After He Deleted My Fingerprint the Ninth Time, I Won't Marry

1: 1

At the housewarming for our new home, everyone started egging each other on to play the King's Game.

The childhood friend who drew the King card laughed and gave the order:

Number Five, open the smart door lock and delete the least important fingerprint in it.

Russ Delgado flipped over his number card. It was Five.

He looked down, tapped a few times, and my phone lit up with a notification:

Your door access has been revoked.

Over the roar of laughter in the room, he pulled me into his arms as if it were nothing.

"Don't be upset. They're just messing around."

"After the party's over, I'll register you again."

This was the ninth time he'd deleted my fingerprint.

Every time he re-entered it, he'd kiss my forehead and say,

"You can come by whenever you want. There will always be a place for you here."

But the next time I stood outside that door, what greeted me was always the same line:

This fingerprint has no access.

I was about to ask him how long this newly registered fingerprint would last, when the childhood friend laughed out loud.

"Russ, you still haven't given your wife permanent access?"

"When Lucy Winfield moved in last month, didn't you just register her straight in as the lady of the house?"

The whole room went silent.

I looked at the door-lock account.

In the row for permanent residents, another woman's name stood out plainly.

Russ was quiet for a moment, then his tone turned almost impatient.

"Lucy just got back to the country. She has nowhere to stay for now."

"You don't even live here much. What difference does permanent access make?"

I didn't say anything else. I just slid the ring off my ring finger and set it in his palm.

Then I turned and called the agent.

"That marital home. Put it up for sale tonight."

Russ stared at the diamond ring in his palm, frozen for two seconds, brows drawn tight.

The few friends who'd been drinking in the living room stopped, all their eyes landing on me.

Russ stepped forward and grabbed my wrist.

"Olivia Henson, it's just door-lock access. Do you really have to take off your ring in front of all these people and blow it up like this?"

I looked at him and said nothing.

Lucy, sitting on the sofa, set down her glass.

"Olivia, don't get the wrong idea. I'm only staying temporarily. Russ registered my fingerprint because he didn't want it to be a hassle for me to come and go."

"If it bothers you, I'll move out tomorrow and stay at a hotel."

She started to get up as she spoke.

Russ immediately let go of my hand, turned, and walked over to press her back down by the shoulders.

"A girl like you, staying at a hotel? This is your home."

Then he turned his head, eyes fixed on me, his tone hard.

"Lucy's only staying a few days. Are you only satisfied if you force her out in front of all these people?"

"I registered the fingerprint. If you've got a problem, take it up with me. Don't make things hard for her."

Russ and I had each paid half the price of this house.

And now I didn't even have the right to register my fingerprint on the front door.

I gave him a glance, turned, and walked into the master bedroom.

I pulled open the drawer, took out the purchase contract, and slipped it into my handbag.

Russ heard the movement and came to the bedroom doorway.

Seeing that I was getting ready to leave, his face shifted.

He took two steps forward and reached out to grab my arm.

Lucy's voice came from the living room.

"Russ my stomach hurts so much. Maybe it's from the iced champagne I just had. A cramp."

Russ stopped and turned, hurrying back toward the living room.

I'd just walked out of the bedroom, right into the hallway, in his way.

Without a second thought, Russ shoved me aside.

The force sent me stumbling back two steps, and the small of my back slammed hard into the corner of the solid-wood cabinet in the hall.

The pain spread instantly.

I leaned against the cabinet and sucked in a sharp breath.

Russ had already crossed to the sofa, steadying Lucy by the arm.

He turned his head and shouted at me,

"What are you still standing there for? Go get a glass of hot water from the kitchen!"

The sharp pain in my lower back dragged a throbbing ache down into my belly, wave after wave.

I clutched my stomach, hurting too much to catch my breath.

Seeing that I didn't move, Russ simply bent down, scooped Lucy up, and strode for the door.

"Forget it, can't count on you! I'll take her to the hospital."

He carried her out.

The security door slammed shut with a bang.

Five seconds later, the smart lock gave a beep as it locked.

The friends could tell something was wrong and left one after another.

The living room was empty.

By the entryway, Lucy's high heels lay kicked off across the floor.

Her coat had been tossed on the sofa, and her half-finished champagne still sat on the coffee table.

Enduring the pain, I took out my phone and called a real estate agent I knew.

"Kieran Finch, this place downtown. I need you to list it for sale right away."

"Yes, urgent sale. Two hundred thousand under market is fine, as long as you find a buyer as fast as possible."

The call ended and the screen went dark.

I pressed a hand to my stomach and gripped my bag tight.

I pushed open the front door and walked out without looking back.

2: 2

The next day, I took a cab downtown by myself to the bridal shop.

The wedding had been set for the following month. Since there was no longer any reason to hold it, the gown obviously had to go back too.

The moment I stepped inside, I heard a familiar voice coming from the VIP fitting room.

I followed the sound and found the door left ajar.

Through the gap, I saw Lucy standing in front of the full-length mirror, wearing my main gown.

That gown had taken me half a year to settle on.

