The Price of Your Love: No Forgiveness

A human life. Less valuable than a single meal for the woman he loved.

Because I refused to cook for her, he cut off my dying mother's cancer treatment.

I knelt in the snow all night, burning with fever, begging him.

He blocked my number and took her to France.

Two days later, my mother died in agony.

I buried her. I packed my grief away. I asked him to break up.

Christian laughed, the arrogant heir. "Stop the drama, Sage. Cook for Felicity. Apologize. I will forgive you."

He didn't know.

This time, I was done.

Chapter 1

The funeral was over. The ashes were cold.

I looked at him. My voice flat. Dead.

"Christian. We're done."

He didn't believe me. He thought he still owned my heart.

I could forgive the humiliation. The way he prioritized Felicity. The way he left me behind, again and again.

But not this.

He cut off Matilda's cancer treatment.

He knew. He knew she was terminal. He knew stopping meant death.

He did it anyway.

Because I wouldn't cook dinner.

It was laughable. My mother's life weighed against Felicity's mood and found wanting.

I went home. Packed my things.

Back at my rental, I realized my mistake. The painting.

It was my 18th birthday gift from her. Her last stroke of brilliance.

It was still in Christian's study.

I drove back to the villa. I thought the house was empty.

I opened the door. Christian and Felicity sat on the sofa. Suitcases everywhere. Fresh off a flight.

Christian looked up. His lips curled. A smirk.

"You finally decided to come back?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"Good timing. Felicity is staying for a few days. Go prep the guest room."

It was standard procedure. Whenever she stayed over, I served.

I didn't move.

Felicity smiledthat apologetic, fake smile. Her hands tightened around his arm, claiming him.

"Sage, I'm so sorry. Christian and I just got back from France. We can't be bothered to move. Thanks for helping out."

France.

While my mother was dying screaming in pain, they were in Paris.

Chapter 2

It started a week ago.

Felicity decided she wanted a home-cooked meal. My specialty.

I was running a 102 fever. Id spent the last twenty-four hours at the hospital, wiping sweat from Matildas forehead. I couldnt stand, let alone cook. So I said no.

Felicity pouted. The brat didn't get her way.

I dont know what she whispered in Christians ear.

The next morning, the notification hit my phone.

Treatment terminated.

Christians family owns the hospital. It has the best tech in the world. The best specialists. It was the only place that could keep her alive.

And he cut off her funding.

I called him. Again. And again.

Straight to voicemail.

Two days later, the pain took over. Matilda died screaming in agony. Right when I was in the most pain, right when I needed him the most.

I was there, holding her hand, watching the light go out.

And he was in France. With her.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I forced the tears back. I looked him dead in the eye.

"Christian. We are done."

"From this moment on, who you marry, who you buryit has nothing to do with me. Keep her drama away from me."

I didn't wait for a reaction.

I turned on my heel, walked into the study, and took the painting down.

I was passing through the living room when he stopped me. Wine glass in hand. That look of pure annoyance.

"Stop. Did I say you could leave?"

He took a step forward. The air in the room grew heavy.

"You think this is a hotel? You come and go when you please?"

His voice dropped. A cruel, velvet threat.

"If you dare take a step out of here today, Sage, you can wait to collect your mother's corpse."

I froze.

He knew. He knew exactly what Matilda meant to me.

He thought he still held the leash. That as long as she was breathing, I was his obedient little dog. He thought he could hurt me, use me, discard me for Felicity, and Id always come crawling back.

But the leash was cut.

I buried her with my own hands. And I buried us with her.

Christian saw my silence. He mistook it for submission. He lifted his chin. Arrogant. Entitled.

"I'm hungry. Go cook dinner for me and Felicity. Do a good job, and I might forgive your little tantrum."

The audacity. It was almost impressive.

I looked at him cold.

"Christian. Are you deaf? Or just stupid? I said we're broken up. You want me to cook for you?"

I let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"You think you're worthy?"

The room went silent.

In the past, I would have begged. I would have scraped my knees just to get a smile out of him. Never this tone. Never this look.

Christians face darkened.

"Sage. Don't push me. My patience has limits."

Oh, I knew.

Five years. He never coaxed me. Never apologized. Every fight ended with me apologizing.

Every date, I was thirty minutes early because Christian didn't wait.

I remembered the hike back when we first started dating.

"Wait here. Ten minutes. I'll get water."

The line was long. I was late.

When I got back, the spot was empty. He left me alone on the mountain without a word.

Chapter 3

After that, I learned to watch the clock. Obsessively.

Christian had no patience for me. But for her? Infinite.

She called. He flew to her side. Rain or shine. She made him wait for hours. He never frowned. He liked waiting for her.

Felicity stepped between us, the perfect shield.

"Sage," she chided, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Even if you don't want to cook, you shouldn't speak to Christian like that. Threatening a breakup? That's toxic. It's the number one rule you don't break in a relationship."

I let out a cold laugh.

"Who do you think you are? What happens between us is none of your damn business."

Her smile cracked. She bit her lip, trembling.

"I'm sorry, Sage. If I upset you..."

She deliberately took a step closer. A calculated stumble.

Splash.

Red wine. All over the canvas.

"Oh no!"

