Victoria Washington
He wasn't coming.
I could feel it in my bones. The hour was late, the candles on the table had burned down to nothing but stubs. My phone was still dead silent. The waitress's eyes lingered on me too long, giving me that sympathetic look, the one reserved for the pathetic girl who had been sitting alone for hours waiting. My fingers hovered over my phone, the screen still blank. No calls, no texts. Nothing.
Today of all days—my birthday.
I stood up slowly, my legs stiff from sitting too long, my heart heavier with each second that passed. I had dressed up for him. For us. Now I looked like a fool.
I stepped out of the restaurant, the air biting against my skin like ice. I couldn’t cry, not here. Not in public. But the tears were close. Too close.
Maybe something happened to him. Maybe there’s an explanation.
Maybe…
I swallowed the lies I was feeding myself, my mind too exhausted to believe them. I just wanted to go home. Sleep. Forget this night ever happened.
But then, how can I?
Exhaling, I dialed his number once again. One ring. Two. By the third, he picked up.
“Hey babe,” Clinton said, his voice strained but oddly calm, like nothing was wrong.
I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me. “Where are you? I've been waiting at the restaurant for hours. You just… vanished.”
He paused, and I could hear rustling in the background. “I’m… I’m sorry, babe,” he muttered, and for a moment, it sounded like he was moving, shuffling something around. “It’s been a crazy day. I was on my way to see you, I swear, but—”
“But what?” I cut in, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s my birthday and you just disappeared.”
“I know,” he sighed, the words dragging out like he was barely holding onto the conversation. “Just that my car broke down and then my phone died. I tried to get it fixed, but everything just went to hell. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I promise to make it up to you.”
I blinked. “Your car broke down?”
“Yeah, on that back road near Pinewood,” he said, the lie rolling off his tongue so easily, so naturally, it almost sounded true. “You know, the one with no signal? I was stuck there for hours until some guys with a tow truck finally passed by.”
I frowned, a chill running down my spine. “Pinewood?” I repeated. “But… you’re only ten minutes from my house. You could have just…”
“I know,” he cut me off quickly. “I should have called sooner. I’m an idiot, okay? But don’t worry, I'm fine now. I’ll come by tomorrow. We’ll celebrate your birthday properly. Just… relax tonight, okay?”
Something felt off. His voice was too rehearsed, too smooth, like he’d practiced this story in his head before picking up the phone.
“What’s that noise I'm hearing?” I asked suddenly, straining my ears to catch the sound. It was faint, but I could hear something—like soft laughter or music in the background.
He went silent for a beat. Too long.
“That’s just… TV,” he quickly said. “I’m at home, remember? Trying to wind down after this whole mess.”
My stomach twisted, that familiar feeling of doubt creeping back in. “Are you sure about what you’re saying? Because it sounds like—”
“Babe,” Clinton interrupted again, sharper this time, but still trying to sound calm, “I’m telling you, it’s nothing. You’re overthinking this. I'm just trying to catch my breath after a shitty day, okay?”
I swallowed hard, nodding even though he couldn't see me. “Okay,” I whispered, trying to force the doubts away.
“I will see you tomorrow, okay? I love you, Vicky.”
“I love you too,” I murmured back, but the words felt hollow.
When I hung up, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. I didn't want to be blinded by emotions. I needed to know. I couldn't go to sleep with this knot in my chest, this dread eating me alive.
So I drove.
I don't know what possessed me to do it—to check on him. Maybe it was that gnawing intuition, or maybe it was I just needed to see him to feel better. To reassure myself that I was being paranoid.
I drove to his house, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. My mind spun with all the possibilities. Maybe I would get there and find him sick on the couch, just like he said. Maybe he’d just had a bad day.
But then I pulled up to his house and all my hopes crumbled.
His car was in the driveway.
The lights were on.
And the faint sound of laughter carried through the night air.
I parked down the street, my heart pounding against my chest like a war drum. I crept up to the house, careful not to make a sound. With every step, I could feel the truth creeping closer, like a storm on the horizon.
I reached the window and peered inside.
And there they were—Clinton and Marianna, my sister.
Not sitting on the couch this time, but wrapped around each other, lost in each other, like I never existed. His hands were on her waist, pulling her close, his lips trailing down her neck.
The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering to the ground with a sickening thud.
He lied. Again.
“Clinton…?” I muttered, opening the door and stepping into the house. The whole place made me feel sick to the point I wanted to throw up. "What on earth is happening?"
“Vicky? What the hell are you doing here?” Clinton's voice came out startled, his eyes widening in panic as he froze in place, like a child caught doing something unspeakable.
My heart raced as Marianna turned to face me, her expression unfazed, almost amused. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to press her lips to his in a slow, deliberate kiss. “Oh, darling, did you forget to tell her?” she laughed, the sound slicing through the air. “Guess what, sister dearest—you’re going to be my bridesmaid tomorrow! Surprise!”
