The Caregiver's Revenge

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Two years.

Thats how long I spent being Xaviers hands, his legs, his entire world while he lay broken in that bed.

But the moment he could stand on his own, he didn't walk toward me.

He ran back to Quinn. The woman who left him to rot when he needed her most.

The headlines flashing across the screen call it a "love story for the ages." They say she never gave up on him. That true love waits.

I stand in the middle of the square, the massive LED screen painting my face with the glow of his live proposal.

My chest feels hollow. A vacuum where a heart used to be.

I reach into my coat pocket. My fingers curl around the cold metal band hiding there.

With a flick of my wrist, I toss it into the nearest trash can.

Clink.

The debt is paid.

I don't owe him a damn thing anymore.

Chapter 1

Times Square has come to a standstill.

Tourists, locals, even the guys in the Elmo costumeseveryone is frozen, necks craned upward.

Every single billboard, every massive LED screen that usually flashes ads for Coke or Broadway shows, has been hijacked.

They're all showing the same thing.

A live feed.

The resolution is so crisp I can see the shimmer of tears in Quinn's eyes.

The setup screams Xavier.

I recognize every detail. For the last few months of his recovery, while he was relearning how to walk, he was sketching this. Obsessing over it. He even designed the fireworks display himself.

I remember the night he showed me the drafts.

His fingers, cold as ice, had gripped the back of my neck. His thumb traced the sensitive skin there, making me shiver.

"What's your favorite flower, Sadie?" he asked, his voice low, intimate.

"Hyacinths," I whispered.

But the screens towering over me are exploding with red roses. An ocean of them.

And the woman standing in the center of that crimson sea isn't me.

It's Quinn. His ex. The celebrity fashion designer who's been gracing magazine covers while Xavier was learning to hold a spoon again.

I tilt my head back, watching calmly.

On screen, Xavier drops to one knee. The black velvet box in his hand snaps open. The diamond inside catches the light, blazing like a supernova.

I slip my hand into my coat pocket. My fingers brush against the cold, plain band I bought. Compared to that rock, mine is a joke. A piece of scrap metal.

"Oh my god!" a girl next to me squeals, clutching her friend's arm. "That's Xavier Sterling! The CEO! He looks so hot with his hair slicked back like that. They used to call him the Playboy of Manhattan, but look at him now. He is down bad."

"I heard when he was paralyzed for two years, Quinn dropped everything to take care of him," her friend gushes. "It's like a fairytale. True love wins!"

I rub my wrist silently.

The skin there is raised, a jagged, silvery scar. A souvenir from the time I caught Xavier when his dead weight was too much for his atrophy-weakened legs.

Back then, Quinn wasn't nursing him.

She had broken up with him via text and flown first class to Milan to "find herself."

The crowd holds its breath. The climax is here.

On the screen, Quinn looks down at the man kneeling before her. She does that perfect, camera-ready choke-up.

"Yes," she sobs. "I will."

Xavier slides the ring onto her finger. He stands, towering over her, and pulls her in for a kiss that looks like it belongs in a movie.

Boom.

Fireworks erupt over the Hudson, timed perfectly to their lips meeting.

It's not just New York watching. The whole country probably is. That's Xavier.

When he wants something, he makes sure the entire world knows it belongs to him.

The crowd goes wild. The girl next to me is vibrating with excitement. She grabs my wristright over the scarand squeezes hard.

"They are so perfect together! Aren't they?"

Pain shoots up my arm, sharp and familiar.

I force a smile. "Perfect."

She sees my facepale, drained of bloodand realizes she's hurting me. She lets go, her mouth opening to apologize.

But I've already turned away.

I walk through the cheering crowd, the sound of applause washing over me like static.

Behind me, the screens show them deepening the kiss. The world is celebrating their love.

I stop next to a grimy metal trash can on the corner of 42nd Street.

I crouch down, pretending to tie my shoe, just to breathe for a second. The air smells like roasted nuts and exhaust.

I stand up. I pull the dull, wide ring from my pocket.

It's ugly. It was too big for him anyway.

Thank god. I don't need to keep it anymore.

I drop it.

It lands on a pile of greasy wrappers with a dull thud.

My heart rate doesn't even spike. I've never felt this calm.

Not a single tear falls.

From this moment on.

The debt to the Sterling family. The debt to Xavier.

It's paid in full.

I got fired.

Well, "escorted out" is the polite term.

I used to have my own office on the top floor, right next to the CEO's suite. Now, I don't even have a desk.

Brenda from HR shoves a cardboard box into my arms. "Sadie, this is everything from your desk."

She looks around nervously, then lowers her voice. "Mr. Sterling gave the order personally. The severance package is huge, though. You should just go."

She's being nice.

I know Xavier. He didn't say "let her go."

He probably said, "Get her the hell out." Probably while leaning back in his leather chair, looking bored, like I was a fly he'd finally swatted.

I grip the box, the cardboard digging into my palms.

As I walk past what used to be my office, I see why I was evicted.

It's already been gutted.

It's Quinn's lounge now.

