“Margot is kind and forgiving, but I’m not going to stand by while she’s treated unfairly. You stole her work and caused all this drama. Isn’t an apology the least you can do?”
My heart clenched slowly. His eyes were cold and mocking.
Under the glare of a hundred camera lenses, my head throbbed painfully.
All I wanted was to run. To get far, far away from the flashing lights, from this scene, from him.
“Regina,” he said again, “just because you’re my stepsister doesn’t mean I’ll protect you. If you did something wrong, take responsibility.”
“What, do you think you can just deny it and pretend nothing happened?” he snapped.
I bit down hard, holding back the pain, and shoved my way out as fast as I could.
I wouldn’t apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I say sorry?
The mix of anger and hurt churned in my chest, but slowly… it started to fade into something else.
Resignation.
Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe that was okay.
Outside the window, the city blurred by. Another sharp wave of pain hit my skull.
My phone buzzed. A message from my doctor popped up.
[Miss Macy, the tumor has already spread. Please think carefully about your next steps.]
I didn’t hesitate. I typed out my reply.
[Still, no treatment.]
After all, there wasn’t much left for me to hold on to anymore.
Regina's POV
The villa was quiet—eerily so. On the nightstand beside the bed, there was still a photo of me and Darell.
He had his arm around my shoulder, and I was smiling like the happiest girl in the world.
I lifted the mattress with practiced hands and pulled out a letter that had been carefully taped to the underside. A love letter.
A letter Darell once wrote to me.
I could still picture how nervous he looked back then—his eyes full of excitement and hope.
He had said, “I don’t want to be your stepbrother anymore. I want to protect you for the rest of my life.”
I hadn’t replied right away. I stayed silent for so long that he finally looked at me with that pitiful expression and said, “Regina, if you don’t answer soon, I’m gonna lose all my dignity.”
He looked at me with such sincerity. That face I’d tucked away deep in my heart, the one I dreamed about constantly. At that moment, I almost said yes.
Yes. A hundred times, yes. How could I not like him?
When I was fifteen, my mom married his dad—and just like that, he walked into my life, telling me he’d watch out for me from then on.