She’s the Obstacle, He’s the Hero, I’m Just the Plot They’re Skipping Chapter 11

She’s the Obstacle, He’s the Hero, I’m Just the Plot They’re Skipping Chapter 11

Chloe wheeled me out to the back garden.

The grounds emptied out around us, path by path, until no one was left. “Stop.” My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “Or I’m hitting the emergency button on this chair.”

She stopped.

I exhaled through my teeth. If she wasn’t going to say anything, I would.

“Look — I’m not your enemy, Chloe. And I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop acting like I am.

“You can see what’s happening to me. I don’t have much time left. Honestly.

“You love him, right? Then you know him. Whatever he’s doing for me right now, it’s guilt. Obligation. That’s all.

“So stop wasting your energy on me and put it where it actually matters, on him. Things like this take time.

“He chose to be with you. He’s already spending a fortune on you. That means something — you know it does. So why are you so worried?”

Behind me, Chloe went so still I could barely hear her breathe.

Not being able to see her face made the silence worse.

I’d said everything I could think of. It had to be enough.

The silence stretched. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely there.

“Olivia — did you know I’m an orphan too?”

My heart skipped.

She went on.

“I learned young that nobody hands you anything. People like us, if we don’t claw for what we want, we get nothing.”

“And then there’s you. We came out of the same mud, Olivia. So how come you get to walk around like you were born with everything?

“You walk around like you don’t even want it — like it doesn’t matter either way. And somehow, everything good still falls right into your lap.”

Every alarm in my head went off at once.

I slammed my thumb down on the emergency button. Nothing happened.

Chloe started pushing me again, straight toward the observation deck.

Below the deck, the facility’s gardens spread out in a blaze of late-autumn color — golds, deep reds, rust orange. Beautiful. And completely deserted.

Staff patrolled these walkways around the clock. Not today.

Something in Chloe’s voice softened, like she could smell my fear.

“Don’t bother looking. I burned my last system points wiping the security feeds, disabling the alarm, clearing everyone out of range.

“There’s no one. Scream all you want — it won’t reach anyone.

“Every point I had, spent. Blocking the real comments, feeding you fake ones, making your body worse. That was all me.

“Ethan really believed that if he cooperated with my mission, I’d use the points to cure you.” She laughed. “God, what a joke.

“I don’t give up what’s mine. Ever.”

The pieces were falling into place, and every single one of them was horrifying.

We’d reached the pavilion at the crest of the hill. Chloe locked my wheels, stepped around to face me, and looked over the railing. Whatever she saw below made her nod.

Then she turned back to me, and her eyes were lit up like something inside her had finally caught fire.

“Olivia, let’s finish this the right way.

“You said you don’t care about him. So do me one last favor and prove it. As long as you’re breathing, his heart keeps choosing you. You’ve left me no other option.

“I was going to wait for you to die on your own, but you just won’t, and my mission is running out of time.

“Apparently, when there are too many minor worlds active, the system has a twelve percent chance of failing to register a player killing a character.”

“If this doesn’t work, I’ve got nothing to go back to anyway.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Let’s roll the dice.”

She scooped me up like I weighed nothing.

I fought her — every muscle I could still command, straining all at once. It was nothing. Barely a twitch. Weaker than a kitten.

Chloe gave me a small, apologetic smile — the kind you’d give a stranger after bumping into them on the street.

“Goodbye.”

Her arms swung up. The sky tilted. She threw me over the railing.

The fall lasted a second, maybe two. My thoughts broke apart midair, shattering like shrapnel, nothing coherent.

The last thing that cut through the rush of air was one stupid thought — the trial. I never finished the trial.

…

The impact I’d braced for never came. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Arthur’s face.