Chapter 4
As soon as Morinne stepped out of the car, she leapt excitedly into Alexander’s arms.
“Alex, this is my absolute favorite play! I’ve only seen it once and couldn’t get tickets again after that. Thank you so much for today!”
Clinging to his arm, she led him toward their seats with enthusiasm.
Cynthia followed silently behind them, like she didn’t belong there.
Despite having front-row tickets, Alexander had assigned her a seat one row behind them.
The theater lights dimmed, and the grand performance began. The actors onstage threw themselves into their roles with
passion.
Most of the audience was absorbed in the play, but even during the performance, Alexander and Morinne sat hand in hand, fingers interlaced.
Cynthia saw it clearly. She didn’t absorb in the show at all.
She wasn’t even surprised or sad anymore. She felt nothing-just a bitter curl of her lips in self-mockery.
She’d barely slept the night before, and the cool air conditioning in the theater only made her drowsier. Before long, she drifted off to sleep.
Then suddenly-a burst of flame.
A pyrotechnic effect meant to enhance the show malfunctioned, and in a flash, the fire surged toward their section of the
audience.
“Watch out!” Alexander instinctively pulled Morinne into his arms, shielding her with his body.
Cynthia jolted awake at Alexander’s warning. She opened her eyes just in time to see flames rushing toward her. She instinctively raised her arms to cover her face.
Within seconds, she smelled burning flesh. Her arm seared with a blinding pain that nearly knocked her out.
The fire was quickly contained, but Cynthia was the only one hurt.
Her entire right arm was severely burned-raw, blistered, and horrific to look at.
Despite the searing pain and her ghost-white face drenched in cold sweat, she didn’t utter a single cry.
“Alex, it was so scary… The fire came right at me…” Morinne whimpered into his chest, clutching a few singed strands of her hair and crying pitifully.
“You’re safe now. Don’t be afraid. I’m still here,” he murmured gently, comforting her without sparing Cynthia even a
glance.
A staff member rushed over, pale with panic, and bowed in apology.
“Mr. Lowell, we’re so sorry! It was entirely our fault-there was a technical failure!”
Alexander’s tone turned icy.
“Figure out what happened. I expect a full report. If you can’t give me a proper explanation…”
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He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implied threat was enough to make the staffer tremble.
“Y-yes, absolutely! We’ll get on it right away!”
After the man scurried off, Alexander finally looked at Cynthia-expression icy cold.
“Go to the hospital. Take a cab yourself.”
Without another word, he lifted Morinne into his arms and walked off without looking back.
Cynthia stood frozen, gritting her teeth in pain.
She couldn’t tell what hurt more anymore-her arm, or her heart.
He used to panic when she so much as a small cut on her finger. But now he could leave her like this, completely
indifferent to her pain.
She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away.
Almost done. Just hold on a little longer.
Taking a deep breath, she flagged down a cab and forced herself to stay conscious until she arrived at the hospital.
Thankfully, the burns weren’t deep enough to require a skin graft. The damage looked terrifying but wasn’t life-threatening. After the doctor treated her, he simply advised rest.
By the time she left the hospital, night had fallen. A heavy rain poured down from the sky, and the streets were nearly
deserted.
She refreshed her Uber app again and again-no one was accepting her request.
The wind howled, nearly knocking her off balance.
Left with no choice, she braced herself and began the long walk home.
She held her umbrella low to keep her injured arm dry, but the storm was relentless. Visibility was poor, the streetlights
dim and flickering in the rain.
Then, out of nowhere, a speeding e-bike grazed her side, knocking her violently to the ground.
She struggled, but her body refused to cooperate.
The umbrella rolled away, hit by another vehicle, and was crushed into a twisted skeleton.
The e-bike didn’t stop. It sped off, never bothering to check if it had hit anyone.
Cynthia lay on the wet pavement, soaked and shivering, blood pooling beneath her.
She couldn’t even tell where she was hurt anymore-everything ached like her bones had shattered.
She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and dialed the only number that came to mind.
“Uncle Alex…”
The call connected, and his voice came through, cold and distant.
“Didn’t I tell you to take a cab yourself? I’m with Morinne right now. I don’t have time for you.”
Click.
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He hung up, relentlessly.
Cynthia stared at the phone, disbelief morphing into utter despair.
She bit down hard and forced herself upright, limping toward home through the storm.
She didn’t know how far she walked, or how long it took. By the time she made it back, covered in blood, it was already
dawn.
The moment she stepped inside, she collapsed.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before the sound of her phone ringtone pulled her back to consciousness.
Groggily, she opened her eyes and checked the screen.
Dozens of missed calls-from Ms. Tracey and Nathan Tracey.
As she hesitated, another call came in from Ms. Tracey.
“Cindy? What happened? Why haven’t you picked up your phone?”
Cynthia forced herself to a casual tone, “Sorry, I’m fine. My phone died, that’s all.”
But no matter how hard she tried to hide it, Ms. Tracey could hear the rasp and strain in her voice.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound okay. Nate’s been so worried, he was about to catch a red-eye flight to find you.”
“No need,” Cynthia said quickly, “We shouldn’t see each other before the wedding anyway.”
Still, Ms. Tracey didn’t sound reassured. Her tone turned gentle.
“Sweetheart, you’re family now. If anything ever happens, you have to tell us. Family doesn’t stand by and watch-family helps. You hear me?”
Cynthia’s heart warmed, “I understand. Was there something you needed?”
“Oh! Right!” Ms. Tracey laughed, smacking her forehead, “Silly me. Nate and I picked out dozens of wedding dresses for you. I just sent you the photos. We wanted to know which one you liked best!”
“I’m not picky. Anything is fine.”
Before she could say more, the front door opened.
Alexander stepped inside.
His eyes landed on her instantly, and his chest tightened.
“Wedding dress?” he said sharply, storming over. “What wedding dress?”
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