My Fiancé Chose Her,So I Buried Them Both

The nearest man didn't wait for me to move. He grabbed the skirt of my gown.

*Riiip!*

One hard yank and the fabric split all the way to my armpit.

A piercing cheer tore through the crowd.

Brent saw it happen, strode over, and kicked the man to the ground, then stripped off his own jacket and threw it over me.

He turned to Gloria.

"Gloria, look—the dress is ruined anyway. Let's not—"

"I want it!"

Gloria cut him off again.

She must have seen the hesitation still on his face,

because she pulled a dagger from her clutch and pressed the blade straight to her own throat.

Her whole body was trembling as she looked at him, her voice shaking.

"Brent, my parents are dead—they died overseas. I only came back because you promised you'd protect me…"

"And now you can't even do this one little thing for me? How am I supposed to trust you! I might as well just die…"

"Don't!"

Before Gloria could press the blade any harder,

Brent lunged forward and closed his bare hand around the blade.

Blood streamed down his wrist like a creek.

Three years ago, the day I'd gone alone into a den of armed men to rescue him, he'd thrown his forearm into the path of a machete for me.

He'd told me he would only ever bleed for me, for the rest of his life.

Funny how that promise only had three years in it.

"Brent, I don't want to put you in a hard spot…"

"You're not!"

Brent turned and walked straight toward me.

"Gloria wants this dress? I'll strip it off her myself!"

The words were barely out of his mouth

before he reached down and ripped away the jacket he'd just draped over me.

Then he grabbed the collar of the gown and tore downward.

"Brent!"

I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and locked both hands around his wrist.

My eyes were bloodshot, fixed on his face, my voice raw and shaking.

"You can't do this! My mother sewed this stitch by stitch—you know what it means to me…"

Something flickered in his eyes.

But right then, Gloria's teary, petulant whine rose again behind him.

"Brent, I really don't see the point of being alive anymore. My mom and dad are gone, and anyone can just bully me whenever they want…"

The hesitation in his hands vanished. His grip tightened.

The look he gave me went cold.

"Maya, you brought this on yourself! You're your mother's daughter—what, you think Gloria wasn't just as precious to hers?"

"She sprayed me with a water gun first!"

"That was a *blessing!*"

"Maya, from the second Gloria came back you've fought her on everything. And you *still* don't see what you did wrong! I spoiled you—that's what this is. Today I'm going to fix that!"

The moment the words left his mouth, his hands wrenched apart.

*RIIIP!!*

This time the gown split clean in two.

Brent glanced around at the crowd.

He saw the hunger in their eyes. He saw it clearly.

And he shoved me away anyway, tearing my body free from the two ruined halves of fabric.

Gasps cut through the air around me.

I felt every greedy stare on my skin, swallowed down the nausea flooding my throat, and scrambled to the side to snatch up the shredded remains of the gown and press them against myself, covering what I could.

But the second I managed it, Brent was already striding toward me again.

He grabbed the other edge of the torn fabric.

"Brent!"

I stared him down, my voice a blade.

"You'd destroy me like this over one woman's pathetic act? You'll die ugly for this."

Touch me one more time, and you and that bitch won't even know how you died.

"Oh?"

Brent stopped. His fingers clamped down on my jaw, forcing my face up,

and he studied me with open, mocking amusement.

"Back to playing the big Miss Pruitt, are we? But this is Monterra City."

Gloria strutted forward with her hands on her hips, took one look at the wreck of me, and let out a delicate little laugh behind her palm.

"Sis, even if you call someone, what exactly are they going to do to us? All we did was splash a little water on you. It's the water festival! If people could die from getting splashed at a water festival, would there be any justice left in this world?"

They were certain they hadn't broken any law.

Certain that a pampered heiress from Kingsport had no power here.

They wanted to use this moment to grind me, and the entire Pruitt family, under their heels.

But they were so, so stupid.

Because while they stood there running their mouths, spewing every filthy word they had,

a hundred jet-black industrial water cannon trucks were rolling toward them across Starhaven Plaza.

As the thundering roar of those hundred machines swelled behind me,

I looked at Brent and Gloria and let the coldest smile I had spread across my face.

Fine. You love playing with water so much? This lady will play with you properly today.