She gasped. She used her sleeve to wipe it, smearing the red stain, grinding the liquid into the delicate paper. Ruining it.

I saw it. The glint in her eye. Pure malice.

My vision blurred. The world narrowed down to that smirk. My arm moved before my brain could catch up.

Crack.

My palm collided with her cheek.

Dead silence.

Then chaos.

Christian moved, a blur of motion. He shoved her behind him. His fingers locked around my arm. A vice. Crushing the bone.

His eyes were ice.

"Sage. Who gave you the nerve? You hit her?"

Felicity clutched her face. Tears flowing on command.

"Sage, I didn't mean to! I really didn't! How much is it? I'll write you a check. I'll pay for it."

I looked up, fighting the sting in my eyes.

"Pay for it?" My voice broke. "Do you think money can fix this?"

Matilda was gone. That painting was the last piece of her soul.

Christian scoffed.

"This trash? I'll buy you a hundred more."

He snatched the painting from my hands. He grabbed a bottle and poured the rest of the wine, drowning the canvas.

Then he stepped on it.

His designer shoe crushed the center.

Crunch.

The sound of paper tearing. The sound of my chest ripping open.

I lunged at him.

"No! Give it back! It's hers!"

He didn't hesitate.

He kicked me. Hard.

I hit the floor.

He stomped. Again. And again.

Grinding the paper into pulp. Mixing the art with the dirt on his soles. He stood over me, a towering shadow.

"Now. Apologize to Felicity."

I didn't answer.

Crying, I crawled to the mess. With shaking hands, I gathered the wet, torn scraps. The frame was shattered. Sharp wood splinters sliced into my palms.

Blood mixed with the wine.

I didn't feel the sting. I only felt the cold void where my mother used to be.

I pulled the debris against my chest, holding on for dear life.

Chapter 4

Christian frowned. His fingers dug into my jaw, forcing my head up.

"Don't make me say it twice."

I slapped his hand away. Hard.

I looked at him. No love. No fear. Just pure, unadulterated loathing.

He froze. As if my gaze physically burned him. His hand dropped.

I didn't look at him again. I looked at the soggy mess in my lap.

*Mom. I'm so sorry. I'm useless. I couldn't even protect the one thing you left me.*

Christian stepped forward. His hand reached out, hovering, as if he wanted to pull me up.

"Christian..." Felicity's voice whined, cutting through the tension. "My face hurts. Is it swelling?"

She tilted her head. Her skin was delicate. I had put all my strength into that slap, leaving a mark. A bright red handprint on her pale cheek.

Christians moment of hesitation vanished. He looked at her face, and the anger rushed back.

"Sage. I've spoiled you. That's the problem."

He glared at me.

"One last chance. Apologize to Felicity."

I stared at him. "And if I don't?"

Christian narrowed his eyes. He played his ace card.

"Don't you want to save your mother?"

Silence.

Then, a sound bubbled up in my throat.

A laugh.

It started low, then exploded. I laughed until my chest ached. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, uncontrollable, hysterical.

Christian looked unsettled. "What are you laughing at?"

I wiped a tear from my eye, smearing the blood on my cheek. I looked at him with a sneer.

"I'm laughing at you, Christian. I'm laughing because you're an idiot."

"You're blind. You're deaf. You think I'm still the old Sage? The one who would wag her tail like a dog just because you whistled?"

"If you had bothered to ask a single question... if you had checked even once... you wouldn't be standing there using such a stupid, empty threat."

If Matilda were still alive? I would be on my knees. I would have slammed my forehead against the floor until it bled if it meant saving her.

But he had no leverage anymore. He couldn't kill a corpse.

Felicity stomped her foot. "Christian! I told you! She's not fit for you."

She glared at me. "If her mom was really that sick, would she be acting like this? She's probably lying about the whole thing."

"I would have to be insane to lie about that!"

"Shut up!" I snapped.

My mother lost her hair in clumps. She couldn't sleep without morphine. I watched her waste away.

Christian knew that. He saw the reports.

But he didn't correct her. He didn't defend the truth.

He just looked at me, issuing his final ultimatum.

"Sage. Apologize to Felicity now, and I'll pretend none of this happened."

I looked him in the eye.

"In your dreams."

Chapter 5

My defiance finally cracked his composure.

He let out a short, sharp laugh. His lips curled into a cruel smile.

"I found the best specialists in the country for Matilda. If you had just been a good girl, I would have let them save her."

He shook his head, looking at me like a disappointed parent.

"But you're such a disappointment, Sage. If I don't teach you a lesson now, you'll never learn."

He pulled out his phone. Tapped the screen.

He glanced at me. Lazy. Arrogant. Waiting for the break. Waiting for me to drop to my knees and beg.

I stared back. Face blank.

*Do it, I thought. Press the button. I want to see how far you'll go.*

I was done with his face. That smug, winning look of a clown. It made me sick.

Christian waited. Silence stretched.

No begging. No tears.

His grip on the phone tightened. Veins popped along his forearm.

He hit the call button.

His voice was ice.

"Cancel the consultation for Matilda tomorrow. The experts? Tell them to go home. We don't need them."

There was a pause.

Then Coopers voice, confused and hesitant, leaked from the speaker.

"Mr. Christian? Didn't you know? Miss Sage's mother... she passed away."

"What