Goodbye to You All

Everyone knew—Jessica Conway had always adored Jack Murray. They were high school lovers, and everyone just assumed they would get married eventually and live happily ever after. But then, there was Abby Conway, Jessica's elder sister who was "gravely ill." On the eve of Jessica and Jack's wedding, he said, "Jess, your sister's really really sick. Let's give her a chance to be the bride for now, alright? You know you're the one I love." Abby echoed, "Jess, promise me you'll come to the wedding, okay?" Jessica clutched the stomach cancer diagnosis in her hands and said nothing. On the wedding day, she never showed up. Jack, realizing her absence, abandoned the ceremony and rushed home—only to find the house empty. The only thing left behind was a single sheet of paper: her final diagnosis. For three days and three nights, Jack knelt before Jessica, begging for a second chance. But she never forgave him. Not even in death. Chapter 1 "Jessica, HQ just sent out a notice. They want to send you to Paris for advanced training. In six months, you'll be competing in the Global Fashion Designers' Competition. You’d have to leave in a week. Do you want to go? It’s totally up to you. After all, your wedding with Jack is on the same day. Marriage is a big deal—it should come first." Jessica had just stepped out of the bathroom, her face pale and drained. The moment she sat down in her dull grey and white room, her phone rang. It was Kelly Winfrey, her boss. She didn't respond immediately. Through the receiver, she could hear Kelly's steady breathing, waiting. Just as Kelly was about to give up and consider another candidate, Jessica spoke. "I'll go. As for my wedding with Jack, I'll take care of it in the next few days." "Wait…" Kelly hadn't expected her to agree. She hesitated for a moment, then failed to hide the excitement creeping into her voice. "You're really going?" Jessica's gaze drifted toward the group not far from her—people gathered around, singing birthday songs, sharing cake, their laughter filling the air. She swallowed down the bitterness rising in her chest. When she spoke again, her voice was steady. "Yes. I'll handle everything within these seven days. Tell HQ not to worry." Then, she hung up. Some things needed to end. The intrusive hum of the music from the speakers grew louder, making her head throb. She turned to head back to her bedroom, but before she could take a step, Abby approached, carrying a plate of cake. She smiled warmly. "Jess, have some of my birthday cake. Mom and Dad bought it just for me. Wasn't your birthday yesterday? They never buy cakes for you, do they? You can have mine." Jessica's face darkened. Her voice turned cold. "I don't want it. It's your cake, you eat it. I'm going to my room." She stepped past Abby, wanting nothing more than to leave. But in the next instant, Abby let out a strange little smile. Then—without warning—she smashed the cake into her own face. With a sharp gasp, she stumbled backward, knocking into the coffee table. Glasses and cups crashed to the floor, shattering upon impact. Shards of glass scattered everywhere, some piercing her hands. The cake, now a mess of cream and crumbs, lay in ruins on the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Jess… why… why did you push me?" Everything happened too fast. Before Jessica could react, the others had already rushed over. Their father pulled Abby to her feet, his face contorted with worry as he took in her wounds. "Jessica! What do you think you're doing? Abby was kind enough to bring you some cake, and this is how you treat her? You ungrateful, heartless wretch!" Their mother didn't even pause to question. "You… You always do this! Don't you know Abby is weak? You should be taking care of her! Look at her—there's glass in her hands! She has asthma, too. The doctor said we have to keep her from getting upset, but you never learn!" Asthma? Jessica lowered her gaze. Nobody knew she only had a year left to live, but what did it matter now? Just then, Jack entered the scene, carrying the family's medicine box. He walked straight past Jessica, then lifted Abby and placed her gently on the couch—right in front of his fiancée. His eyes bore into Jessica, filled with disappointment. "Jessica," he said, "when I first met you, I never knew you were this petty. Apologize to Abby so we can be done with this and move on." Jessica said nothing. She lowered her head and swallowed the tears that threatened to rise. Only when she was sure her voice wouldn't shake did she finally reply, "I didn't push her. I don't apologize for things I didn't do." Her mother scoffed. "If you didn't push her, who did? Are you suggesting