No Love Left to Give

I thought the past three years had hardened me enough to face anything calmly. However, the moment I saw those photos, I still felt my blood boil at the shamelessness of the people I once held dear.

I went home looking for either Lennon, Frederick, or Florence, yet none of them were there. So I pulled on a hat and mask and headed straight to the Kirby estate.

Florence had made it to the final round of the International Gemstone Design Competition using my work, and Frederick and Lennon were throwing her a party to celebrate.

"You aren't invited to my celebration. Get out before I call security!" Florence stood in front of me in the custom gown she had stolen from me.

She used to be cautious around me, afraid I might record her, always acting sweet, even when we were alone. Now? She didn't even bother hiding it.

I swallowed my anger and said, "Don't bother. I won't stay long. I just have one question. You were the one in that hotel room with them, so why throw me under the bus? I gave you both of them. I even handed over the designs I spent five years creating. Isn't that enough for you?"

After I went missing as a child, my parents adopted Florence. She got to live my lavish life, but I never resented her for it.

Even after I was found, I never tried to take anything back from her. So why? What did I ever do to her to deserve this constant cruelty?

At my words, her expression twisted with rage. "Gave? Don't make yourself sound noble. I took them because I could. Because you refused to marry that vegetable, I had to."

"Mom and Dad never planned to make you marry him," I said.

"Oh, please. Do you think I believe that? The Johnson family was out of money, and only the Coleman family could help. The Johnsons wouldn't send their precious daughter, so it's natural that they'd send me. Really generous, huh? What a load of crap!" Florence snapped.

Mom and Dad had treated her well, yet this was what she thought of them. My vision blurred with fury. "Florence, you—"

Before I could finish my thought, she screamed, flopped to the ground, and started sobbing. Her wine glass shattered beside her.

Then Lennon shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the floor. "Elizabeth! How many times have I told you to stay away from Florrie? Keep this up, and you can get out of my house. Go back to being the unwanted orphan no one cared about."

My head slammed into the wall, and my vision blurred. My palm landed on a shard of glass, splitting the skin wide open. The pain stole my breath, but Lennon didn't even spare me a glance. He picked Florence up in his arms and walked away.

Fredrick saw this and came over, not to help me, but to make sure I didn't cause a scene.

The usual polite and gentle Frederick dragged me out of the party, saying, "Lizzy, this is Florrie's night. Don't ruin it, alright? It's just a few designs. You can always draw more."

That was five years of my life. I had worked tirelessly on it, pouring my heart and soul into every detail. How many sets of five years do we even get?

I pushed him aside and snapped, "I'm not here because of the designs. I came because of the trending news. She was the one pictured at that hotel. So why am I taking the fall?"

"Keep your voice down! Florrie is about to win an international design award. If people find out that she was at a hotel with two men, her reputation will be ruined."

Frederick was my boyfriend. He was involved in a threesome with another woman, threw me under the bus, and never once felt the slightest guilt. Instead, he blamed me.

I looked at him with disgust. "What about me? Do I not have a reputation to protect?"

"You're not the one winning awards. A little gossip won't kill you. Besides, I'll marry you and take care of you," he said casually, as if that were a trivial matter.

Ever since the flood, he had been hurting me for her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I looked at that familiar face, which now felt like a stranger.

Perhaps even he realized what a piece of garbage he sounded like because he avoided my gaze. "Suit yourself, Lizzy. But if you cause any more trouble, I'm breaking up with you."

"Then we're done." It wasn't the first time I had said it.

He thought that I would come crawling back, as I always did. So he just walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Through the glass, I saw Florence holding a trophy, standing between Frederick and Lennon, basking in the recognition and affection. It was the celebration that should have been mine.

Florence caught me watching and shot me a smug look.

A second later, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Florence.

Florence: "You grew up with two men and still couldn't win either of their hearts? That's just sad. Watching you cry is honestly hilarious. You're so ugly when you cry.

"Oh, by the way. Your little designs might win me gold. Are you mad yet? But it doesn't matter. You're not getting them back. And as for that hotel drama? You'll just keep taking the fall!"

She deleted the message right after she sent it, like she always did.

I clutched my phone tighter, telling myself to hold on. Let's see if she would still be that smug once her plagiarism was exposed!

As for that hotel stunt, I refused to take the fall. I called my private investigator. I wanted him to dig out the deleted hotel footage.

"I'm on it. I've already gathered some of the false accusations she made against you. There's a lot, and it might take a few more days to sort through them," the private investigator told me.

"That's fine. There's no rush. Just send it through when it's ready," I replied.

I had hired one of the best investigators money could buy, hoping to prove that Florence had set me up and clear things with Frederick and Lennon.

However, after Lennon kicked me into the pool and Frederick left me to drown, I didn't care what they thought about me anymore.

Since I no longer cared about them, I wasn't in a hurry to obtain the materials either. I smiled bitterly, slid my phone back into my pocket, and returned home.

Most of my things were already packed. I intended to walk away without leaving the slightest mark. Whatever I wanted to keep, I took. I threw away or sold the rest.

In the end, all I had was a single 20-inch suitcase, a thick photo album, and a glass jar full of colorful paper cranes.

The photo album held years of pictures of me, Lennon, and Frederick. They once said that we would take at least a hundred photos a year, so we would have something to look back on when we were old. However, they had already broken that promise for three years.

The paper cranes had been a gift from them. They told me that each one held a wish.

When I pulled them out years ago, begging them to believe that I was innocent, they had crushed the paper cranes under their feet and told me to grow up.

I took the album and the jar outside, stacked them, and set them on fire.

"What are you doing?" Lennon had arrived just in time to watch it all burn.