Sketches and fabric swatches are scattered everywhere.

And on the wall, where my meticulous schedule for Xavier used to hangevery physical therapy appointment, every medication time, every meetingthere's a massive blown-up photo of them.

Xavier and Quinn. Looking intimate. Untouchable.

I look down.

My knuckles are white against the cardboard box.

I take a breath.

I let go of the tension.

Whatever.

It's over.

Chapter 2

I stumble.

The cardboard box hits the pavement, spilling my life across the concrete.

The crowd is too dense. Too chaotic.

A sharp pain explodes in my right hand.

I look down. A stiletto heel has just driven into the back of my hand, grinding skin against bone.

The woman doesn't even notice. She, like everyone else, is surging toward the black SUV pulling up to the curb.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out, cradling my throbbing hand against my chest.

Through the wall of paparazzi, I see them.

Quinn is clinging to a man's arm.

She loves red. That crimson dress makes her look like a flame in the grey city.

But the man beside her burns brighter.

Xavier hates crowds. I can see the tension in his jaw, the way he turns his head away from the flashing lights. Yet, his arm is wrapped securely around Quinn, shielding her from the chaos.

A reporter shoves a microphone into Quinn's face.

"Ms. Jiang, the proposal has been trending #1 for a week. As the woman who won Xavier Sterling's heart, how does it feel?"

Quinn smiles. It's perfect. Practiced.

"I feel so lucky," she says, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "That during the two hardest years of his life, I was the one by his side."

Xavier Sterling. The Golden Boy of New York. Born at the summit.

Except for those two years after the crash. When he was paralyzed. When the world turned its back on him and treated him like a broken toy.

Anyone has more right to say that sentence than Quinn.

She didn't just leave. She hopped on a private jet to Milan before the doctors even finished the surgery.

I was the only one left in the wreckage.

It is a blatant, disgusting lie.

But Xavier doesn't correct her. He looks down at her, and his expression softens. He looks... happy.

He accepts the lie because he wants it to be true.

He looks at her like a wildfire finally finding its river.

Shutters click furiously. The press is eating up this moment of true love.

Then, Xavier turns his head.

His gaze cuts through the crowd, over the heads of the reporters, and locks onto mine.

His eyes are ice cold.

I don't look away. I stand there, amidst my scattered belongings, and I smile.

It's a small, faint thing. But it's real. I feel light.

Xavier frowns. Confusion flickers across his face.

Actually, I am lucky too.

I'm lucky that for those two hellish years, I was the one there.

Because now, the debt is paid.

Every last cent.

My Uber keeps canceling.

I crouch on the curb, pressing a hand into my stomach. The stress, the lack of foodmy blood sugar is crashing. My stomach feels like it's twisting into knots.

The hand that got stepped on is swelling up, angry and red. Blood is smearing onto my sleeve.

Quinn really is special to him.

I've known Xavier for years. Since we were kids. He's been linked to models, actresses, heiresses.

But Quinn is the only one he ever claimed publicly.

It makes sense. A second chance romance. The world loves a reunion.

A horn blasts in front of me.

I look up.

A sleek black car has pulled up to the curb, inches from my knees. The tinted window rolls down slowly.

Xavier.

He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, looking bored.

"Stomach acting up again?" he asks.

My eyelashes flutter.

He lets out a short, cruel laugh. His eyes are full of mockery.

"You deserve it."

I lower my gaze.

It's like we've traveled back in time. Two years ago, this was how he treated me.

He used to tell me that my existence was an act of charity.

I finally get it. The softness, the dependence he showed me while he was recovering... it was all an act. He was just terrified I would leave him to rot in his own filth.

I don't answer him.

Behind me, the click-clack of heels approaches.

Quinn hurries past me, opening the passenger door.

"Xavier, baby, sorry I'm late," she coos, sliding into the seat. "Those reporters are vultures. You shouldn't have walked ahead, you could have blocked them for me."

She reaches for her seatbelt and turns her head.

She sees me.

Her voice dies in her throat. Her face goes pale, the color draining right out of her cheeks.

She turns back to Xavier, her voice rising in panic.

"Xavier, drive. We're going to be late for the gala."

Xavier frowns, sensing her shift in mood but not understanding why.

I swallow the pain in my throat. I look up at him.

This is it. The last time we will ever speak.

"I watched the livestream," I say softly. "The setup... it was even more beautiful than the drafts you drew.

Except for the roses. But everything else was perfect."

I pause, letting the words settle in the air between us.

"I hope you two have a long, happy life."

Chapter 3

The smile wipes off Xaviers face.

His hand, resting on the open window frame, tightens.

Visibly.

The tendons in his forearm strain against the skin, turning bone-white. Like hes hearing a curse instead of a congratulation.

The platinum wedding band on his finger catches the streetlamps glare.

Its blinding.

I lower my eyes. I cant look at it. I cant look at the way hes looking at me.

"Xavier," Quinns voice cuts in. Soft, but laced with impatience. "Its getting late. Don't waste your breath on irrelevant people."