From the curve of the neckline to every last tiny crystal along the hem, all of it was something the designer and I had gone over again and again.

The day I went in for the fitting, Russ had a last-minute meeting and didn't come.

Afterward I sent him the photos, and three hours later he replied with a single "Nice."

Yet now he was standing right behind Lucy, patiently adjusting the sheer fabric at her waist.

Lucy turned, looked at herself in the mirror, and laughed.

"Russ, the waist is a little tight."

"Then again, Olivia never works out, she's kind of shapeless, so this probably wouldn't fill out on her anyway."

Russ studied her reflection and actually nodded, in all seriousness.

"True. It really does look better with your figure."

"We'll have the size taken in, and you can wear it to the dinner next week."

I pushed the door open.

It banged against the wall, and both of them turned at the same time.

Russ let go fast, took half a step back, and started explaining.

"I was worried you were still upset over last night and wouldn't come try it on, so I had Lucy check the fit for you first."

I looked at that gown on Lucy's body, and my stomach turned.

"No need to try anything on."

"I don't want this gown anymore. Return it."

The smile on Lucy's face dimmed a little.

She gathered up the skirt and came toward me. "Olivia, don't be angry, I'll take it off right now"

When she reached me, Lucy suddenly seized my wrist, let herself fall backward using my arm for leverage, and at the same time shoved me hard toward the full-length mirror behind me.

"Olivia, why did you push me?"

Caught completely off guard, I staggered back a couple of steps.

My back slammed into the mirror, and the glass shattered with a sharp crack.

Cracks spread out fast, and a jagged shard sliced straight into my calf.

Blood ran down my skin and dripped, one drop after another, onto the snow-white carpet.

Russ rushed over instantly.

Only to pull Lucy in and shield her against him.

"Lucy, are you hurt?"

He checked her over, and once he confirmed she was fine, he turned to look at me where I sat on the floor.

His eyes swept across my bleeding calf, and his brows drew tight.

"Olivia Henson, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Lucy was kind enough to help you try on the gown, and you shove her?"

He stood in front of Lucy, and from start to finish he never once reached out a hand to me.

The pain in my leg slowly gave way to numbness.

I braced against the wall, avoiding the glass scattered across the floor, and steadied myself back onto my feet.

"There are cameras in this shop. If you want to know who pushed who, go check them yourself."

Russ's expression stalled for a moment.

Lucy clutched at his sleeve and said softly, "Let it go. It was all my fault."

I didn't stay to hear the rest. I turned and walked out.

I had barely made it out the door when a dragging pain hit my abdomen.

The cut on my leg was still bleeding. I forced myself a few more steps, and then everything in front of me started going white.

As my body lost its balance, someone caught me in time.

"Careful, Ms. Henson."

I looked up and recognized him: Quinn James, of James Group.

He handed me a handkerchief and turned to instruct the assistant behind him, "The nearest hospital."

When he looked back at me, his voice was certain.

"If Delgado Group isn't worth any more of your effort, James Group would welcome you anytime, the real force behind the scenes."

The pain left me cold all over, yet my mind was strangely clear.

I took the handkerchief and closed my fist around it.

"All right. I'll start tomorrow."

3: 3

After the hospital bandaged the cut on my leg, I took a cab straight to Delgado Group.

Through all those years I spent building the company with Russ, every core proposal I'd drafted from scratch, every project file, was locked in the safe in the president's office.

Take them, and we could cut ourselves apart clean.

The moment I reached the turnstiles, the screen lit up red.

This employee has no access authorization.

The receptionist looked awkward. "Ms. Henson, Mr. Delgado said you haven't been feeling well lately, so you don't need to come in for now."

I called the head of administration and had him open the gate, then went straight up to the top floor.

The door to the president's office stood ajar.

Lucy was sitting in Russ's chair, and Russ was leaning over her from behind, his hand over hers as he worked the computer.

"Russ, when we take this to James Group tomorrow, they won't figure out that Olivia was the one who actually wrote this proposal, will they?"

Russ's tone was gentle. "The plan's in the company system, so it's company property. You'll present it tomorrow, and I'll be right there helping you."

I pushed the door open.

They both turned at once.

Russ let go of Lucy's hand fast and frowned. "How did you get in?"

I didn't answer. I walked straight to the safe, entered the code, and packed every original draft inside into a document folder.

Russ pressed his hand against the door.

"Olivia Henson, do you really have to push things this far? Yesterday was just a small disagreement. You take those files now, are you trying to blow up tomorrow's investor meeting?"

I lifted my eyes to him.

"Deleting my access, canceling my account, putting Lucy in my place. That's a small disagreement?"

"Lucy's only helping out for a while. Your emotions have been unstable lately. Rest for a bit first. It's better for everyone."

Lucy came over holding a coffee.

"Olivia, don't get the wrong idea. If you don't want me staying at the company, I can leave right now."

As she passed me, her wrist tipped and the coffee spilled all over the carpet.

She let out a little cry, grabbed the industrial-strength cleaner off the desk, and sprayed the stain a dozen times in a row.

