Melody POV
I didn't cry. Not that night.
Not even when I dropped the tray of food and heard the clatter echo through the cold, expensive walls.
I just walked out slowly with my head high.
The pain sat heavy in my chest, but I didn't let it show. Not even when I got back to the car where I'd been secretly living. Not even when I curled up in the backseat with my coat pulled over me like a blanket.
The image of Marvis…shirtless, smiling, those women…played in my mind like a loop I couldn't turn off. I thought maybe it would fade by morning. It didn't.
The next day, I didn't go to the office. I parked my car a few streets away and waited until I knew he'd left the building. Only then did I sneak in for the files I needed. I moved like a ghost, careful not to be seen.
But of course, he saw me.
"Melody," he called out.
I kept walking. I didn't turn. Didn't slow down. Didn't even breathe. He didn't follow. Good because I didn't want to see his face.
I didn't want to remember how safe I used to feel around him. How drawn I had become. I was supposed to be using him. Watching him. Learning who he was. But somewhere along the way, I got lost in him.
And now… now I was done.
I spent the next few days avoiding every corner he might appear in. If I saw his car parked out front, I'd wait. If I heard his voice near a hallway, I'd take the stairs.
He didn't come after me. Not once.
Maybe that should have made it easier. It didn't.
It just proved that I meant nothing. That all of it the late night talks, the long stares, the quiet moments...meant more to me than it ever did to him.
I was a fool. A stupid girl who let her guard down.
I shouldn't have brought that food. I shouldn't have cared. But I did. I wanted to say sorry. For what, I don't even know. For surviving? For being near him too long?
I hated him. No I hated myself more.
I was so tired of pretending to be strong. So tired of keeping secrets. So tired of always being alone.
That night, I sat in the car with the windows cracked just enough to let the air in. The city outside kept moving. But inside, I was still. Numb.
Then I remembered something. The dream. The one where my parents appeared to me. I had brushed it off, called it a side effect of the pain meds and exhaustion. But it felt too real. Their voices. Their eyes. The way my father cupped my face like he used to.
And the name they whispered: Marc.
A twin brother I never knew about. Could it be true?
It didn't make sense. My mother would have told me. My father…he would never hide something like that. Or maybe… maybe that's what got them killed.
I shivered and reached for my journal, flipping to a clean page.
Marc. Twin. Why hidden? Connected to S.H Group? Was Marvis involved… at all?
The last question stayed at the bottom of the page like a wound that refused to heal.
No. He couldn't be.
But I had to stop thinking like that. He wasn't on my side. He never was. This wasn't about feelings or moments or warmth. This was about revenge. About answers.
I let my guard down. That was my fault. But never again.
Not for anyone. Especially not him.