My Fiancé Chose Her,So I Buried Them Both

"Damn, look at those hips. Built to breed sons, that one!" "No kidding. Stacked front and back. Real piece of work." "You can tell from how she dresses. Total slut." Every taunt made the satisfaction in Brent's eyes run deeper. My stomach turned cold. I'd refused every match my family ever arranged—eight years I'd held on to Brent, eight years I'd chosen him over everything, and three times in those eight years the Delgado business had nearly gone under, and every single time I'd gone to my father on my knees to bail them out. Earlier this year Brent proposed, and I thought I'd finally gotten my happiness. Then the very next day his childhood sweetheart Gloria Fox flew back from overseas, and from that moment nothing between us was the same. The only reason I'd agreed to take over the Pruitt branch in Monterra City was to give Brent one last chance. To give us one last chance. Looking at him now, that wasn't necessary anymore. "If you still won't apologize, I'm going to get really upset…" Gloria pouted, tears spilling down her face like beads off a broken string. I swallowed my disgust and surged to my feet. My arm swung up and cracked across Gloria's face. Then I ripped the high-pressure water gun out of the man beside me, aimed it square at Gloria's chest, and slammed the trigger. Dirty water soaked through her dress instantly, her red bra showing through for everyone to see. "Don't run!" I kept the gun on her without letting up for a second. "It's a water festival, isn't it? You're supposed to get soaked! Come on!!" Gloria clutched her chest, shrieking as she scrambled into Brent's arms. My handprint was still on her face. I grabbed the shawl from Brent's hand and threw it over my own shoulders. One cold look at him, and I turned to leave. The kick hit the small of my back before I'd taken a step. Brent. Blinding pain tore outward from the base of my spine and flooded my whole body. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my chest. Three years ago, a rival faction kidnapped Brent. I brought every last one of my family's men from Kingsport to pull him out, and a knife went clean through the small of my back. Eighteen hours of surgery. Thirty-six steel pins just to hold me together. On the day I was discharged, Brent knelt in front of me. Told me he could never repay what I'd done for him. Not in this lifetime. For three years after that, every overcast day, every rainstorm, the pain locked me in place so completely I couldn't move—and every time, Brent would cancel everything, meetings, dinners, all of it, just to kneel beside me and hold warm compresses against my back, hour after hour. And now, for one woman, he'd driven his foot into that very spot. "Maya. I told you. Apologize—or you don't get to walk away from here clean." Brent's voice, ice-cold, dragged me back. He planted his foot on the small of my back. A crack. White-hot numbness and a searing ache ripped through my lower back at once, and I couldn't hold back the groan. I knew—somewhere in there, something had just given way. The doctor's words when I was discharged hit me like a wall: one more serious blow to that area and I'd never walk again. No one on earth could fix it. My father's voice on the phone moments ago echoed in my head. I clenched my teeth, looked up at Brent, and forced the words out through the shaking. "I was wr—" He cut me off before I could finish. "You want to apologize?! Too late!" His eyes were vicious. "Maya, I let you run wild for eight years. Today I'm putting you back in your place." He glanced behind him. Dozens of water guns swung toward me in unison. The jets hit all at once, slamming into my face and body like whips.

The blast knocked me flat. Brent grabbed Gloria's hand, aimed the water gun she was holding straight at my face, and water hammered up into my nose and ears, a vicious burning sting that set everything on fire at once. I tried to get up, but the pressure blurred my vision completely. I didn't even have the strength to lift my head. All I could do was lie there while the freezing jets slammed into me, every impact tearing through me under all that force. Gloria watched me floundering and let out peal after peal of shrill laughter. The moment she started laughing, Brent finally stopped. He wrapped an arm around Gloria's waist, his voice going so soft it was nauseating. "Happy now, Gloria?" "When have I ever not been happy with what you do for me..." Her coy little whine drew a smug laugh out of Brent, but before the sound even faded, Gloria's expression crumpled into wounded innocence. "But..." Brent's smile vanished instantly. "But what?" "Don't be scared, Gloria. I'm right here. Tell me what's wrong." Gloria clasped the hand he had on her waist, stroking the back of it over and over, her voice sweet and helpless. "My clothes got soaked because of her just now... I'm so cold..." "That's nothing. I'll take you to the mall right now and buy you something new." "No." Gloria pointed at me, tugging Brent's arm with a little shake. "I want the one she's wearing. Right now." "Absolutely not!" I cut straight through her wheedling. This gown was the Pruitt family's heirloom, passed down with the leadership of the branch. The family regarded it the same way they regarded the family's honor itself. And this one, the one on my body, my late mother had altered stitch by stitch to fit me. My father had preserved it with painstaking care for twenty years, waiting for the day I took over the Pruitt branch in Monterra City and finally put it on. I clutched my shoulders and staggered to my feet, shaking uncontrollably from the icy cold soaking through every layer. Brent glanced in my direction, something shifting behind his eyes that I couldn't place. After a few seconds of silence, he pulled Gloria into his arms and murmured, "Gloria, that thing on her isn't anything special. The style went out of fashion ages ago." "Besides, it's drenched in dirty water. You'll catch a chill if you put it on. Let's forget about that one. I'll take you to get a brand-new—" "No!" Gloria wrenched herself out of his arms, and the tears came all at once. "I want hers! You won't give it to me because you feel sorry for her, is that it? She matters more to you than I do, doesn't she?!" "No, I just meant it's ugly and it's wet..." "I think it's beautiful! I don't care if it's wet, I want it!" Brent went rigid for two seconds. "You do feel sorry for her..." "I don't!" He snapped it out without hesitation, then turned on his heel to face me, his voice dropping cold. "Maya. You heard her. Gloria wants that dress. Take it off." I looked around at the wall of men packed tight on every side, then stared back at Brent, shaking, my voice cracking with disbelief. "You want me to take off my clothes... here?" "Take it off!" The words had barely left my mouth before the crowd around me erupted. They closed in, pressing tighter, eyes crawling over every line of my body. "Strip! Young Mr. Delgado told you to strip. What are you standing there for?!" "Young Mr. Delgado, thank you so much! If it weren't for you, when would we ever get the chance to see a body like that with nothing left to the imagination?"

