She Loves Him, But He's Her Brother

Myron slouched on the couch, taking a lazy drag from the cigarette his bodyguard had lit for him. "Afraid? Yeah, sure. But what's there to lose? I've already hit rock bottom. I've got nothing to lose—barefoot and reckless, baby. Dragging this out just buys me more time and a bigger payoff!"

"Damn lunatic," Maurice muttered.

An hour later, the growl of an engine tore through the quiet as a sleek black sports car sped down the winding coastal road. Dust and gravel flew up in its wake as it screeched to a halt by the shore.

Edwin stepped out, all business in his sharp black suit, carrying a leather briefcase.

On the yacht, Melanie and Maurice were separated, standing on opposite sides of the deck. Myron, riding a jet ski, zipped to the shore to start negotiations.

Maurice was already a sobbing mess, screaming out Edwin's name.

Melanie, on the other hand, was gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes stayed glued to the figure in the distance, her heart pounding in her chest.

For just a second, she let herself hope. Maybe—just maybe—she wouldn't be the one abandoned this time.

She couldn't help but remember when she was 14. How it felt to be dumped like trash. How Edwin had been the one to pick her up.

It had been raining cold and relentless that day, and all she was wearing was her thin pajamas.

She'd been thrown out of her house by debt collectors and stumbled into the mud.

Sharp gravel tore at her palms, and cruel, mocking words echoed around her like a relentless storm

People in passing luxury cars stared at her, their gazes filled with either pity or indifference. One of her classmates walked by, sneering, her lips curling with disdain.

To this day, Melanie could still hear her classmate's voice, crystal clear in her memory.

"Hey, Melanie! Heard your parents dumped you! Our villa needs a maid to sweep the yard—interested?"

The rain grew heavier, soaking Melanie's hair until it clung to her face. She stood shakily, cold, wet, and humiliated.

She struggled to stand, only to see a shadow fall over her.

She'd looked up and seen him—Edwin. Composed and perfect.

He held out his hand to pull her out of the mud and take her to his villa that day.

"This is your home now," he'd said. "From now on, I'm your family."

And for years, she had naively believed him. She thought she'd never feel the sting of abandonment again.

Being abandoned—it hurt more than she could ever put into words.

But then, over the radio on the yacht, she heard Edwin call Maurice's name.

And just like that, Melanie's fragile hope shattered into a thousand sharp little pieces.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her chest heaving as the relief hit her like a punch.

Her tears started falling, heavy and endless, but for once, they didn't hurt.

The ocean breeze was strong, and the sky was clear. Overhead, seagulls sang, and from the other side of the deck, Maurice's giddy voice carried over.

"I knew it! I knew Edwin wouldn't abandon me! He loves me—I just knew it!"

Melanie smiled faintly through her tears. She glanced toward the shore and thought, for just a moment, that Edwin was looking at her too.

But she quickly shook off the thought, laughing bitterly to herself.

Why would he be looking at her?

He hadn't looked at her when she'd confessed to him and gotten rejected.

He hadn't looked at her when she'd been burning up with a fever in that hospital bed.

And he sure as hell hadn't looked at her when he'd handed over her Gummy Gem—the one she'd worked so hard on—as a stepping stone to his fiancée.

In his eyes, she had long been replaced.

And maybe that was better.

That was better. At the very least, she didn't owe him anything anymore.

The next second, while the guards around her were distracted, Melanie climbed over the railing and jumped into the sea.