Abby threw herself into the table? You're useless, lazy, and now, a liar too?" She grabbed Jessica's wrist, her grip tight and punishing. "Apologize to Abby!" Jessica wrenched her hand free, thinking why should she apologize for something she didn't do. Abby let out a small, pitiful sob, her shoulders trembling as she gasped for air. Her breathing grew uneven. Their mother hurried to soothe her, patting her back, while Jack handed her a glass of water. And then, just as if she were truly drowning in guilt, Abby spoke. "It's my fault," she whimpered. "I shouldn't have shared my cake with Jess. I didn't mean to upset her… I'm sorry, Jess. Will you forgive me?" Then—without hesitation—she raised her hand and slapped herself across the face. Chapter 2 The more Abby put on her act, the more Jessica felt an overwhelming sense of disgust. Since childhood, Abby had mastered the art of appearing fragile, drawing sympathy from everyone around her. Every misfortune, every conflict, was inevitably laid at Jessica's feet. She was always portrayed as the villain—the heartless, unreasonable one who "apparently" bullied her weak older sister. But who was truly bullying whom? Who was the one in this house forced into insignificance? Who was the one constantly misunderstood and disregarded? In the past, she had endured it all in silence. But not this time. "That's right. Slap yourself harder. Make sure it stings," she said coldly. "After all, you were the one who smashed that cake onto your own face, only to turn around and pin the blame on me. With acting skills like yours, why not aim for an Oscar?" Slap— The sound rang clear in the air. A sharp pain exploded across her cheek. Jack had struck her. A metallic taste of blood filled her throat. She swallowed it down, standing still. She looked at Jack—her fiancé she had been together with since high school. For a long moment, she simply stared, her mind refusing to process what had just happened. He had hit her. But… Once upon a time, Jack had held her close and whispered, "Jess, whatever love you lacked in your family, I will make up for it." And now? He had raised his hand against her—for Abby. Behind him, Abby let out a soft, insincere murmur. "Jack, how could you hit Jess? She's my little sister." Their father's voice followed immediately after. "Jessica, open your eyes and see! Abby's still standing up for you despite everything. And what have you done to her?" Pain coiled through her insides, twisting, tearing. Her gaze swept over the faces around her—her father, her sister, her fiancé. It was always like this. Wherever Abby was, she was the sun, and everyone else merely revolved around her. But it didn't matter. Seven days. Seven more days, and everything would be over. She was leaving. Leaving this wretched place. Leaving these people. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another rush of nausea surged up her throat. She turned away swiftly, disappearing into her room before anyone could see. Behind her, Abby continued crying, repeating the same old lines. "It's all my fault." And the others? They did what they always did—blamed her. In the bathroom, Jessica splashed cold water on her face. Then, gripping the sink, she coughed violently. Blood spilled from her lips. It took several long moments before she felt steady enough to move. Reaching into her bag, she retrieved the last two pills she had left and swallowed them. Tomorrow. She had to go to the hospital tomorrow to get more medication. It had been two weeks since she had gone in for a check-up, two weeks since she had been told she had late-stage stomach cancer. A year, they had said. Give or take. At first, she had refused to believe it. But eventually, she had come to accept it. Death was inevitable for everyone. Hers was just arriving earlier than expected. She turned her attention to the suitcase lying open on her bed. November. Paris would be cold. Temperatures ranged between 8 to 15 degrees Celsius, with frequent rain. She packed thick sweaters, coats, and scarves. Summer clothes, too—just in case. By the time she finished, her suitcase was stuffed to the brim. Then, she opened her laptop and logged into the selling site, listing dozens of her design pieces for sale. Her parents had never loved her as they did her sister. That much was clear. But at the very least, they had brought her into this world and raised her. That counted for something, she supposed. 