His Unwanted Trash, The Rival's Treasured Queen

Ember Vane POV

The dining room table was a slab of imported marble, cold enough to preserve a corpse.

Estelle sat at the head of the table.

My seat.

Julian sat to her right.

I was placed on the left, facing the window-positioned like a guest they were merely obligated to feed.

Julian placed a bowl of salad in front of me.

"Eat," he said.

I looked down at the bowl.

It was tossed in a thick peanut dressing.

I was deathly allergic to peanuts.

Julian knew this.

I had spent our second date in the ER simply because he had kissed me after eating a Snickers bar.

He had held my hand while my throat closed up, swearing he would never let anything hurt me again.

"I can't eat this," I said quietly.

"Why?" Julian asked, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. "It's just salad. Don't be difficult."

"It has peanuts, Julian."

He paused.

He looked at the salad, then at me.

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, followed immediately by a wash of indifference.

"Oh," he said. "I forgot. Just pick around them."

"You can't 'pick around' an allergy," I said, pushing the bowl away.

"God, you're dramatic." Estelle sighed, twirling her wine glass. "Julian made this from scratch. You're so ungrateful."

"I'm ungrateful because I don't want to die of anaphylactic shock?"

"Stop it." Julian slammed his hand on the table, the silverware rattling. "Both of you. Ember, if you don't want it, starve. I don't care."

Estelle smirked, taking a sip of wine.

"Ow!" she gasped suddenly, dropping her fork.

"What?" Julian was instantly alert.

"My ankle," she winced, grabbing her leg. "I think I twisted it again under the table. It throbs."

It was a lie.

She hadn't so much as shifted in her seat.

But Julian was out of his chair in a second.

He scooped her up into his arms, bridal style.

"I'm taking you to the car," he said. "We need to get that checked."

"But dinner..." Estelle whimpered.

"Screw dinner," Julian said.

He walked past me, carrying her like she was made of glass.

He didn't look at me.

He didn't ask if I wanted to come.

He left me sitting alone at the table, staring down at the bowl of poison he had served me.

I stood up.

I grabbed my keys and followed them.

I needed to hear it.

I needed the final nail in the coffin.

I drove to the hospital, keeping a safe distance behind Julian's black SUV.

I followed them up to the VIP floor.

The door to Estelle's room was cracked open.

I stood in the hallway, pressing my back against the cold wall.

"You're so good to me, Julian," Estelle's voice drifted out. "But what about Ember? The wedding is so close."

"Ember is a debt," Julian said.

His voice was clear. Clinical.

"She saved my life. I owe her. Marrying her pays that debt. It makes me look honorable to the Commission."

"But do you love her?" Estelle asked.

There was a silence.

A long, heavy silence.

"I love what she did for me," Julian said finally. "But look at her, Estelle. She's broken. She's scarred. Every time I look at her, I see the crash. I smell the fire."

He paused.

"Once the ring is on her finger, the debt is paid. I can stash her at the country estate. She can paint or whatever she does. But you..."

I heard the rustle of sheets.

"You are my true Queen. You always have been. The wedding is just a formality. A business transaction."

I slid down the wall until I hit the floor.

A debt.

A transaction.

I wasn't a person to him.

I was an invoice he was waiting to clear.

He didn't see my scars as a badge of courage.

He saw them as graffiti on his property.

I stood up.

My legs felt surprisingly steady.

The grief was gone.

The hope was gone.

All that was left was the cold, hard resolve of a woman who had nothing left to lose.

I walked away from the door.

I walked out of the hospital.

I got into my car and drove.

I didn't go back to the penthouse.

I drove to the bridge.

I pulled the engagement ring from my finger and hurled it into the Hudson River.

It sank without a sound.

The vow was broken.

Now, it was time to burn the rest.