Troy, you never chose me. Not even once.
Because the moment he looked at us, at me and Bianca, something inside him cracked. For the first time since I married Troy Green, I saw him in a state that wasn’t polished or composed. He looked ruined. Human.
I found out later that as soon as he discovered we were missing after the crash, he mobilized his entire security team. Apparently, he searched every possible route, hacked traffic cams, paid off sources. He didn’t rest. And somehow… he found us in this godforsaken warehouse just minutes before the bombs went off.
But that didn’t matter because when he stepped inside and saw both Bianca and me strapped to chairs, bombs strapped to our chests, he didn’t hesitate.
He went to her and not me.
He dropped to his knees, started defusing the device attached to her, hands steady, voice calm. “Thalia, hang on. I’ll get her out and come back for you.”
I smiled then. I don’t know why. Maybe because I didn’t love him anymore. Or maybe… because that moment confirmed everything I had feared.
When he finally freed Bianca, there were only twenty seconds left.
She clung to his arm, trembling. “Troy! Let’s go! It’s going to explode, please!”
Troy run with her… and he didn’t even look at me. He didn’t even hesitate to leave me.
The door slammed behind them. I closed my eyes. My fingers trembled, but I focused on the wires. I’d taken a demolition course in college, back when I thought saving lives could be part of my future. I never imagined I’d be trying to save my own.
Three seconds.
Two.
“Click.”
The last wire came free. The explosion shook the ground. The blast tossed me like a rag doll against the concrete. I was barely conscious when I saw a shadow rushing back toward me through the smoke and fire.
Then, the next thing… I was in the hospital. I groaned and blinked, trying to make sense of the shapes around me. Troy was sitting beside the bed, face pale, eyes shadowed.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t move too much. You just had a skin graft.”
My head spun. “What…?”
He exhaled slowly. “Bianca’s arm was burned during the explosion. She didn’t want it to scar. Your skin tone matched hers best, so… we used part of your arm for the transplant.”
“What?” My voice was barely audible.
“She begged not to scar,” he said, as if that made it reasonable. “You were unconscious. It was urgent.”
Chanter &
חו ח
22:09 Sat, 24 May
R
I stared at him, trying to process it. “You didn’t even ask me.”
He reached for my hand. I yanked it away.
56%
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said quietly. “Didn’t you say you wanted to go out with me? Once you’re better, we’ll start over. Properly. I’ll-”
“Who. Cares.” I ripped the IV out of my hand. Blood oozed, warm and steady. “You don’t get to decide for me. You don’t take from me like I’m some… spare part!”
He looked stunned. Not hurt. Not remorseful. Just stunned that the thought of me saying no never occurred to him.
“She’s your bright moon,” I whispered, voice trembling. “And I’m just the dirt under your shoes, right? You took advantage of me liking you. You used it.”
I didn’t mean to cry. But the tears came anyway. And for once, he looked like he didn’t know what to do.
His phone rang. He answered.
“Yes?” he snapped.
His assistant’s voice came through loud enough for me to hear: “Mr. Green, the Princess Diana necklace Miss Bianca’s been wanting is going up for auction in Paris tonight. Should I prepare the jet?”
Troy hesitated. Just a second.
“Yes. Tell them I’ll be there.”
Then he turned to me, his voice clipped and controlled. “I’ll be overseas for a while. I’ll bring something back for you.”
A beat passed. Then, as if it would make anything better, he added, “And don’t worry. We’ll do that date, too. I won’t break my promise.”
The door closed behind him.
I curled into myself, buried my face in the pillow, and sobbed.
He would never choose me. Not even when I almost died.
Chapter 8
