I Paid For His Medical Degree, But He Married My Best Friend

"I'm sorry, Ali," Reese said. "The hospital board postponed my surgical fellowship again. I still have months of internship rotations to finish. After that, I will marry you." I closed my eyes and leaned against the peeling wallpaper of my tiny apartment. My feet ached from a fourteen-hour shift at the diner. We had been doing this long-distance routine for six years. I was so tired. "But it's been six years, Reese," I pleaded. I gripped my phone tightly. "Can I just visit you? I miss you so much. We haven't seen each other in forever. You never visited me." "I'm too busy right now. The attending surgeons are breathing down my neck. I will just come to you next month. I promise." "Reese, please—" The line went dead. He hung up on me. I stared at the darkened screen of my phone. A cold knot formed in my stomach. Something felt terribly wrong. He always had an excuse. He always needed more time. I walked over to my cramped desk and opened my laptop. I started checking his London medical university's research portal. I typed his name into the database. A single surgical research paper popped up on the screen. I clicked the link. My heart stopped beating. The publication date was four years ago. He had finished his research four years ago. He had earned his degree. Why was he still asking me for tuition money? My hands shook as I scrolled down to the acknowledgments section. The words on the screen blurred together. "Thank you to my lover, Chloe, for standing by my side through the hardest years of medical school. I could not have survived this without you." Chloe. My breath hitched in my throat. Was it the same Chloe? My childhood best friend had vanished six years ago. She claimed she was moving abroad to study and then completely cut off all contact with me. I had spent years worrying about her. No. It had to be a coincidence. I pushed away from the desk. Reese loved me. He would never do this to me. Someone must have stolen his identity to publish that paper. Or maybe he was in some kind of terrible trouble. What if he was being forced to hide his real life to protect me? The medical field was notoriously competitive and cutthroat. Maybe someone was blackmailing him. I paced the length of my small bedroom. I could not just sit here and wait another month. I grabbed my purse and logged into my bank account on my phone. I stared at the meager balance. It was every single penny I had saved from working endless double shifts. It was the money I was supposed to send him next week for his final tuition payment. Without a second thought, I transferred it all to my checking account. I packed a small duffel bag and bought a train ticket to London. I would show up at his student apartment where I had been sending his care packages for years. We would sit down, and we would figure this out together. The train ride felt like an eternity. I stared out the window at the passing countryside. I rehearsed what I would say a hundred times. It would all be a massive misunderstanding. The London sky broke open the moment I stepped out of the station. Freezing rain soaked through my thin coat in seconds. I shivered as I walked down the street. I finally reached the address he had given me years ago. It was a rundown brick building with peeling paint and cracked windows. My heart ached for him. He had been living in this squalor for years while I complained about my own cramped apartment. I pushed open the heavy front door. The hallway smelled of damp carpet and old dust. I found apartment 4B and knocked. No answer. I knocked harder. "Reese? It's Alicia." The door across the hall creaked open. A grumpy landlord in a faded sweater peered out at me. He frowned deeply. "Stop that racket," the landlord grumbled. "There is no one in there." "I am looking for Reese Castillo," I said. I offered a polite but desperate smile. "He lives in 4B. I am his girlfriend." The landlord let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Girlfriend? Honey, nobody has lived in 4B for a long time. I use it for storage." My smile faltered. "That is impossible. I send packages here every month. He lives here." "I have owned this building for ten years," the landlord said. "Reese Castillo moved out four years ago. Right after he got his medical degree." The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "But my packages," I whispered. "I just sent one last week. Someone is receiving them." The landlord sighed and pointed a crooked finger toward the front entrance. "A private courier comes every Friday afternoon. He collects whatever gets dumped at that door. He speaks to no one. He just grabs the boxes and leaves." I checked my watch. It was Friday. As if on cue, the heavy front door swung open. A man in a sleek waterproof uniform stepped into the hallway. He bent down and picked up the small brown box sitting on the floor mat. It was the care package I had mailed on Monday. "Excuse me," I said. "Where are you taking that?" "I am not at liberty to say, miss. Client confidentiality." He tried to step around me. I reached into my wet purse and pulled out my wallet. I took out the last fifty pounds I had to my name. It was my food money for the week. I held it out to him. "Please," I begged. Tears finally mixed with the rain on my cheeks. "That box is from me. The man you are delivering it to is my boyfriend. I just need to know where he is. Please." The courier looked at the money. He looked at my desperate face. He hesitated for a long moment before snatching the bills from my hand. He pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled an address on the back of a delivery slip. He handed the slip to me and walked out into the rain without a word.

