Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia. "You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?" Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice. "I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?" "So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered. Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?" She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen." Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did. … After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go. When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh. It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin. Then, she froze. The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her. She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in. Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they. Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago. Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride. He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her. She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this. "Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake. "Jasper, someone's following me."Silence. Then, his voice—cold, dismissive. "Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene." He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again. Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand. "Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games." She hung up without hesitation. On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant. "Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?" Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her. By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it. That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized. Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?" Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep." Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—" "Don't. You're never a burden." "Jasper…" "Sleep." Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight. … Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow. The April night was warm, but it cut like glass. They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground. Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911. After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her. One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp— Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying. A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly. "Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"