The nearest man didn't wait for me to move. He grabbed the skirt of my gown. *Riiip!* One hard yank and the fabric split all the way to my armpit. A piercing cheer tore through the crowd. Brent saw it happen, strode over, and kicked the man to the ground, then stripped off his own jacket and threw it over me. He turned to Gloria. "Gloria, look—the dress is ruined anyway. Let's not—" "I want it!" Gloria cut him off again. She must have seen the hesitation still on his face, because she pulled a dagger from her clutch and pressed the blade straight to her own throat. Her whole body was trembling as she looked at him, her voice shaking. "Brent, my parents are dead—they died overseas. I only came back because you promised you'd protect me…" "And now you can't even do this one little thing for me? How am I supposed to trust you! I might as well just die…" "Don't!" Before Gloria could press the blade any harder, Brent lunged forward and closed his bare hand around the blade. Blood streamed down his wrist like a creek. Three years ago, the day I'd gone alone into a den of armed men to rescue him, he'd thrown his forearm into the path of a machete for me. He'd told me he would only ever bleed for me, for the rest of his life. Funny how that promise only had three years in it. "Brent, I don't want to put you in a hard spot…" "You're not!" Brent turned and walked straight toward me. "Gloria wants this dress? I'll strip it off her myself!" The words were barely out of his mouth before he reached down and ripped away the jacket he'd just draped over me. Then he grabbed the collar of the gown and tore downward. "Brent!" I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and locked both hands around his wrist. My eyes were bloodshot, fixed on his face, my voice raw and shaking. "You can't do this! My mother sewed this stitch by stitch—you know what it means to me…" Something flickered in his eyes. But right then, Gloria's teary, petulant whine rose again behind him. "Brent, I really don't see the point of being alive anymore. My mom and dad are gone, and anyone can just bully me whenever they want…" The hesitation in his hands vanished. His grip tightened. The look he gave me went cold. "Maya, you brought this on yourself! You're your mother's daughter—what, you think Gloria wasn't just as precious to hers?" "She sprayed me with a water gun first!" "That was a *blessing!*" "Maya, from the second Gloria came back you've fought her on everything. And you *still* don't see what you did wrong! I spoiled you—that's what this is. Today I'm going to fix that!" The moment the words left his mouth, his hands wrenched apart. *RIIIP!!* This time the gown split clean in two. Brent glanced around at the crowd. He saw the hunger in their eyes. He saw it clearly. And he shoved me away anyway, tearing my body free from the two ruined halves of fabric. Gasps cut through the air around me. I felt every greedy stare on my skin, swallowed down the nausea flooding my throat, and scrambled to the side to snatch up the shredded remains of the gown and press them against myself, covering what I could. But the second I managed it, Brent was already striding toward me again. He grabbed the other edge of the torn fabric. "Brent!" I stared him down, my voice a blade. "You'd destroy me like this over one woman's pathetic act? You'll die ugly for this." Touch me one more time, and you and that bitch won't even know how you died. "Oh?" Brent stopped. His fingers clamped down on my jaw, forcing my face up, and he studied me with open, mocking amusement. "Back to playing the big Miss Pruitt, are we? But this is Monterra City." Gloria strutted forward with her hands on her hips, took one look at the wreck of me, and let out a delicate little laugh behind her palm. "Sis, even if you call someone, what exactly are they going to do to us? All we did was splash a little water on you. It's the water festival! If people could die from getting splashed at a water festival, would there be any justice left in this world?" They were certain they hadn't broken any law. Certain that a pampered heiress from Kingsport had no power here. They wanted to use this moment to grind me, and the entire Pruitt family, under their heels. But they were so, so stupid. Because while they stood there running their mouths, spewing every filthy word they had, a hundred jet-black industrial water cannon trucks were rolling toward them across Starhaven Plaza. As the thundering roar of those hundred machines swelled behind me, I looked at Brent and Gloria and let the coldest smile I had spread across my face. Fine. You love playing with water so much? This lady will play with you properly today.