The Screens Predict My Doom, I Rewrite The Script Chapter 02

The Screens Predict My Doom, I Rewrite The Script Chapter 02

Javier was clearly infuriated by my words.

He slammed his hand against the door to hold it open, but before he could speak, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Reese walked over carrying a fruit platter. The moment she saw us alone, her eyes welled with tears.

“Zuri… are you still blaming me for taking the engagement?” She wept, looking incredibly wronged. “I really didn’t mean to… If you like Javier, I… I can step aside…”

Mrs. Colon rushed over at the sound of the commotion, her brow furrowing deeply.

“Zuri! You just got back and you’re already causing drama? Reese is in fragile health; she can’t handle this stress!”

“How can you be so shameless? Throwing yourself at your sister’s fiancé in the middle of the night?”

[Oh snap! Caught red-handed! I bet the villainess is gonna expose her pregnancy right now to force his hand!]

[Classic fake-victim act—any second now she’s going to drop the act and go full-on hysterical.]

“I didn’t.” My voice was entirely flat. “If that’s all, I want to rest.”

Without another glance at any of them, I turned and shut the door.

Through the wood, I could hear Mrs. Colon comforting Reese. “There, there, sweetheart, I got your back…”

[Wait, no meltdown? No screaming match? What gives?]

[Wow, the villainess is a way better actress than I gave her credit for. She’s taken her game to a whole new level.]

The comments kept rolling, but I didn’t care to watch anymore.

My phone buzzed.

It was a wire transfer from Javier, and the amount was massive.

Right after, another text popped up: [Keep your mouth shut about the past, if only out of respect for everything I’ve done for you.]

Staring at the screen, a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

He was right. He had been my savior.

Five years ago, when I’d just graduated from high school, the grandmother who had taken me in fell gravely ill.

I had already been accepted into a decent university. But we were still way short on Grandma’s medical bills, so I decided to give up my place and keep working at the club instead.

That night, a group of men cornered me in a VIP lounge, drenching me in alcohol and tearing at my collar.

I fought back frantically, too terrified to even scream.

Javier had kicked the door open. He took them down in seconds and wrapped his suit jacket around my exposed body.

He didn’t ask any questions. He just said, “Need money?”

I nodded, my tears mixing with humiliation.

He handed me a card. “Take it. Go to college. And promise me you won’t come back to a place like this.”

He saved me, gave Grandma a fighting chance, and set me on a completely different path.

After that, he supported me through college and came to see me often.

Then, one rainy night, he stayed over at the small apartment I was renting.

What happened between us felt like the most natural thing in the world.

On her deathbed, Grandma held his hand and said, “Please take care of Zuri for me.”

He had nodded.

And I believed him.

Five years. From eighteen to twenty-three, I gave him the best years of my life.

I learned to manage his household, memorized every single one of his preferences, stayed quiet when he was tired, and offered comfort whenever he needed it.

I even learned how to taste wine, read financial reports, and understand the jargon of his elite circle.

He said his family was pressuring him to find a wife of equal standing, and that I should just hang on a little longer.

He said that once he had enough say in his family, he would acknowledge me publicly and marry me.

Yesterday, I found out I was pregnant. Before I could even tell him, the Colon family found me.

I thought our status gap was finally bridged.

But he told me that the person he always intended to marry was Reese.

And she wasn’t even the Colons’ biological daughter; she no longer shared his status.

My vision blurred.

Biting back the rising bitterness, I opened my email.

There was an unread message from three days ago—an acceptance letter for a master’s program at the Royal College of Art.

I clicked “Accept.”

I didn’t want Javier, I didn’t want this child, and I didn’t want those ridiculous five years anymore.

[Huh? What was she looking at? Was that a university website?]

[Who cares, she’s definitely plotting how to cling to him!]

[Can’t wait for the drama to escalate!]

The comments kept up their self-righteous guessing.

I locked my screen, letting the darkness swallow my blurred reflection.