Rose Without Her Jack

Two days ago, when I returned to my parents' house, I saw Chloe on a video call with Mickey.

She called him Jack and mentioned the orphanage.

It felt like a bolt of thunder struck me in the chest.

That name—Jack—split something open inside me. The past, long buried and quiet, surged back like a tidal wave.

I wanted—no, needed—to confront her. But before I could, she knocked me out and locked me away.

She mocked my naivety, forced some drug down my throat that took my voice, stole my phone and every piece of ID I had, then staged a scene where she played the victim—left behind on a mountain by me.

And Mickey, of course, believed every word.

He was furious. Dragged me to the car like a criminal and dumped me in that cabin on the mountain.

I couldn't speak, only cry, pleading with him with my eyes.

He kicked me to the ground and said coldly, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day."

The wedding.

Our wedding.

It was in three days.

We've loved each other for five years. I'd spent every day hoping we'd build a home together.

But he just turned away and locked the door behind him, cutting off the last thread of hope I had.

I pounded on the door, again and again, praying he'd come back, that he'd change his mind. But what came instead were a few large, brutish men, their faces full of violence and cruel amusement.

Their filthy eyes, the twisted grins—they're etched in my mind.

I held my arms tight around myself, my gaze blank as I watched the couple in front of me, locked in an embrace.

Chloe's clothes had slipped halfway down. Her cheeks were flushed, fingers trailing softly across Mickey's chest.

Then, the phone rang.

Annoyed, Mickey frowned, but the persistent ringing left him no choice.

He kissed the corner of her lips. "Gimme a sec, let me take the call."

His eyes darkened as he saw the contact name.

"William," he said coldly. "This better be important, or I'm docking your pay."

On the other end, William's voice trembled, barely holding together.

"Sir… Wendy, she… she…"

He couldn't finish. Even a grown man like him, over six feet tall, looked like he might fall apart.

As the broken words came through the phone, Mickey's patience snapped. "William, spit it out! Or are you begging for a business trip to some remote place?"

William sucked in a breath, then blurted out, "No, sir—Wendy… she's dead."

Silence.

Total silence.

Even I heard it. The words were so clear.

No wonder William had sounded so scared—he'd opened the cabin.

After suffering a day and a night of torment, my limbs were bent unnaturally, and my bones were snapped. Blood had pooled beneath me like a lake. My eyes… were just hollow sockets now.

Even I was afraid of what I looked like.

I studied Mickey's face carefully, unwilling to miss even the smallest twitch of emotion.

We'd loved each other for five years. That was real.

I remember back in college, I once snapped at him over a competition. Yelled at him for nearly an hour.

He just pulled me into a gentle hug, asking softly if I was still mad. Said I could hit him if it made me feel better.

I'd laughed, right then, and kissed him.

But everything changed after he met Chloe.

He gave all his tenderness to her. All his trust. With me, there was only irritation and doubt.

Now that he knew I was dead, I wondered—would he feel something? Anything? Even just for a second?

But Mickey didn't flinch. He didn't show disbelief or sorrow.

Instead, he sneered.

"William, since when did you start working for Wendy? How much is she paying you to say this crap? You pull something like this again, and you're out."

He hung up.

Just like that.

I curled in on myself, pain radiating through my chest.

Mickey. My dear Jack…

You said you'd love me forever. That you'd be good to me for the rest of our lives.

But you broke your promise.