My hands trembled. I knew Colette and Raphael had known each other since childhood, had attended the same prestigious schools, and had walked the same privileged paths.
Unlike me, the stranger who had barged into his world uninvited, she had always been there.
Yet, I had never imagined the betrayal would be this close.
A horrible thought struck me. "Could it be that she was there too?"
My voice came out in a whisper, my mind racing back to the cruel laughter of Raphael’s friends, the way they had mocked me, discussed my body as if I were nothing more than a scandal to be exploited.
Before I could process it, my phone buzzed again.
The words sliced through me like a blade, cold and merciless.
[You didn't really think you were special, did you? Raphael and I have known each other since childhood. Our parents already decided our future. You were nothing more than a doll, something Raphael used to bring down your family for his own gain.]
A hollow laugh escaped me, void of humor and emotion.
I had been a fool.
To think Colette was just another student. To think she was just a friend in Raphael’s circle.
It turned out, she was part of everything, even Raphael’s plan.
My chest ached, and for a fleeting moment, I felt the sting of tears burning behind my eyes. But I refused to let them fall.
Raphael had already stolen enough from me—my trust, my first love, my dignity. But they would not take my pride.
With newfound resolve, I zipped up my bag, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of the room.
As I walked past the room, the door suddenly swung open.
The sharp click of stiletto heels echoed against the marble floor, sending a chill down my spine.
And then I saw her.
Colette.
My intuition had been right all along. She had been among them—laughing, indulging in the cruel spectacle of my downfall.
With effortless grace, Colette stepped forward, a delicate crystal glass of wine in her hand, her expression a picture of practiced innocence.
She smiled at me, her lips curling with an unreadable amusement, then glided closer, her eyes feigning warmth.
“Nadine,” she sang sweetly, slipping her arm through mine as if we were old friends, as if she had not just stabbed me in the back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Apparently, you were here all along.”
Her voice was a melody of deception, gentle enough to fool the onlookers but sharp enough to make my stomach twist.