The sharp smell filled the whole office in an instant.

My breath caught, and my chest clamped down all at once.

I'd had severe asthma since childhood, and an irritating smell could trigger respiratory failure at any moment.

I clapped a hand over my nose and mouth and stumbled toward the window, but the floor-to-ceiling panes were all sealed shut, and the air conditioner was set to recirculate.

I yanked open a drawer looking for my backup inhaler. It was empty.

Lucy stood off to the side, pinching her nose, muttering, "It's just a little cleaner. Does it really have to be this dramatic?"

I couldn't speak anymore. All I could do was grip the desk and fight for air.

My vision blurred, my arms lost their strength, and the files on the desk went crashing to the floor.

Russ finally noticed something was wrong. He rushed over and swept me up.

"Where's your medicine?"

I clutched his sleeve with everything I had, but only a broken thread of air came out of my throat.

He carried me toward the door.

Behind us, Lucy suddenly cried out in pain.

She'd stepped on the shattered coffee cup, and a cut opened on the sole of her foot, blood quickly soaking through her stockings.

"Russ, my foot hurts so much. I still have to present at James Group tomorrow. What if the wound gets infected?"

Russ stopped walking.

He looked down at me, already convulsing from the lack of oxygen, then turned to look at Lucy sitting on the floor crying.

Ten seconds later, he bent down and dumped me into the arms of the assistant who'd just arrived.

He told the assistant coldly to take me to the hospital.

"Her asthma's acting up. You take her in. Lucy has to present tomorrow, and her foot can't wait. I'll get her out of here first."

With that, he scooped Lucy up and strode into the private elevator.

The doors slid slowly shut.

Lucy lay against his chest, watching me through the closing gap, one corner of her mouth curling into a smile.

The assistant hauled me into the car right away and hit the gas.

The car raced down the long, congested street.

I gripped the seat under me with both hands, the lack of oxygen turning everything to black and white.

A violent, dragging pain tore through my abdomen.

The next second, something warm and wet gushed from between my legs and spread red across my dress.

4: 4

I woke from the blackout to the sharp reek of disinfectant filling the room.

When the doctor saw me open my eyes, he let out a sigh.

Ms. Henson, you were eight weeks along. The asthma attack cut off your oxygen for too long, and we couldn't save the baby.

The D&C just finished. You'll need to stay in bed and rest for the next few days.

I sat propped against the pillows, dazed, my hand drifting on its own to my flat stomach.

Eight weeks.

A life that never got the chance to see the world, gone now into a smear of blood.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed once.

Numbly, I picked it up.

What sprang onto the screen was a post Russ's assistant had just put up:

Celebrating early for the big investment Mr. Delgado lands tomorrow! Thank you for all your hard work, Lucy~

Location tagged: the fanciest restaurant in the building right below the office.

I had just lost my child, and they were raising glasses to the moment they'd stepped over me to get ahead.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I reached over and pulled the IV needle out of the back of my hand.

Fighting through the knife-twist of pain in my belly, I got a cab to that restaurant.

I reached the door of the VIP room, and through the gap where it stood half open, the sight in front of me turned my stomach.

Lucy was half draped in Russ's arms, one finger hooked around his tie.

Russ bent his head and, with sickening tenderness, kissed away the smudge of red wine at the corner of her lips.

Russ, tomorrow when I take Olivia's proposal to James Group and land the investment, are you really going to transfer all her shares to me?

Russ tightened his arm around her waist, his voice full of contempt.

The second that funding's in hand tomorrow, I'm cutting her out for good.

From then on, the only woman running this company at my side is you.

I pushed the door open and looked coldly at the two of them.

Hearing the sound, Russ raised his head.

When he saw it was me, he froze for a beat, then shoved Lucy away and his face darkened at once.

Olivia, you followed me here?

So you had an asthma attack and went to the hospital. Is that any reason to come checking up on me?

I walked to the table, picked up the bottle of red wine they'd just opened, and poured it straight over the proposal lying beside it.

The dark red soaked through the pages in an instant.

Russ shoved me hard and scrambled to grab the documents off the table.

Olivia, have you lost your mind!

I was already weak, and the shove sent me into the back of a chair, a warm, metallic taste rising in my throat.

He rubbed frantically at the wine on the paper, but the writing had already blurred beyond reading.

He slammed the ruined sheets down on the table, his face livid.

That's the master draft for tomorrow's hundred-million investment! You won't be satisfied until you've destroyed the company, will you!

Seeing the documents were beyond saving, he had no time left to spend on me, and yanked Lucy up to hurry out the door.

Come on, back to the office to reformat and reprint it!

Just before he left, he turned and fixed his eyes on me:

Tomorrow, once I land James Group's investment and cut you out for good, don't come crying and begging me!

The door of the private room slammed shut.

Bracing myself against the corner of the table, I slowly straightened up and calmly dialed Quinn James.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

Looking out at the night beyond the floor-to-ceiling window, I spoke calmly:

Mr. James, tomorrow's investment review for James Group, I'll be handling it personally.