The image of what I had seen earlier burned in my mind. The words they had spoken—betrayal woven into every syllable—didn’t just break my heart. They shattered it. Twice over.
At that moment, I would have rather died than face the truth.
My hands were still shaking as I set the glass down and moved toward the table. My gaze flicked to the knife. A cruel, bitter thought crossed my mind—I could drive it straight into his heart, make him feel the pain he had inflicted on me. Him and Anastasia.
Instead, I grabbed the fork, cutting into the beef with unsteady hands as tears finally escaped, sliding down my cheeks.
Marcus noticed immediately. “Cie, are you okay? Why are you crying?”
He reached for me, his warm hands gripping my shoulders as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Did something happen? What's wrong?”
His touch, his concern—it made me want to scream. He wiped my tears away so gently, and my heart ached. I wanted to believe this was just my imagination. A hallucination born from years of suffering.
But it wasn’t.
I loved Marcus. So much that it hurt.
“I love you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with pain.