The slip of paper felt incredibly heavy in my hand. I followed the courier's scribbled directions through the winding streets of London. Slowly, the neighborhood changed. The grime and noise of the city faded away. It was replaced by pristine sidewalks, manicured hedges, and tall wrought-iron gates. I was in Mayfair. It was one of the most exclusive and expensive neighborhoods in the entire city. I stood across the street from the address the courier had given me. It was a massive, ultra-luxury townhouse. The white stone facade gleamed even in the gloomy weather. Tall windows glowed with warm light from inside. I stood on the pavement like a ghost. The freezing rain soaked through my thin coat and plastered my hair to my face. I shivered uncontrollably, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the ice forming in my chest. A sleek black Bentley pulled up to the driveway. My breath hitched. I stepped back into the shadow of a large oak tree. The driver's side door opened. A man stepped out into the rain. It was Reese. But it was not the Reese I knew. He was not wearing the cheap, frayed sweaters I had bought for him. He was dressed in a bespoke designer suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. A heavy luxury watch glinted on his wrist as he adjusted his cuffs. He looked incredibly wealthy. He looked powerful and confident. He did not look like a struggling medical intern who needed my diner tips to survive. He walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger door. A woman stepped out. It was Chloe. My childhood best friend. The heavy front door of the townhouse swung open. A little boy ran out onto the covered porch. He looked about four years old. He had Reese's dark hair and Chloe's bright, expressive eyes. "Daddy!" the boy squealed. Reese laughed. He scooped the boy into his arms and kissed his cheek. Then he leaned over and kissed Chloe passionately on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking like the picture-perfect wife. An older woman walked past them on the sidewalk, holding a large umbrella. "Happy fifth anniversary, you two!" the neighbor called out cheerfully. "Thank you, Margaret!" Chloe replied with a bright, ringing laugh. My world completely shattered. Five years. They had been married for five years. They had a four-year-old child. All while I was working double shifts to pay for his fake tuition. All while I was sleeping in a freezing apartment, dreaming of the day we would finally be together. Every phone call, every text message, every excuse was a calculated lie. I stumbled backward. My chest heaved violently. A violent panic attack seized my body. The ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. I turned and ran. I stumbled blindly down the wet pavement. I was hyperventilating and sobbing uncontrollably. My vision blurred with hot tears and freezing rain. I needed to get out of the cold. I needed to hide before I collapsed on the street. I stopped at a small street cart on the corner and shoved a crumpled bill at the vendor. I grabbed a cup of scalding black coffee just to thaw my freezing, numb fingers. I clutched the paper cup to my chest and kept walking. I saw a set of grand glass doors up ahead. I did not care what the building was. I just needed shelter. I pushed through the heavy revolving doors into the lobby of a luxury hotel. The air inside was warm and smelled of expensive cedar and citrus. I kept my head down. I was crying too hard to see straight. I just wanted to find a quiet corner to fall apart. I took three hurried steps into the lobby. I was not looking where I was going. I crashed hard into a wall of solid muscle. The impact knocked the breath out of me. The lid of my paper cup popped off. Scalding hot coffee splashed everywhere. I gasped and looked up. The dark coffee dripped down the front of his custom-tailored white suit. It was completely ruined. Strong hands grabbed my arms instantly. Two massive security guards materialized out of nowhere. "Hey! Watch where you are going," one guard barked. "Get her out of here immediately." They yanked me backward. My purse slipped from my shoulder and hit the marble floor. The contents spilled everywhere. My keys, my cheap wallet, and a crumpled photograph scattered across the polished stone. It was a picture of Reese and me from eight years ago. We were smiling and holding hands. I was crying too hard to speak. I struggled weakly against the guards. "Stop," a deep, commanding voice echoed through the lobby. The guards froze. They instantly released my arms and stepped back. I looked up at the man I had just spilled coffee on. He was breathtakingly handsome, with a sharp jawline and piercing, ice-cold eyes. He did not even glance at his ruined suit. His intense gaze was fixed on the marble floor. He was looking at the crumpled photograph of Reese. "Bring her to my penthouse," he ordered his guards. "She and I have a mutual problem."