250 thousand dollars. That would be her final repayment for all their years of upbringing, despite the neglect. After everything was done, exhaustion swept over her. She was just about to sleep when her phone screen lit up. It was a new post from Abby. Nine photos—birthday cake, gifts, family, friends. A perfect tableau of happiness. The caption read: [Thank you, Daddy, Mommy, and Jack, for all your love. Happy 23rd to me. Forever your little princess.] Bitterness curled in her chest, but she forced it down. And then, her phone rang. It was a video call request from Abby. She hesitated, unwilling to answer. But then, a thought crossed her mind. She pressed record, switched on the microphone, and picked up. The moment the call connected, Abby's face filled the screen, smug and triumphant. "You saw my post, didn't you?" she sneered. "I posted it just for you. Jess, you never should have been born. You can never win against me. And now, even the fiancé you painstakingly found is siding with me. That slap must've hurt, huh?" Chapter 3 Jessica didn't respond. Instead, she saved the screen recording before hanging up the call. Before leaving, she wanted everyone to see what kind of person the "apparently" delicate and fragile Abby really was. And yet, her chest still ached as Abby's words echoed in her mind. "Jessica, you never should have been born. You can never win against me." That's true. Why had she even been born? She was supposed to be the cherished younger sister. But because their parents were afraid of hurting their eldest daughter, Abby, they gave all their love to Abby instead. They had said, "Be sensible. If it weren't for you, Abby would have had everything. Now she has to share some of it with you." But had anything ever really been shared with her? From childhood to now, Abby had pretty dresses and dolls—she had none. Abby was sent to various art and talent classes—she was not. Abby celebrated her birthday every year, with cake and presents—she did not, even though their birthdays were just one day apart. Ah, but no, that wasn't entirely true. She did have one birthday celebration. The year she met Jack. Back then, Jack gave her love, warmth, and everything she had been missing. For years, he remembered her birthday, giving her gifts without fail. He was always there for her, protecting her, telling her, "Jess, don't worry. The past is the past. I'll give you a future. A future beyond futures." That night, when his youthful lips brushed against hers, the sky was filled with countless stars. But now, that same Jack had slapped her across the face—without hesitation—for Abby. Jessica wiped away the tears she hadn't even realized had fallen. She found a small storage box and placed inside it everything Jack had ever given her. It was time to put an end to this. As for the wedding, she'd find a chance to call it off. She barely slept that night, and the next morning, she was up early. After washing up, she checked the selling site. Someone had already placed a bid. The buyer insisted on an in-person transaction to inspect the goods. They had arranged to meet today—at any time. Jessica finished freshening up and headed downstairs. Just as she stepped out of her room, she ran into Abby. Remembering the evidence she needed, she slipped a hand into her pocket and switched on the recording function on her phone. At this hour, only the two of them were home. Abby dropped all pretense. She strolled over, arms crossed arrogantly. There was no sign of the weak and delicate girl she pretended to be. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Jess, why did you hang up last night? Were you heartbroken? All I had to do was just put on a little show, and Mom, Dad, and Jack were wrapped around my finger. Oh, and I told Jack I wanted breakfast this morning. Guess what? He's bringing it for me. And he's your fiancé. You two are getting married in six days. How could he?" She let out a laugh, covering her mouth as if she had just shared a delightful joke. Jessica felt another faint, imperceptible pang in her heart. Once, Jack had only cared for her. But it didn't matter anymore. Still, she couldn't hold back. "You're right, he's taking care of you now, but in a few days, I'll be the one standing next to him as his bride. What does that make you? A mistress?" Abby kept smiling. "Jess, do you really believe that? If I want, I can make sure Jack never marries you. And as for being a mistress… Well, I'm just a fragile older sister who needs looking after. Who would ever call me a mistress?" Jessica opened her mouth to retort— But just then, the doorbell rang. She walked over and looked through the peephole. It was the framed artwork she had sent out for mounting. She had spent nearly three months designing this piece. It was this very work that had earned her the opportunity to study in Paris. Jessica signed for it and was about to carry it to her bedroom when Abby suddenly lunged forward. "Let