A shadow falls over me.

"Sadie," Xavier says. His voice is low, vibrating with a threat I don't understand. "You're going to regret this."

He waits for a reaction.

I give him nothing.

He scoffsa harsh, jagged sound.

The engine roars to life. He slams his foot on the gas, and the black car tears away from the curb, tires screeching against the asphalt.

I look up, watching the taillights bleed into the traffic.

He drives like he used to when he raced supercars. Aggressive. Reckless.

Even when I wish him well, he gets angry.

The man is sick.

But regret?

No.

Not this time.

My Uber is never coming.

I accept my fate, ready to limp to the subway, when my phone buzzes against my palm.

One message.

Where are you?

I hesitate. My thumb hovers over the screen.

Then, I send the location pin.

Thirty minutes later.

Im sitting in the back of a plush, leather-seated SUV.

My arm is extended, stiff and awkward.

Reid is leaning forward, his eyes lowered, focused entirely on my hand. Hes cleaning the wound where the stiletto pierced the skin.

He glances up. His gaze is dark, unreadable. "Hurt?"

I flinch as the antiseptic stings, my spine snapping straight. I shake my head.

Reid lowers his head again.

He blows gently on the raw skin.

The breath is cool. A stark contrast to the burning throb in my hand.

My fingers curl instinctively.

I widen my eyes. "I said it doesn't hurt."

Reid releases my wrist slowly.

"Didn't hear you," he drawls.

It feels like treason.

Im sitting with the enemy.

For as long as Ive been Xaviers shadow, Reid has been his nemesis. From fistfights in boarding school to hostile takeovers in the boardroom, theyve been at each others throats.

Especially during the two years Xavier was paralyzed. Reid nearly dismantled the Sterling empire piece by piece.

Technically, I have nothing to do with Xavier anymore.

But old habits die hard. The guilt sits heavy in my gut.

Reid leans back into the leather seat, looking effortlessly relaxed.

"There's a gala tonight," he says, examining his cuffs. "I need a plus-one."

I look down at my bandaged hand. "Is Xavier going to be there?"

"Mmhmm."

I stare out the window. It takes a long time for me to speak.

"If you're trying to use me to get under Xavier's skin... you're going to be disappointed," I say softly. "He doesn't care about me. At all."

Im just stating facts.

Reid is idly toying with a silver Zippo.

Click.

The flame flares up, illuminating the sharp angles of his knuckles.

"We'll see about that," he says.

I turn to the window, watching the city blur past.

A bitter smile touches my lips.

Im thinking about Xavier at seventeen.

Standing in the courtyard, surrounded by his rich friends, laughing with that cruel, careless arrogance.

"Sadie?" he scoffed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I could never like Sadie."

Reid is a perfectionist.

Im standing on a podium in a high-end boutique, exhausted. Weve been here for an hour.

Hes rejected a dozen couture gowns. Too frilly. Too plain. Too much.

I didn't want to go to this gala.

But I owe him.

When Xavier kicked me out of the Sterling mansion two weeks ago with nothing but the clothes on my back, it was Reids grandmother, Edith, who took me in.

If Reid wants a date, Ill be his date.

The attendant brings out a dress that looks like a galaxy woven into silk.

Silver. Shimmering.

I step out of the dressing room.

Reid looks up from his phone.

He freezes.

His eyes travel up from the hem to my face.

His Adam's apple bobs. A slow, heavy swallow.

"That's the one," he says. His voice is rougher than before.

I turn to the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

My breath hitches.

The girl in the reflection is a stranger.

For years, Ive been the background character. The grey blur behind Xaviers brilliance. Plain. Invisible.

But the woman in the mirror is... radiant.

I reach out, my fingertips brushing the cold glass, as if checking if shes real.

Reid steps up behind me.

I see him in the reflection. Hes holding a diamond necklace. A thin, glittering stream.

He moves the hair from my neck. His fingers graze my skin.

Heat.

Electric and sudden.

He fastens the clasp, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck.

His breath hits the shell of my ear. Hot. Intimate.

"Sadie," he murmurs, his eyes locking with mine in the mirror. "I'm not sending you in there just to spite them."

"I just want Xavier to realize something," Reid says, his voice low and smooth. "He wasn't just paralyzed in the legs. He was blind."

Chapter 4

Ive never been to a gala like this. Not as a guest.

For years, I was the one holding Xaviers coat, checking his schedule, fading into the wallpaper while he dazzled the room with some heiress on his arm.

We arrive late. Fashionably late.

Just before we step into the ballroom, I look up at Reid.

The chandeliers catch the sharp angle of his jaw. He looks devastating.

We step in.

A hush ripples through the room.

"Who is that with Reid?"

"I thought Reid never brought a plus-one."

"They look... incredible together."

A guy standing near the barone of Xaviers frat brothers from collegesquints at me. His eyes widen.

"Holy shit," he whispers, loud enough to carry. "Isn't that Xavier's plain little assistant?"

Crash.

The sound of shattering glass cuts through the murmurs.

I follow the noise