The man poured a glass of amber liquid and handed it to me. I took it with trembling fingers. "Drink," he commanded softly. I took a sip. The alcohol burned down my throat. It grounded me just enough to stop my teeth from chattering. "Who are you?" I whispered. "My name is Johansen Silva," he said. He walked over to a sleek glass desk and picked up the crumpled photograph I had dropped in the lobby. "I own this hotel. I own a great many things in this city. But more importantly, I know exactly who the man in this picture is." I swallowed hard. "You know Reese?" "I know him intimately," Johansen replied. His voice dropped to a dangerous, freezing register. "I have been investigating him obsessively for the past four months." "Why?" I asked. My voice cracked. Johansen turned to face me. The mask of the untouchable billionaire slipped away. I saw a raw, agonizing grief in his piercing eyes. It was a pain that perfectly mirrored my own. "Because four months ago, the love of my life was murdered," Johansen said. I gasped. "Murdered?" Johansen stepped closer. His jaw tightened with suppressed rage. "My fiancée was crossing the street. A car ran a red light and struck her. It was a brutal hit-and-run. She was rushed to the nearest private hospital. She was clinging to life. She could have survived. She just needed emergency surgery." He paused. He looked down at the photograph of Reese. "Reese Castillo was the attending surgeon on call that night," Johansen continued. His voice was laced with pure venom. "He took her into the operating room. But he did not try to save her. He deliberately botched the operation. He let her bleed out on the table." "No," I whispered. I shook my head frantically. "No, Reese is a doctor. He saves people. He would never do that." "He did it to protect his wife," Johansen snapped. "My private investigators finally tracked down the driver of the car that hit my fiancée. It was Chloe. She was drunk. She panicked and called her husband. Reese knew that if my fiancée woke up, she would identify Chloe's license plate. So he made sure she never woke up." I backed away. My mind could not process the horror of his words. "They covered their tracks perfectly," Johansen said. "Reese altered the medical charts. He blamed a fatal medication error on an innocent paramedic. That paramedic is sitting in a prison cell right now. Reese and Chloe walked away completely free." The room spun. My childhood best friend was a killer. The man I loved was an accomplice to murder. "I brought you up here to make a deal," Johansen said. He held out his hand. "I need someone on the inside. I need someone who knows his past. Help me destroy them. I will give you the power to take everything they have." I stared at his extended hand. My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Eight years. I had loved Reese for eight years. We had shared our deepest secrets. We had planned our entire future together. I could not just erase that because a stranger told me a horrifying story. I needed to hear it from him. I needed to hear his side. "No," I said. I stepped back. "I cannot do this. I cannot betray him. Not without talking to him first. There has to be an explanation." Johansen dropped his hand. His eyes turned cold again. "You are a fool. But go ahead. Call him." My hands shook violently as I pulled my phone from my wet purse. I dialed Reese's number. The phone rang three times. "What is it, Ali?" Reese answered. His tone was sharp and deeply annoyed. "I told you I am busy." "I am in London," I choked out. The line went dead silent. "What did you just say?" Reese asked. His voice dropped to a frantic whisper. "I am in London," I repeated. Tears spilled down my cheeks. "I went to your old apartment. Then I went to Mayfair. I saw you, Reese. I saw you with Chloe. I saw the little boy." I waited for the apology. I waited for him to break down and beg for my forgiveness. I waited for him to explain the terrible things Johansen had just told me. Instead, Reese exploded. "Are you out of your mind?" Reese hissed. His voice was filled with a vicious, ugly rage I had never heard before. "You followed me? You are stalking me now? How dare you show up here and ruin my life!" "Ruin your life?" I sobbed. "You lied to me for six years! You took my money!" "You gave me that money!" he shouted back. "I never forced you! You are pathetic, Alicia. You always have been. You cling to me because you have absolutely nothing else." I stopped breathing. The cruel words felt like a physical blow to my stomach. Then, I heard a second voice on the line. It was a woman's voice in the background. It was clear and unmistakable. "Is it my bitch best friend?" Chloe sneered. I froze. "Come on, Reese," Chloe continued lazily. "I told you to end everything with her. You don't need her. You just pity her." "Chloe, stop," Reese muttered. "Why should I stop?" Chloe laughed. It was a cold, heartless sound. "If she causes any trouble, we can just throw her in the sea. No one would even look for her. She is an orphan." The line went dead. I slowly lowered the phone from my ear. The tears on my face stopped falling. The desperate, heartbroken girl inside of me died in that exact second. My chest hollowed out. The warmth of my love was instantly replaced by a freezing, absolute hatred. I let my phone drop to the floor. It shattered against the marble tiles. I turned back to the billionaire. I looked directly into his ice-cold eyes. "What do you need me to do?" I asked.

