Turne

ury cars, designer clothes, and exotic vacations-all funded by Augustine. And there, prominently displayed on her wrist, was the silver bracelet Augustine had given me on our fifth anniversary. It

ith her. I'd grown numb to it, or so I told myself. A hollow echo of the pain I once felt. It had been a ritual: wake up, scroll through her feed, feel the

box, a cruel joke of reconciliation. I opened my own social media, a dormant account I rarely used, and uploaded both picture

ine. His voice was tight, strained. "What the he

all by yourself." My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the hurricane I felt brewing inside. "Aren't you happy? You got e

think this is some kind of game? You're playing with fire, Annice! You th

e edge forming around the words. "Exposing the truth? Is that so terrible? O

ut. Don't think for a second you have any power here, Annice. I can make your life a living hell. A hell

y composure. My stomach cramped, a familiar, agonizing twist that made me double over. I

and endorsements. He pulled every string, leveraging his vast wealth and influence to catapult her into superstardom. The

ere Augustine had purchased my necklace. It was a brazen, public declaration, a slap in the face. My moth

colder, more calculating. Augustine expected me to rage, to break, to

almost triumphant condescension. "I trust you'll be attending, Ann

iss it for the world. After all, I hear Cristina's wearing something ra

a mirror, wearing my wedding dress. The one I'd painstakingly designed, the one my mother helped me sew.

pain was a dull throb now, a constant companion. But it wasn't enough to break me. Not anymore. I

et, was my most cherished possession, the sculpture I had made for my mother. A delicate, ethereal piece carved from whi

ng ache that radiated through my entire core. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that time was running out. This

Not just this sculpture, but my masterpiece, the one that would truly define me. The one that would be my final, defiant scream against the unfairness of it all. I needed to finish it before the darkness claimed me entirely. I n