Chapter 3Frozen Hearts Do Not Thaw

The night of our company's annual gala, I was awarded Project Manager of the Year.

It was my final moment of recognition in this city.

Before I went up, Jess, a younger colleague, helped smooth down the hem of my dress. "This is your night, Norah. Enjoy it."

I smiled, keeping the secret that in seventy-two hours, I’d be gone.

The event was held at a high-end hotel downtown. When my name was called, the ballroom erupted into applause.

Standing under the warm spotlight with the heavy glass trophy in my hands, my eyes caught a familiar figure in the far corner of the room.

Elliott was here.

Bella was holding his arm, the two of them seated at a table near the back.

He had come, but not for me.

I looked away and focused on delivering my speech.

Afterward, colleagues swarmed me with congratulations. As I was clinking glasses with my director, a sweet, familiar voice sounded from behind.

"Norah! Congratulations!"

Bella walked up, holding a glass of juice, her smile bright. Elliott stood a step behind her, his face a cool, unreadable mask.

"Thank you," I said, offering a polite nod.

Bella stepped closer, leaning in to lower her voice so only I could hear.

"You're so successful, Norah. I'm honestly jealous. I’m so useless at everything, I have to rely on Elliott for literally everything." She paused, her eyes crinkling. "Hannah used to say the same thing—that you were the most fiercely independent woman she'd ever met."

Hannah again. Every time she invoked her sister's name, Elliott’s demeanor changed.

Sure enough, his jaw tightened instantly.

In the past, I would have swallowed my pride and stayed silent. But tonight was my last night in this room.

"Bella," I said, my voice quiet but perfectly clear. "Do you honestly believe you can replace your sister?"

Her smile froze.

"To Elliott, Hannah is an untouched memory. But you?" I took a slow sip of my wine. "You're just a convenient shadow he keeps around so he doesn't have to let her go."

Bella’s face drained of color. Her eyes welled with tears as she turned to Elliott. "Elliott..."

Elliott’s expression turned incredibly dark. He glared at me, his eyes cold as ice.

"Norah, what did you just say?"

"I'm just speaking the truth."

He let out a harsh laugh, turned on his heel, and walked straight toward the podium at the front.

I didn't realize what he was planning until he picked up the microphone.

The room fell into a hush.

"Excuse me, everyone," his voice carried through the speakers, quiet but loud enough for every ear in the room. "Regarding the project that was just awarded, I’d like to clarify something. The sustainable research station project that Norah managed actually relied heavily on Bella's data modeling in the early stages. The credit shouldn't go to just one person."

A collective murmur swept through the crowd.

Dozens of eyes shifted to me.

My fingers went white around the glass of my trophy.

It was a lie.

I had spent eight grueling months working on that project entirely on my own. Bella had merely handled basic logistics; she had never even touched the database.

But Elliott had said it. In front of my entire company.

At the peak of my professional achievement, he had personally dragged me down from the pedestal and thrown me into the dirt.

The whispers rose like a tide.

"So she didn't even do it herself?"

"That explains why Bella was so quiet about it..."

"How humiliating..."

Bella stood behind Elliott, her head bowed, her shoulders trembling slightly as if she were crying.

It was an Oscar-worthy performance.

I stood frozen, a crushing pain squeezing my chest.

Not because of the lost credit. Because of him.

He could ignore me, he could withhold his love, he could treat Bella like royalty. But he had no right to take away the one thing I had left—my dignity, my hard work—and ruin it in front of everyone.

I quietly set my glass down and walked out.

I didn't explain, and I didn't argue.

As I pushed open the exit doors, my phone buzzed.

A text from my lawyer: The petition has been filed. His refusal to sign won't halt the proceedings.

Right beneath it was a system notification: Your transfer paperwork is complete. Please report to the Charleston branch within 72 hours.

Seventy-two hours. Three days.

Leaning against the cold corridor wall, my leg shook with pain, and my eyes burned.

In three days, none of this would matter anymore.