Love Burned to Ashes

Samantha stepped quietly back into the room, closed the door behind her, and made a call.

"Uncle, there's something else I need your help with," she said. "Can you look into something for me? Three years ago, at a dance academy in Reystein City—a girl jumped off a building. I want to know what really happened."

It had only been three months since she'd reconnected with her uncle. Before that, she hadn't known she still had family in this world.

He'd been urging her to come home ever since, to inherit the family estate. But she had loved Connor too much back then—so much that she kept refusing.

Now she finally understood. No matter how passionate love might seem, it could never compare to the quiet weight of blood ties.

This time, she would play the game herself. She would make sure that Connor spent the rest of his life drowning in regret and misery.

…

"Samantha, there's a party tomorrow," Connor said. "Reystein City's elite will all be there. I'll take you with me—introduce you to everyone. Once we're married, events like this will be a regular thing. You should start getting used to it."

He wrapped his arms around her from behind as she stood in front of the bathroom sink. His lips brushed against the delicate curve of her earlobe, lingering there before he inhaled deeply, as though savoring the scent of her hair.

In the mirror, Samantha looked at herself, forcing a smile that never touched her eyes. "Okay," she said.

His hand slid down, fingers tugging at the sash of her nightgown. Instinctively, she reached back and caught his wrist.

"Connor, I'm not feeling well today. Can we not?"

His gaze lingered on her, his eyes searching hers for a moment—quiet, uncertain. Something seemed off. But then he remembered the night she had spent with Matt. His mouth curled into a bitter smile as he nodded.

"Alright. You should rest. I'll sleep in the other room tonight. Don't want to disturb you."

"Mm. Good night, Connor."

"Good night, Samantha."

As the door clicked shut, Samantha's body, tight with restraint, finally began to ease. Her exhaustion spilled across her features.

She braced herself on the sink, ripped two tissues from the box, and scrubbed at the place on her skin where he'd kissed her.

For all she knew, his saliva might be laced with poison.

Men like him—venom lived in their touch, in the sweet nothings they whispered.

And she had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

…

At the party, she wore the gown Connor had sent someone to deliver first thing that morning—a custom piece from a high-end boutique. The pale teal fabric complimented her already fair skin, giving her a fragile, almost untouchable elegance.

She held onto his arm as they moved through the crowd, greeting one person after another. Her expression never faltered—gentle, poised, appropriate.

"Mr. Reddington, it's been a while," Connor said with a smile. "Let me introduce you—this is my fiancée, Samantha."

Fiancée.

The word lodged itself in her chest like a splinter.

Her fingertips trembled ever so slightly where they rested on the sleeve of his suit. Through the thin fabric, she could feel the warmth of his body.

Her nose stung, and she swallowed hard.

That word—fiancée—had once been everything she'd dreamed of. She had longed for it, prayed for it, even begged for it in silence.

Now, it felt like a dagger pressed against her ribs.

"Samantha, are you alright?" Connor's voice pulled her back. He was watching her, concern flickering behind his eyes. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine."

"Come on, I'll take you to sit down for a bit."

"Alright."

Not far off, Hannah approached them, a glass of wine in her hand.

"Samantha, you look gorgeous tonight," she said with a smile, eyes scanning Samantha from head to toe. "No wonder Connor's so taken with you."

There was something thin and sharp hidden in her voice, something just beneath the surface.

Samantha didn't react. Her face remained still. "Thank you," she said.