My Fiancee Risked a Fatal Allergy for His First Love

Chapter 3

My stomach churned with such disgust I could barely speak. Shoving him away, I glared icily. "Disgusting! Over my dead body will I marry you!"

Once again, we parted on bitter terms.

Back home, a message from my fiance popped up, and we exchanged a few words.

Just as I was about to set my phone down, a trending video notification caught my eye.

Dozens of men moved over her in a sickening rhythm, her face contorted in forced ecstasy. A flood of comments scrolled past.

A: [Damn, she 's insatiable, even a crowd can 't satisfy her.]

B: [That 's the painter, right? I bought one of her pieces last month.]

C: [Figures she 's an artist. Suck up to the right folks, and you 'll get the moon!]

I gripped the phone so hard my fingers ached. This was the video of my humiliation. I'd been drugged!

Gritting my teeth, I steadied my breathing and made a call, demanding the footage be taken down immediately.

No sooner had it been handled than a maid rushed in, tears streaming down her face.

"Kate! The studio...Mr. King's men are...!"

My heart skipped a beat. I sprinted like my life depended on it.

Inside, easels lay shattered like bones.

My canvases—ones I'd poured blood, sweat, and sleepless nights into—were now smeared with grotesque rainbows.

"Feeling better now? No stress to harm the baby, I hope?" Vincent gazed at Eva as if she were spun gold.

"Vincent!" I snarled through gritted teeth.

His eyes frosted over when they met mine. "Count yourself lucky this is all you're losing."

Eva shot me a smug look, then hurled a full bucket of paint onto the largest landscape hanging on the wall, the one he 'd sworn to protect.

"NO!" A raw scream ripped from my throat as I lunged, too late.

Vincent's face darkened. He darted forward, shielding me while scolding, "It's just a painting."

Those careless words stole my breath. Just a painting? This was my mother's final masterpiece. The one he'd once clung to, enduring kicks and punches from my stepmother's thugs, refusing to let go. All to preserve my last tangible memory of her. We'd bled for it.

The canvas's underside was crusted with our dried blood.

Yet now, the things that meant everything to me were nothing to him.

I shoved him away, vision burning red. Snatching a wooden rod, I swung at Eva, a guttural yell tearing loose. Vincent was a blur, pulling her into his arms.

The wooden rod struck Vincent's back with a sickening c***k, forcing a pained grunt from his lips. The blow reverberated up my arm, leaving it tingling and numb.

He shielded Eva fiercely, just as I'd once protected him with my own body.

I remembered him as that scrawny kid who'd break out in hives if a girl so much as touched him. The other children had tormented him, calling him a freak. One time when a pack of girls cornered him, I'd shoved him behind me and taken their blows until they scattered.

"I'll protect you forever." he'd whispered back then, small hands clutching my sleeves.

Now, the scene before me cut deeper than broken glass.

"Why'd you take the hit, you i***t?!" Eva shrieked.

Vincent didn't respond to her. Instead, he turned to me, his thumb brushing my cheek with unbearable gentleness. "Don't cry." he murmured. I tasted salt on my lips before realizing I was weeping.

"Tell me," I spat, voice trembling with rage, "did you know she's the one who leaked that video?"

My eyes flicked to the angry red welts on his fingers, his old allergy acting up, before I pointed accusingly at Eva. Vincent's face darkened as he whirled toward her.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about!" she stammered, shrinking behind him.

Vincent's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Eva wouldn't do that," he said, though his eyes flickered with doubt. "Enough. You're seeing ghosts where there are none."