"I need you to marry me," Johansen said. I blinked. "Marry you?" "Reese and Chloe are dangerous," Johansen explained. His tone was dead serious. "They have already proven they are willing to kill to protect their secrets. If you walk out of this hotel as Alicia, the orphaned diner waitress, they will crush you. They will throw you in the sea, just like Chloe said. But if you walk out of here as my wife, you become untouchable." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thick, legal document. He set it on the glass surface between us. "This is a marriage contract," Johansen said. "It gives you my name. It gives you my legal protection. It gives you unrestricted access to my wealth. As my wife, you will have the ultimate power to execute our revenge. They took the person I loved. They stole eight years of your life. We will take everything they have." I looked down at the contract. I did not hesitate. I did not read the fine print. I picked up the heavy gold pen resting on the desk. I signed my name on the dotted line. The naive, devoted girl who worked double shifts to pay for a liar's tuition died in that penthouse. A new woman was born from her ashes. The weekend was a fast-paced blur of transformation. His team of stylists stripped away my cheap, rain-soaked clothes. They dressed me in stunning, high-end designer fashion. I stepped into a tailored emerald-green suit that fit me perfectly. I slipped on black stilettos that clicked against the floor like loaded weapons. My hair was styled into sleek, polished waves. I looked in the mirror and did not recognize the powerful, intimidating woman staring back at me. On Sunday night, Johansen met me in the penthouse dining room. He handed me a sleek leather folder. "Happy wedding day," Johansen said. A dark, predatory smile touched his lips. I opened the folder. Inside was a stack of official property deeds. "Over the weekend, I quietly purchased the prestigious private hospital where Reese works," Johansen said. "I bought the building, the land, and the operating licenses. As a wedding gift, I transferred the total ownership directly into your name. It is entirely yours, Alicia. You can do whatever you want with it." I stared at the papers. A fierce, triumphant thrill raced through my veins. Monday morning arrived with brilliant sunshine. A sleek black luxury car pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital. The chauffeur opened the door for me. I stepped out onto the pavement. I walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital lobby. Two of Johansen's massive, imposing security guards flanked me. The lobby was bustling with doctors, nurses, and wealthy patients. The pristine white walls gleamed under the bright lights. I scanned the room. I spotted him immediately. Reese was standing near the central reception desk. He was wearing his crisp white doctor's coat. A stethoscope hung casually around his neck. He was laughing and chatting with a group of young nurses. He looked arrogant. He looked like a man who had the entire world in the palm of his hand. I walked straight toward him. The sharp click of my designer heels echoed loudly across the polished marble floor. Reese turned his head at the sound. His eyes landed on me. For a split second, he did not recognize me. Then, the realization hit him. His eyes widened in absolute shock. The charming smile vanished from his face. All the color drained from his cheeks. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. Panic and anger flashed in his eyes. He excused himself from the nurses and stormed over to me. His face flushed a deep, ugly red. "What are you doing here?" Reese hissed aggressively. He kept his voice low, desperately trying to avoid a public scene. "Are you crazy?" I just looked at him. I did not flinch. I did not cry. I felt absolutely nothing for the man standing in front of me. "You need to leave right now," Reese demanded. His panic was escalating. He lunged forward. He reached out to violently push me toward the exit doors before anyone else noticed us. Before his fingers could graze my silk sleeve, one of Johansen's massive security guards stepped directly into his path. The guard raised a hand and shoved Reese hard in the chest. The impact lifted Reese off his feet. He flew backward and crashed violently onto the polished marble floor. A collective gasp echoed through the lobby. The bustling room went dead silent. Every single doctor, nurse, and patient stopped and stared. Humiliated in front of his staring colleagues, Reese scrambled up from the floor. "What is the meaning of this?" Reese shouted at the top of his lungs. He pointed a shaking finger at my guards. "I am a doctor here!" I stepped forward. I looked down at him with a cold, triumphant smile. "Well," I replied smoothly. "I am the owner of this hospital now."

