroom for a quick tryst?

Raphael really just made his own downfall effortless for me.

But still, he acted as if he was my hero. "Leave. I want to be alone with Nadine," Raphael ordered, his voice low, almost dangerous.

His friends clicked their tongues in disappointment. "Tch, no fun," one muttered as they slinked away, leaving behind only the scent of expensive cologne and lingering malice.

Raphael turned to me, his gaze briefly softening as he took in the stain on my dress. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Feels like déjà vu, doesn’t it? Another ruined dress, another night where I’m the fool in this story. Just like the night of the accident a week ago. And the culprit….”

Before I could even finish, he cut me off. "Colette didn’t mean it. She was hurt too. Let’s not prolong this."

His words struck something deep inside me, something raw and fragile.

Oh. So that was how it was then. He had already made his choice, hadn’t he?

Colette’s warmth was enough to justify leaving me in the cold.

I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat and forced my expression into something unreadable. "Fine. Since I waited for you like promised, now I’m going home."

Raphael straightened, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Stay, please. You wouldn’t want to miss my speech after I’m announced as the next Moreau successor, would you?”

“In this dress?” I arched a brow, my voice laced with quiet defiance.

“That’s right,” he said smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Then I’ll take you to a boutique nearby. Let’s get you something exquisite.”

“No need,” I said flatly, already stepping away.

“I insist,” he pressed, and before I could protest, his hand encircled my wrist. His grip was firm, not rough, but firm enough to tell me that arguing would be pointless.

With a sigh, I allowed myself to be guided to his car.

But as soon as I slid into the passenger seat, a scent invaded my senses. Not his usual clean, woodsy cologne.

No, this was something else. Something sour, cloying—a mix of perfume and sweat. The unmistakable smell of a heated night.

And the moment he leaned in to buckle my seatbelt, something caught my eye—faint at first, then unmistakable. A dark, bruised mark peeking out from his collar.

“Who gave you that hickey?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists on my lap.

“What hickey?” He feigned confusion, glancing into the mirror.

For the briefest second, I caught the flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it with nonchalance.

“Oh, that? Must’ve been an insect bite. Got it at the hospital.” He even had the audacity to chuckle. “Didn’t realize it was that bad.”

I let out a slow exhale, my fingers trembling slightly. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

Raphael sighed, gripping the wheel. “Nadine, you’re overthinking again.”

"Overthinking?" My voice was sharper now, laced with frustration and hurt. "You always say that. Every time. But can you explain your closeness with Colette at the event earlier?"

Raphael exhaled, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Nadine, that was just acting to show to our parents."

I scoffed, my fingers tightening into fists on my lap. "Acting? But you promised to introduce our relationship more deeply to the public, didn't you?

“Instead, you made it seem like you and Colette were closer than ever. Your friends teased me because of that—don’t you know?" My voice wavered despite my efforts to stay strong.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t think that far," he admitted, his expression unreadable. "But I told Colette to just act as is. Her kiss… that wasn’t part of the plan."

A bitter chuckle escaped me.

"Oh, yeah. And I suppose the hickeys and lipstick marks weren’t part of the plan either?" I sneered, my tone was sharp.

Raphael frowned and quickly checked the mirror again. His jaw tightened as he spotted the lipstick stain on his collar.

"This is normal, right?" he said, brushing at it as if that would make the evidence disappear. "I was carrying her earlier. Maybe it accidentally got on me."

Keep making excuses, Raphael. I knew better. The smell in this car, the heat of his skin, the unmistakable proof of what had happened before he came to me.

I turned my face away, staring out the window. What was the point of arguing when he would only twist the truth?

Raphael sighed heavily, then, as if trying to prove himself, he pulled out his phone and handed it to me.

"Here," he said. "Check it yourself. The only girl I chat with is you. All my other contacts are just guys."

I was shocked at first, he really made it easy for me to take revenge on him.

But I forced my expression to remain neutral. If I showed even a hint of what I was thinking, he might get suspicious.

"Okay," I said coolly, my voice void of emotion. "I'll check it. You just focus on driving, I don’t want to get into another accident."

“Don’t worry.” Then, Raphael sighed, relieved. Maybe, to him, the first problem had been solved.

Poor fool. He had no idea that he was the one who had just lost.

While he focused on driving, I took advantage of the moment. My fingers moved swiftly, deleting the videos and any trace of me on his phone.

I had spent nights making sure that no hidden cameras or CCTV had captured that moment. His phone was the only device that held the evidence.

Raphael was no tech genius—he would not have backed it up somewhere else.

He thought a single video was enough to ruin me.

Then I would show him just how much damage a single piece of evidence could do to him.

The moment we arrived at our destination and stepped into the boutique, an idea took shape in my mind.

As Raphael browsed through the selections, I sank onto a plush seat, pressing a hand to my stomach with a slight grimace.

"Raphael," I muttered, my voice laced with irritation. "I think my period just started. Can you grab me some sanitary napkins?" I sighed dramatically.

Raphael hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright. There's a convenience store nearby. Wait here and pick out a dress you like, okay?"

I offered him a small, weary smile, watching as he turned and walked away—exactly as I had planned.

The moment he stepped out, I moved fast.

I reached for the car’s dash cam first. My fingers hovered over the screen, and there it was, the footage.

The camera had faced the road ahead, but the sounds… they told the entire story.

“You better keep your promise, Colette,” Raphael murmured, his voice thick with desire.

The car was soon filled with the sounds of feverish kisses, their mouths colliding as they greedily exchanged breath and warmth.

Hands fumbled, clothes slipped away, and when the sharp sound of a zipper being undone echoed in the silence, it was quickly followed by Colette’s breathy moan.

“Raphael… gentle, please,” she pleaded.

Raphael let out a low, guttural groan. “It’s too late for that, Colette. You’re the one who made me lose control.”

Shaking, I pulled out the car footage’s SIM card and took it with me before leaving his phone abandoned on the seat and stepped out of the car, walked to the street to hail a taxi.

As I entered the taxi, I cursed Raphael in my heart. ‘I know it. Since then, the woman you truly wanted was never me, it was Colette. So, enjoy my revenge, you shameless man!’

I took out my phone and sent him a message.

[I'll head back to the banquet first. I want to surprise you with my dress choice at your heir announcement.]

Then I blocked his number.

I tossed my old, cracked phone into a trash bin as I walked through the dimly lit airport.

It had survived too many falls, too many painful memories, and that time, I was leaving it behind—just like I was leaving him.

I pulled my coat tighter around me as I reached the private plane Victor had arranged.

Paris awaited. And this time, I was not running away.

I was starting over...