The event was the opposite of what she told me.
The venue was grand—marble floors, gilded walls, and a Lotus chandelier that sparkled too bright for my tired eyes. The painkillers were making me drowsy. My cane clicked softly against the floor, a sound too rhythmic to ignore in such an elegant crowd.
Everyone was here for The Whispers of Words Written—not my version, but the bestseller by Elena Marie.
I walked—more like stumbled—to one of the tables hidden behind a potted plant. I felt small. Out of place. I watched Elena signing books and sipping champagne like she belonged. And maybe she did. I sold the story to her. Fair and square. I needed the money—for my legs, for a future that was quickly slipping away.
"Penny? Is that you?"
The shrill voice stopped my heart. I turned slowly. Miss Royce.
"Miss Royce," I said, forcing a polite smile. "How are you?"
"Never better." She dropped an empty glass onto the table. She was drunk.
"Did you get an invite," her companion asked, giggling, "or crawl your way in?"
They burst out laughing.
"Elena's too kind for her own good," Miss Royce muttered. "You must regret it now, selling the book."
I did. But another part of me was glad it got the recognition it deserved.
"No," I said. "I'm happy for her. She worked hard to rewrite the whole plot."
She snickered and flagged down another glass of wine. Her eyelids drooped. She could barely stand.
"You must be thrilled, blaming that climbing accident on my husband," she hissed suddenly. Her words hit like a slap. I staggered back.
"I didn't falsely accuse him," I said, throat tightening. My chest ached. Tears stung my eyes. But I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of her.
"Seducing him wasn't enough? You had to go after our money too?" she sneered. "Well, bad for you—he got caught for tax fraud. Can't pay you a cent now."
That explained the silence after the court hearing.
"I always knew you were a conniving little bitch," she spat. "Now look at you. A useless cripple."
My vision blurred. I needed to get out. I turned—too late.
"Pen! I was looking all over for you!"
Elena. Gliding across the ballroom like a heroine in one of her books. She wrapped me in a hug. I nearly broke down.
"I wouldn't miss it," I said with a stiff smile. "It's not every day your story becomes a franchise."
"Miss Royce," Elena said coldly, "I hope you weren't giving Pen a hard time."
"We were just catching up," Miss Royce said, walking off with a scowl that would haunt me for days.
"We could've shared the royalties," Elena whispered, eyes warm and sharp. "It would've helped with your surgery. With the checkups."
"Maybe it hurt," I said, my smile cracking. "Seeing it reminded me of who I used to be. And maybe I knew you'd treat it better."
She patted my head and kissed my cheek. "Thank you."
"I shouldn't keep you from your guests," I said, stepping back. "I'll be at the bar if you need me."
The ache in my leg flared as I limped toward the bar. I needed a seat—and a drink.
Then I heard it.
"Is that her?" someone whispered—too loudly.
"The cripple who seduced Lila Martin's husband?"
"She bribed Elena. Gave her the book to shut her up."
I inhaled sharply, trying to swallow my tears. But one fell. Then another. A sob slipped out. I needed to get out.
"A whore."
"An attention seeker."
"A marital bomber."
Their whispers turned to laughter, buzzing in my ears. My cane shook in my grip as I left the ballroom, eyes burning, breath short, heart pounding.
"I wasn't expecting her to be here," someone snickered. "She's so brave."
"That's what she gets for trying to steal someone's husband," another voice joined. Lila's.
"You sign the divorce papers?"
"Yeah. Thanks to the prenup, more money's coming our way."
I froze.
I stepped into view, and what I saw shattered me.
Elena and Lila. Kissing. Laughing. Whole.
They turned, slowly, like villains caught mid-scene.
"Are you lost, Pen?" Elena said sweetly. "The bar's inside."
"You used me," I whispered, voice breaking. "You both used me."
"I was nearly assaulted. I almost lost my leg. And for what? So you could turn that bastard into a gold mine?" I screamed, breathless and broken.
"We'll share it," Lila said, waving her hand dismissively.
"We'll get your leg fixed," Elena added casually.
What about my reputation? My trauma? My pain?
I hurled my cane at Elena and ran.
Pain tore through my leg. My heart throbbed. I heard her screaming my name.
Then—
Screeching tires.
White. Nothing.