Ten Years of Love, Ended in Betrayal

Liora’s POV

When I finally regained consciousness, a faint medicinal scent drifted into my senses—clean, bitter, and unmistakably herbal. I was stretched out on a narrow but comfortable bed inside a private medical suite, its curtains drawn to let in soft afternoon light. An elderly doctor stood nearby, her expression calm and reassuring as she noticed my eyes open.

“You’re lucky you were brought here before it was too late,” she said gently, though there was an unmistakable note of seriousness beneath her kindness.

I wanted to answer her, to say something—anything—but my throat burned as if I had swallowed fire. No sound came out. The sharp agony from earlier was gone, yet an overwhelming fatigue clung to my body, weighing me down to the mattress. It felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from me. I had come far too close to dying.

“You must never consume anything containing berries again,” the doctor continued, lightly tapping my chilled fingers as if scolding a careless child. “For you, that ingredient is lethal. Elisha rushed you here herself, begging me not to give up on you. Everyone knows you’re supposed to be Corwin Sterling’s future wife. You need to value your life more than this.”

Her concern was sincere, but her words struck painfully deep.

Future wife.

Once, that title had been everything to me. A certainty. A promise. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

She placed a small glass vial into my palm. “Take this medicine three times a day for the next forty-eight hours. It will help your body stabilize. You’ll recover, but only if you rest.”

I nodded weakly in thanks. The rest of the day passed in silence as I lay there alone, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together my thoughts. For a brief moment, the quiet almost soothed me—until the door slowly opened.

Corwin walked in.

The sight of him no longer brought comfort. Instead, a dull ache settled in my chest. He looked exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes, his suit wrinkled as if he hadn’t slept.

He lowered himself beside my bed and wrapped his hand around mine. “Liora… thank God you’re awake,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Calista’s condition worsened. She needed me with her.”

Each word reopened wounds I didn’t think could bleed any further. I wanted to shout, to tell him that I had nearly died alone while he stayed with her—but my voice failed me, and the truth remained trapped in my chest.

His fingers brushed my cheek, familiar and gentle. For a split second, I almost convinced myself that the tenderness was still meant for me. But I knew better.

“I’ll come back later,” he added, standing up. “I just need to make sure Calista’s all right. She’s an important guest—the daughter of one of our partners. I can’t let anyone accuse me of neglecting her. You understand, don’t you? This is just responsibility. Don’t misunderstand.”

He pressed a light kiss to my forehead, just like he used to, then turned and walked out.

He didn’t return.

Later, Elisha—one of the private tutors employed by the Sterling estate—quietly told me that Corwin had left the city with Calista to resolve a corporate dispute overseas. The news hollowed me out. There was a time when I stood beside him in meetings, when I was the one he relied on. Now, that place belonged to her.

Left alone in my room, my eyes drifted to the wooden chest tucked neatly beneath the window. Inside were four hundred ninety-eight handwritten letters Corwin had given me over the years. Each one had carried a promise—that when the count reached five hundred, he would propose.

But six months had passed since the last letter.

My fingers trembled as I rested my hand on the lid. The memories were unbearable. I shut the box and stood abruptly. I couldn’t breathe in a room built on broken vows.

I stepped outside, hoping the breeze and the familiar chatter of the children I taught would steady me. Instead, I froze.

Corwin stood a few feet away, laughing easily beside Calista. He was helping her carry a basket of fresh apples, his smile brighter than I’d seen in months.

Once, that sight would have filled me with jealousy.

Now, I felt nothing at all.

Calista noticed me first. Her smile widened, sweet and innocent. “Liora! Would you like some apples? Mr. Muxim sent them over. Corwin said you’re fond of them.”

Corwin turned toward me, still smiling. “She loves apple pie,” he said casually.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t.”

His expression flickered in confusion. “What? Of course you do. We—”

“No,” I repeated quietly but firmly. “You do. I never did.”

Calista’s face twisted into exaggerated hurt. “Did I offend you? I was only trying to share.”

Her tone grated on me, but I kept my composure. I recognized the act—the helpless innocence she wore so well. And every time I rejected it, Corwin looked at me like I was cruel.

“Liora,” he said sharply. “Calista is being considerate. Can’t you try to be civil? She’s done nothing wrong, and you’re being unnecessarily cold.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I was too tired to fight anymore.

“Thank you for the apples, Calista,” I said, forcing a polite smile as I took three from the basket. “I have a class to teach.”

I turned away—

And Corwin’s hand closed around my arm.