"Bella is wearing the 'Starlight' gown for the grand finale tonight."

Dominic spoke impatiently as he sped down the road.

"The waist is a bit tight. You need to fix it on-site. She is the star tonight; there can be no mistakes. And wipe that funeral look off your face—this is for the company!"

I watched the streetscape flashing by the window, my heart dead ashes. The "Starlight" was a piece I had stayed up all night to finish, even through my illness, inspired by an aurora I had never seen. Now, I was expected to kneel on the floor like a seamstress and alter it for the woman who had stolen my husband and my glory.

When we arrived at the venue, Bella was surrounded by a group of fashion editors. She was wearing the silver fringed gown; she was indeed ravishing, but that beauty carried the stench of stolen vanity.

Seeing me, she let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh, Hazel, you're finally here! Look, the waist doesn't fit quite right. Thank goodness Dom said you'd come help. After all, only you know how to serve the clothes best."

The people around us chuckled lightly.

"This is Dominic's invisible wife? I heard she studied design too?"

"Oh please, look at her. Where's the designer aura? She looks more like a hired hand."

Dominic handed me a sewing kit and shoved me forward. "Hurry up, we're close to opening."

Holding the needle and thread, I looked at Bella's gloating face and suddenly felt a wave of nausea. But I crouched down anyway. Not for them, but for the dress. I would not allow my work to appear on the runway with any flaws.

Once the gala began, the atmosphere grew lively. Someone suggested playing Truth or Dare.

The bottle spun to Bella. She giggled and chose Dare.

A male model next to her jeered, "Then go kiss the most handsome man here besides your 'platonic soulmate'!"

Bella's eyes darted around, but finally settled on me.

"Oh, Dom would get jealous if I kissed someone else. How about this? I'll pass this dare to Hazel! Hazel, if you drink those three shots of vodka on the table, it'll count as completing it for me. What do you say?"

Dominic frowned, but seeing Bella's pleading look, he immediately turned to me. "It's just a few drinks. Don't ruin everyone's fun."

I looked at the three glasses of hard liquor, my stomach throbbing dully. The doctor had said: no alcohol after surgery, or the consequences would be unthinkable.

"I can't drink. I just had stomach surgery," I refused calmly.

"Surgery?" Bella covered her mouth and laughed lightly. "Hazel, that excuse is pathetic. Your hands looked steady enough when you were fixing my dress just now. If you don't want to show respect, just say so."

Dominic's face darkened. "Hazel, don't throw a tantrum at an event like this. Drink it."

"If something happens to me, will you take responsibility?" I looked directly into his eyes.

"What could happen? Your tolerance isn't bad usually. Hurry up, don't embarrass Bella." He picked up a glass and forced it into my hand.

I looked at this man I had loved for five years. His eyes held only impatience and defensiveness for Bella, without a trace of concern for my life or death.

"Fine."

I took the glass and downed it. The spicy liquid slid down my throat like molten lava flowing over a freshly stitched wound.

One glass. Two glasses. Three glasses.

After the last one, I slammed the glass onto the table. Glass shards scattered, and a dead silence fell over the room.

Pain hit me like a tsunami. I clutched my abdomen, cold sweat instantly pouring down like rain. My vision began to blur; I swayed and fell backward, only to crash into a solid embrace.

"Are you crazy?" Lucas's voice exploded in my ear, filled with barely suppressed fury.

"Blood! She's vomiting blood!" someone screamed.