"You own this hospital?" Reese barked out a harsh, echoing laugh. He looked around the crowded lobby as if waiting for an audience to join in on the joke. "Alicia, you have completely lost your mind." I didn't blink. I didn't flinch. I just stared at the man I had loved for six years. I remembered how that exact laugh used to make my heart flutter when we were young. Now, it just made my stomach turn. He looked like a complete stranger. "I am not joking," I said. Reese shook his head. His amusement morphed into a vicious sneer. "You are pathetic. You followed me to London, and now you are trespassing at my workplace. I am an attending surgeon here. You are a diner waitress who can barely afford a train ticket. You do not belong in a place like this." He turned to the reception desk. He slammed his hand flat against the marble counter. "Call security," Reese snapped at the wide-eyed receptionist. "Get this crazy woman out of my hospital before I press charges for harassment. She is unhinged." The receptionist swallowed hard. She didn't reach for the phone. She was looking past Reese. Heavy footsteps echoed across the marble floor. A tall, balding man with a stern face walked briskly toward us. It was Dr. Sterling, the chief hospital administrator. Two of Johansen's massive security guards flanked him like shadows. Reese sighed in relief. "Dr. Sterling. Thank God. This woman is harassing me. Have security remove her immediately." Dr. Sterling stopped. He didn't look at me. He looked directly at Reese with absolute disgust. "Step away from her, Dr. Castillo," Sterling ordered. Reese frowned. "What? She is stalking me." "She is your new boss," Sterling said loudly. His voice carried across the dead-silent lobby. Every nurse, doctor, and patient stopped and watched. "As of this morning, Ms. Dela Vega is the sole owner of this hospital. You will address her with respect, or you will be escorted off the premises." All the color drained from Reese's face. His jaw went slack. He stared at Dr. Sterling, then turned his horrified gaze to me. "That is impossible," Reese whispered. "She has nothing. I know her." "She has everything," Sterling corrected coldly. "And you, Dr. Castillo, are suspended." Reese flinched as if he had been struck. "Suspended? You cannot do that! I am a lead surgeon! I bring in millions for this facility!" "Your attending status is revoked pending a full review of your medical practices," Sterling continued. "Hand over your badge. You are no longer authorized to treat patients here." "Alicia, please," Reese choked out. The arrogance was completely gone. Pure panic replaced it. I stepped closer to him. The hatred in my chest felt like solid ice. "Give him your badge, Reese," I said softly. "Before I have you thrown out like trash." Reese's hands shook violently. He unclipped his ID badge and dropped it onto the reception counter. He turned and practically ran down the hallway toward his private office. --- Reese slammed his office door shut and locked it. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs. He paced the length of the room. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. This was impossible. Alicia was a nobody. She was a naive, desperate girl who sent him her tip money. How could she possibly own a private hospital in London? He had spent years building his perfect life. He had married into wealth. He had secured his position. He could not lose it all to the girl he had discarded. He pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers fumbled over the screen as he dialed his wife's number. Chloe answered on the second ring. "What is it, Reese? I am busy." "Alicia is here," Reese hissed. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of his window. "She bought the hospital, Chloe. She just suspended me in front of the entire staff." Chloe let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Are you drunk? Alicia Dela Vega doesn't have two pennies to rub together. She is a pathetic diner waitress. She used to cry when she couldn't afford her heating bill." "I am telling you the truth!" Reese shouted. "The chief administrator confirmed it. She brought her own security. She has power, Chloe. She is going to ruin us." "Stop whining," Chloe snapped. Her voice dripped with absolute venom. "She is probably sleeping with some old, senile man who bought her a little title to play with. She is nothing. She has always been nothing." "You didn't see her face," Reese whispered. "She looked like she wanted me dead." "Good," Chloe said. "Let her try. I am sick of this little orphan thinking she can interfere with my life. I am coming down there right now." "Chloe, wait—" "I will put that bitch in her place," Chloe interrupted. "I will remind her exactly who she is dealing with." The line went dead. Reese stared at his phone. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. --- I stood in the center of my new executive office. The space was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the busy London streets. I didn't care about the view. I only cared about the destruction of the man who had stolen my life. The door opened. Johansen walked in. He moved with a lethal, quiet grace. His presence commanded the entire room. He stopped beside me and looked out the window. We did not touch. We did not exchange warm smiles. We were bound by vengeance and nothing else. "Reese is suspended," I said. "It is only the beginning," Johansen replied. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "We will strip him of his license. Then we will strip him of his freedom." My desk phone buzzed. I pressed the speaker button. "Ms. Dela Vega," the lobby receptionist said. Her voice trembled slightly. "There is a woman here demanding to see you. She is causing a massive scene. She says her name is Chloe Castillo." My blood ran cold. My former best friend. The woman who had mocked my existence on the phone just days ago. "Send security," I started to say. Johansen reached over and pressed the mute button. His eyes darkened with a violent, terrifying rage. "No," Johansen said. "I will handle Chloe." I looked at him. The raw grief and hatred in his expression were suffocating. This was the woman who had run over his fiancée and left her to die. Johansen turned and walked out of the office. I followed him immediately. We reached the mezzanine balcony overlooking the main lobby. Down below, Chloe was screaming at the receptionist. "Do you know who I am?" Chloe shrieked. She slammed her hand onto the counter. "Call Alicia Dela Vega down here right now! Tell that pathetic little waitress to face me!" Johansen walked down the sweeping marble staircase. Chloe turned around with a sneer on her face. She was ready to tear into whoever was approaching her. Then she saw him. Chloe froze. The angry flush drained from her cheeks in a single second. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stumbled backward until her spine hit the reception desk.