“What...?” My voice cracked. “What are you talking about?” My head started to spin, a sharp ache forming behind my eyes. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Marianna's smile turned vicious, her eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. “You’re so pathetically naïve, Victoria. Clinton and I have been together for years. You’ve just been the sad, pitiful third wheel this whole time. Honestly, the sight of you disgusts me.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I staggered back, my chest tightening. “But… but you're marrying into the Volkov family… what about that?” I turned to Clinton, desperation creeping into my voice. “Clinton, please… tell me she’s lying.”
But instead of denial, Clinton’s mouth twisted into a cold, condescending smile. “What’s there to explain, Vicky? It’s all true. I’m marrying her tomorrow. Maybe you should congratulate us.” His tone was sharp, dismissive, as if my feelings didn’t even register.
I felt like the ground was crumbling beneath my feet. “How… how could you do this to me? After everything? After three years?”
He shrugged casually, like it meant nothing. “You were just convenient, that’s all.”
The world blurred as my tears finally broke free, rolling down my cheeks, hot and bitter. “Please… tell me this is some kind of sick joke,” I whispered, my voice trembling, barely audible.
Marianna's laughter was sharp, merciless. “Oh, Vicky, don’t be so dramatic. You’ll be fine. You always are. But do us all a favor and marry into the Volkov family, will you? That way, we’ll be free to live our lives without your pathetic presence hanging around. You owe it to us, orphan.”
Her words were a dagger, twisting deep. My chest tightened painfully as I gasped for air, my hands clutching at the fabric over my heart as if trying to hold it together. Everything felt like it was shattering, breaking beyond repair. The betrayal, the lies—my own sister. How had I been so blind?
Tears streamed down my face, uncontrollable now, as I stood there, feeling like my entire world was crashing down. “You... you both ruined me,” I choked out. “I gave you everything.”
Clinton just scoffed, his eyes cold and detached. “You’ll get over it, Vicky. You always do.”
But I wasn’t sure if I ever could.
“How dare you!” I screamed, my voice breaking as I swung my bag at him, tears already blurring my vision. He caught my wrists with a brutal grip, forcing me back. I lost my footing, hitting the cold floor hard.
Marianne’s cruel laughter echoed through the room. "Aww… begging my fiancé to make you his sidepiece? How pathetic." She snapped a picture, her phone angled like I was some trophy of her victory.
I forced myself to look away, my eyes burning with shame, humiliation swirling through me. My heart ached, each beat reminding me of the betrayal in front of me.
"You’re nothing but a worthless boyfriend stealer," Marianne hissed, her voice dripping with venom. Clinton laughed beside her, his mocking gaze cutting through me like I was nothing but garbage.
“Get out of my sight!” she screamed, picking up a glass and drenching me in water and smoothies, the icy liquid soaking into my skin. My body shivered, but it was the coldness of their cruelty that made me feel frozen in place.
"Victoria, get out already!" Clinton snarled, his foot connecting with my side as he kicked me away. Pain shot through my body, but the physical hurt was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
They laughed, both of them, their laughter sharp and cruel. I could hear the clicks of their phones, recording my misery like it was some kind of entertainment. My skin burned with humiliation, my face hot with tears I couldn't hold back.
Marianne leaned in close, her voice like poison in my ear. "You look so pathetic. Everyone's going to see what a loser you are."
I scrambled to my feet, my dress clinging to my soaked skin. I couldn’t even look at them. My heart was pounding, and I just needed to get out of there. I rushed to my car, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the world blurring from the tears that wouldn't stop.
I slid into the driver’s seat, my hands shaking so bad I could barely start the engine. My dress was ruined, my heart shattered, and my eyes burned from crying. As I sped away, the laughter and taunts still echoed in my ears, the reality of what had just happened sinking deeper with every mile.
I felt like my whole world had just crumbled. And all I could do was drive.
“No! No! No!” I screamed, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The car swerved slightly, and I could barely focus on the road. "Concrete... You have to…the road... my hands... they're shaking!" My voice trembled, and I gasped for air, trying to keep control.
“Ahhh!” I let out a broken cry, my vision blurring with more tears. “Why?! Why me?!” My chest felt tight, and my breath came in short, desperate gasps. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, sobbing uncontrollably. The pressure in my chest was unbearable, like I was drowning in my own pain.
The car jerked to the side as I pulled over, unable to drive any further. My whole body was shaking, tears streaming down my face as I pounded the steering wheel again. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” I wailed, my voice raw and cracking. I leaned my head back against the seat, crying so hard I could barely breathe.
I pressed the pedal to the floor, my heartbeat matching the engine's roar as I hurtled toward the bridge. The dark water below promised an escape. An end.
But then my phone rang. Once. Twice.
I clenched the wheel, refusing to look. Nothing could stop me now.
On the third ring, I glanced down, the name Unknown flashing on the screen.
And then came the text.
"I’m watching you. Don’t even think about it."
My blood ran cold.
I slammed the brakes.
