Julian lost a game of Truth or Dare.
As punishment, the heir to the Carter family was dared to text his young wife a divorce message.
He knew damn well—after five years of marriage—that the one word I couldn’t stand was divorce.
Just as he was racking his brain trying to figure out how to smooth things over, he suddenly got my reply.
I said yes.
He rushed home in a panic, every nerve in his body screaming something was wrong.
The moment he pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was me lying on the rug beside the couch.
His brows knitted tightly as he walked over.
“You’re not feeling well and still sleeping on the floor? Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”
But I didn’t move.
Not a sound. Not even the sound of breathing.
Panic shot through him like fire.
“Isla, get up.”
He crouched down to pick me up. But the second he touched me, the icy cold of my body shot straight through his fingertips.
Chapter 1
When I chose to give up my role as a “Player” and stay by Julian Carter’s side, the System gave me a punishment.
If Julian ever stopped loving me, I would die.
But if he loved me forever, I could live.
I believed him when he said I was the only one he would ever love. I believed him so much I stayed.
And then, five years into our marriage, a countdown appeared out of thin air.
[Host no longer viable for survival in this world. Penalty initiated. Termination in: 3 days.]
The cold, robotic voice rang in my head again for the first time in five years.
My hand froze, piping bag still full of cream, hovering over the anniversary cake I’d spent all day making.
My first thought: the System must’ve glitched.
But no—the numbers floated in mid-air, glowing red, ticking down second by second.
2 days, 23 hours, 50 minutes, and 33 seconds.
My fingers clenched around the bag. Whipped cream splattered the counter.
I wiped it off with a trembling hand, grabbed my phone, and called Julian.
No answer.
I called again. And again.
Ten calls later, he finally picked up.
“If you’re that bored, go get a job,” he snapped. “I’m in a meeting. Are you trying to kill me with all these calls?”
I stared at the countdown in the air.
Kill you?
Julian, it’s literally killing me.
But I smiled and kept my voice light. “Will you be home tonight? I bought your favorite seafood.”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m busy lately. Just go to bed early.”
My heart twisted like it’d been soaked in poison.
I asked anyway. “Do you remember what day it is today?”
He hung up.
The busy tone hummed in my ear while I looked at the cake.
“Happy Fifth Anniversary,” I’d written in delicate lettering.
The words blurred behind a fresh wave of tears.
[Reality check: He doesn’t love you anymore.]
Thanks, System.
I already knew. I just couldn’t say it out loud.
The bitterness climbed up my throat and choked me.
But I still finished the damn cake.
“He’ll come back,” I whispered to no one. Maybe to myself. Maybe to the System. Who knows.
I set the table. His favorite dishes, crab legs and grilled oysters. Cleaned the whole damn house. Even climbed a ladder and taped up the cheap “Happy 5th Anniversary” banner I bought on sale.
It was eight p.m. when I finally sat at the dining table.
I waited.
From eight to midnight.
He didn’t come home.
But a video did.
An anonymous link landed in my inbox.
I clicked it. I already knew.
Julian. In bed. Still wearing our wedding ring.
Fucking another woman like he was possessed.
“Do you love me more, or Mrs. Carter?” she asked, giggling mid-thrust.
He groaned, deep and low.
That groan hit harder than any scream ever could.
I ran to the bathroom. Vomited red.
Blood.
I stared at it, stunned. The sounds from the video still played from the phone on the counter.
Delete. I tapped it automatically.
It wasn’t the first time.
I used to think if I just deleted them all, I could pretend everything was still okay. That Julian and I were still okay.
But now the countdown was flashing in front of my face.
I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
I looked at the blood one more time.
Then I took a picture and texted it to him.
Julian, if you don’t come home now, I’m going to die.