"You." Chloe's voice was a breathless, terrified whisper. Johansen did not blink. He stood at the bottom of the marble staircase like a stone statue. The absolute silence in the lobby was deafening. "Mr. Silva," Chloe choked out. She took another step back. Her spine hit the reception desk with a dull thud. Johansen stepped closer. He invaded her personal space with a lethal, calculated slowness. "Mrs. Castillo. You are causing a disturbance in my wife's hospital." Chloe's eyes darted wildly between Johansen and me. The realization hit her like a physical blow. The color drained completely from her face. She looked like she was going to be sick. "Your wife?" Chloe gasped. I walked down the stairs. I stopped right beside Johansen. He immediately placed a heavy, protective hand on the small of my back. The gesture was a flawless performance. He looked like the ruthless billionaire who would burn the world down for his bride. "Alicia Dela Vega," Chloe whispered. Her eyes were wide with sheer panic. "How did you... how did you meet him?" "That is none of your concern," I said. My voice was ice. "What concerns me is that you are screaming in my lobby." Chloe tried to rally her usual venom. She opened her mouth to snap at me. Then she looked at Johansen's dead, terrifying eyes. Her courage evaporated instantly. "I just came to see my husband," Chloe muttered weakly. "Your husband no longer works here," I replied smoothly. "And you are no longer welcome here." I turned my attention to the two massive security guards standing nearby. "Escort this trespasser out," I ordered. "If she resists, throw her onto the pavement. If she ever returns, call the police." "You cannot do this to me," Chloe hissed. Tears of utter humiliation welled in her eyes. "I am Chloe Castillo!" "You are nothing," I corrected. The guards stepped forward. They grabbed Chloe by the arms. She struggled weakly, but they dragged her toward the sliding glass doors. The entire hospital staff watched in silence as the wealthy, arrogant Chloe Castillo was tossed out of the building like common trash. I watched the doors slide shut. A fierce, triumphant thrill raced through my veins. --- A glass vase shattered against the wall of the Mayfair townhouse. "Are you out of your mind?" Reese screamed. He ducked as a heavy silver picture frame flew past his head. Chloe stood in the center of the living room. Her chest heaved violently. Tears streamed down her face. "You idiot! Do you have any idea who she married?" Reese ran a shaking hand through his hair. "I do not care who she married! She bought the hospital! She suspended me!" "She married Johansen Silva!" Chloe shrieked at the top of her lungs. Reese froze. The anger instantly vanished from his face. A cold, paralyzing dread took its place. "What did you just say?" Reese whispered. "Johansen Silva," Chloe repeated. She collapsed onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. "The billionaire. The man whose fiancée I hit with my car four years ago. The woman you let die on the operating table. Alicia married him." Reese felt the floor tilt beneath his feet. He stumbled backward and hit the edge of a heavy oak table. He gripped the wood to keep himself upright. This was not a coincidence. This was a targeted attack. Johansen Silva knew everything. He was using Alicia to destroy them. "We are going to prison," Chloe sobbed. "He knows. He has to know. Why else would he buy your hospital and marry that pathetic diner waitress?" Reese's mind raced. Panic threatened to consume him entirely. He thought about the cold, dead look in Alicia's eyes earlier that morning. He thought about the sheer power Johansen Silva wielded in London. They were completely trapped. Then, a desperate, arrogant thought pierced through his panic. Alicia. Alicia Dela Vega had loved him for six years. She had worshipped the ground he walked on. She had sacrificed her own meals just to send him money. A love like that did not just disappear overnight. Johansen was clearly using her as a pawn. But Alicia was weak. She was sentimental. "Stop crying," Reese snapped. He stood up straight. Chloe looked up. Her mascara was smeared down her cheeks. "Are you insane? We are ruined!" "We are not ruined," Reese said. A dark, manipulative smile crept onto his face. "Johansen is using her. But Alicia is still the same naive, pathetic girl she always was. She is only doing this because she is hurt. She is lashing out because I broke her heart." Chloe stared at him in disbelief. "She threw me out like trash!" "Because she is jealous of you," Reese insisted. He started pacing the room again. His confidence was rapidly returning. "She wants me. She has always wanted me. If I give her what she wants, she will turn on Johansen. I can control her." "You cannot control her," Chloe argued. "She has his money now." "I had her heart for six years," Reese replied smoothly. "I just need to remind her of that. I will get her back. And when I do, I will make her sign that hospital back over to me." --- I stepped out of the private elevator and into the penthouse. The adrenaline from the morning was still pumping through my blood. I had faced the two people who destroyed my life. I had watched them cower. I had taken their power and crushed it in my bare hands. I felt invincible. "Johansen?" I called out. The penthouse was completely silent. The lights in the main living area were turned off. The only illumination came from a faint glow down the long hallway. I walked toward the light. It was coming from the study. The door was wide open. I stepped into the doorway. A bright, triumphant smile was already forming on my lips. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to talk about the look on Chloe's face when the guards dragged her away. My smile vanished instantly. Johansen was sitting in a heavy leather armchair in the center of the room. He was not looking at me. He was staring straight ahead. A massive, oil-painted portrait hung on the wall above the fireplace. It was a beautiful woman with bright eyes and a gentle smile. She looked full of life. It was his dead fiancée. Johansen held a crystal glass of amber liquor in his hand. He did not take a sip. He just stared at the painting. His face was a mask of absolute, paralyzing grief. The ruthless billionaire who had protected me in the lobby was completely gone. He looked like a hollow shell of a man. "Johansen?" I whispered. He did not move. He did not blink. He completely ignored my presence.

"Do not confuse our public performance with reality, Alicia." Johansen stood by the massive windows of the penthouse dining room. He did not look at me. His voice was completely devoid of emotion. "I saw you looking into the study last night," he continued. "You are a means to an end. We are partners in vengeance. Nothing more. Do not expect a husband when the doors are closed." I poured myself a cup of black coffee. My hand did not shake. I felt absolutely no heartbreak. "I do not want a husband," I replied coldly. "I want Reese Castillo destroyed. You want the same. We understand each other perfectly." Johansen finally turned his head. A faint flicker of respect crossed his icy features. He gave a single, curt nod. The boundary was set in stone. We were two hollow people using each other as weapons. That was exactly how I preferred it. Two hours later, I was sitting at my desk in the hospital executive office. I was reviewing the legal paperwork to permanently revoke Reese's medical license. The heavy oak door suddenly clicked shut. I looked up. Reese stood inside my office. He had bypassed the lobby security by using the private staff stairwell he knew so well. He looked disheveled. His hair was messy. He was breathing heavily. "Get out," I said. I reached for the security button on my desk phone. Reese lunged forward. He did not attack me. Instead, he dropped heavily to his knees right beside my chair. "Alicia, please," Reese begged. His voice cracked. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. "Just give me five minutes. Please. I am begging you." I pulled my hand away from the phone. I stared down at him. The performance was incredible. If I were still the naive diner waitress from a week ago, my heart would have shattered for him. Now, I just felt a deep, sickening disgust. "Speak," I commanded. Reese grabbed the armrest of my chair. He looked up at me with desperate, pleading eyes. "I never wanted to marry her," Reese choked out. "Chloe trapped me, Alicia. Years ago, she got pregnant. I was a broke medical student. I panicked. I thought I had to do the right thing for the baby. I sacrificed my own happiness. I sacrificed us." He let out a broken sob. He buried his face against the edge of my desk. "I have lived in absolute misery for six years," Reese continued. "I thought about you every single day. I only took your money because I was desperate to finish my degree so I could finally leave her and come back to you. I love you, Alicia. I have always loved you." My phone was resting flat on the desk, just inches from his head. I slowly moved my hand. I tapped the screen. I opened the voice memo app. I hit the red record button. "You love me?" I asked softly. I made my voice tremble just enough to sound vulnerable. Reese heard the shift in my tone. He immediately looked up. Hope flashed in his deceitful eyes. "More than anything," Reese swore. I reached out. I gently placed my hand on his head. I stroked his hair exactly the way I used to when he was stressed about his medical exams. "But you are married to Chloe," I whispered. "You have a life with her." "I hate her," Reese spat out. The venom in his voice was entirely real. "Chloe is a monster. She is a vicious, controlling nightmare. I despise every second I spend in that house with her. I wish I had never met her. I only want you, Alicia. I will leave her today. I will walk away from everything if you just give me a second chance." I kept stroking his hair. The voice memo app recorded every single word. "Go home, Reese," I said gently. "Go home and pack your things. Let me handle everything else." Reese smiled. It was a sickening, triumphant smile. He truly believed he had won. He believed he had manipulated the billionaire's wife into handing his life back to him. "I will wait for you," Reese whispered. He stood up, kissed the back of my hand, and hurried out of the office. The door clicked shut. I immediately pulled my hand back and wiped it on my skirt. I picked up my phone and stopped the recording. I attached the audio file to a new text message. I typed in Chloe's phone number. I pressed send. --- Reese unlocked the front door of the Mayfair townhouse. He felt like a king. He had played Alicia perfectly. She was going to drop Johansen, and she was going to give him the hospital. He had secured his future. He pushed the door open. "Chloe?" Reese called out. "We need to talk." He stepped into the foyer and froze. The house was completely destroyed. The antique mirrors were shattered into a thousand pieces. The heavy silk curtains were ripped from the walls. Smashed glass and broken porcelain covered the expensive hardwood floors. "Chloe?" Reese asked. His voice trembled. The arrogant confidence vanished instantly. He walked slowly into the living room. The lights were off. The heavy drapes were pulled shut. Chloe was sitting in the center of the ruined room. She was sitting in a velvet armchair. Her phone rested on the coffee table in front of her. Reese's own voice was playing from the speaker on a continuous loop. I hate her. Chloe is a monster. I despise every second I spend in that house with her. Chloe looked up. Her eyes were completely bloodshot. Her makeup was smeared across her pale face. She did not look angry. She looked completely, terrifyingly unhinged. "You despise me," Chloe whispered. Reese backed away. "Chloe, listen to me. I had to say that. I was tricking her." Chloe stood up. Her hand dropped to her side. Her fingers curled around a heavy, dark object. She raised her arm and pointed it directly at his chest. It was a loaded handgun. "You are not going anywhere, Reese," Chloe said deadpan. She pulled the hammer back with a sharp click. "We are going to stay married until death do us part."

"Put the gun down, Chloe." Reese kept his voice dangerously calm. He did not break eye contact. Chloe's hands shook violently. The barrel of the gun wavered. "You ruined my life. You used me." Reese took a slow step forward. "I was lying to her. I told you that." "Liar!" she screamed. She blinked. Tears blurred her vision for a fraction of a second. That was all the opening Reese needed. He lunged forward. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it hard. Chloe shrieked in pain. The gun clattered onto the ruined hardwood floor. Reese shoved her backward. She collapsed onto the sofa and sobbed hysterically. Reese kicked the gun across the room. He stared at his weeping wife. The marriage was completely dead. She was a massive liability. If Johansen Silva came for them, Chloe would drag him down. He needed an exit strategy. He needed to be the victim. If he went to the police first, he could pin the entire cover-up on her. He could claim she held him hostage in the marriage. He could claim she forced him to botch the surgery under threat of death. He would throw her to the wolves. He would walk away clean. --- The ballroom was blindingly bright. Crystal chandeliers cast a harsh glow over the elite crowd of London. Johansen stood beside me. He held a glass of champagne. He did not drink it. We were surrounded by hundreds of people, but we were entirely alone in our cold, calculated transaction. We were here to establish our power. We were here to make sure society knew I was untouchable. "They just walked in," Johansen murmured. His voice was a flat, emotionless drawl. I turned my head. Reese and Chloe were stepping into the ballroom. They were putting on a desperate, pathetic performance. Reese forced a charming smile. Chloe clung to his arm. They were trying to prove to the world that they were still a perfect, powerful couple. Johansen placed his hand on my lower back. "Smile, Alicia. Your ex-boyfriend is watching." I forced the corners of my mouth up. Johansen pulled me flush against his chest. He leaned down and brushed his lips against my jawline. To the rest of the room, it looked like a moment of intense, burning passion. I felt absolutely nothing. Johansen's touch was cold. His eyes were completely dead. We were perfectly synchronized in our hatred for Reese, but we were emotionally barren. I was a prop in his revenge. He was a shield in mine. The icy reality of our arrangement settled heavily in my chest. I looked past Johansen's shoulder. Reese was staring directly at us. His fake smile was gone. His face was flushed red with absolute, consuming jealousy. He hated seeing me with another man. He hated seeing me wield power he could never touch. Johansen pulled back. He did not look at my face. He kept his gaze locked on Reese. "It is working," Johansen said coldly. "He is losing his mind." "I need a moment," I said. Johansen dropped his hand immediately. He turned his attention back to the crowd. He did not ask if I was okay. He did not care. I walked away from the ballroom. I needed to escape the suffocating tension. I navigated the quiet, carpeted hallways until I found the women's restroom. I pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. The restroom was empty. I walked over to the marble sinks. I turned on the cold water and splashed it on my wrists. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I did not recognize the cold, hardened woman staring back at me. The restroom door swung open. I looked up at the mirror. Chloe stumbled into the room. She looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot. She swayed slightly on her feet. The heavy scent of pure vodka radiated off her skin. She had been drinking heavily before they even arrived at the gala. Chloe turned and pushed the heavy deadbolt on the door. It locked with a loud, final click. My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned around to face her. "Unlock that door, Chloe," I demanded. Chloe laughed. It was a wet, broken sound. "You think you won. You think you can just take my husband and ruin my life." "You ruined your own life," I said. "Now get out of my way." I took a step toward the door. Chloe reached into her small clutch purse. Her hand whipped out. Silver metal flashed under the harsh vanity lights. She was holding a heavy, sharp letter opener. The blade was pointed directly at my chest. "You took everything from me," Chloe slurred. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her grip on the handle tightened. "I am not going to let you walk out of here, Alicia. If I lose everything, you lose your life." She lunged forward.