me see," she sneered. "What kind of useless trash have you designed this time? You even got it framed?" Jessica didn't want her to touch it and tried to take it back. But in the struggle, the painting slipped— With a loud crash, the glass shattered against the floor. Shards scattered everywhere. Some lodged into the skin of Jessica's foot. Blood seeped out. She looked at the broken frame, her chest tightening. There were only a few days left before she had to send this piece to Paris. Now it was ruined. If she had to get it reframed, would she even make it in time? Abby, standing at a safe distance, was unscathed. She was just about to mock her when— The sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted her. In an instant, she changed her expression. "Jess, how could you?" she gasped, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to see your design! Why would you throw it at me?" Jessica was speechless. 'Here we go again.' And in the next second— Jack rushed in, holding a bag of breakfast. Without even stopping to assess the situation, he launched straight into accusations. "Jessica, you really are vicious!" His voice was sharp and cutting. "Abby just wanted to see your work. What's the big deal? How could you throw it at her?" Chapter 4 Jessica fell silent. She lowered her head, staring at the blood seeping from the back of her foot. Then, she glanced at Abby—unscathed and untouched. Biting her lip, she forced herself to stay firm. "Can't you see? My foot is bleeding." Only then did Jack notice the wound. His brows knitted slightly, and he stepped forward, intending to help her. But before he could, Abby's delicate voice, tinged with grievance, broke through the space between them. "Jack, it's my fault. I shouldn't have looked at Jess's things. I knew she wouldn't like it… Just like yesterday, with the cake. I shouldn't have given it to her." Her voice trembled, her shoulders shook, and in the next moment, she started convulsing, her breath becoming labored. "Asthma medication. Take it first!" Jack's mind snapped back to the immediate crisis. He didn't have time to think about anything else—he rushed to grab Abby's medicine. But it was too late. Abby, overcome with exaggerated distress, collapsed into his arms. He caught her just in time and swiftly scooped her up. "I'm taking you to the hospital." As they stepped out, they ran into Jessica's parents returning home. One look at the mess inside, and the conclusion was drawn instantly. "Abby's condition has worsened because of you! We won't forgive you for this!" With a loud bang, the door slammed shut. The living room was empty now, except for Jessica. She clenched her jaw and tended to her own wound. Then, she picked up the scattered artwork, smoothed out the edges, and called a courier to have it framed again. Once that was done, she left for the hospital for her own checkup. The waiting dragged on. By the time the results came out, two hours had passed. The doctor studied the report, sighed, and looked at her with an air of reluctant sympathy. "Your cancer cells are spreading. Medication alone won't be enough. You should consider hospitalization for chemotherapy. If you're lucky, you might have another year or two." "No," she said. "I don't want to spend my last days in a hospital." She took the test results, folded them neatly, and left the consultation room. She had always feared chemotherapy. The thought of losing all her hair, of looking sickly and wretched—it scared her. No, she wasn't going to do that. Even on the day she died, she wanted to look beautiful. As she stepped into the corridor, a voice caught her attention. "Dr. Langston, I've paid you enough, haven't I?" She paused mid-step. That voice was so familiar. Moving back a little, she peered into the respiratory department's office. There stood Abby. But she wasn't the frail, pitiful girl she always pretended to be. She was upright and poised. What is this? Without hesitation, Jessica pulled out her phone and hit record. Abby, oblivious, continued speaking to the doctor, her tone laced with condescension. "You have no right to threaten me. At most, I've been faking an illness. But you? You've taken quite a lot of money from me, not to mention all the bribes from other patients' families. If I report you, you can say goodbye to your career. I also know you're running for the deputy director position. One mistake and it's over for you." Jessica's fingers trembled around her phone and she nearly dropped it. So… Abby's asthma had been fake all along. She wasn't sick at all. She wanted to keep recording, to gather more evidence, but suddenly, a metallic taste of blood rose in her throat. She turned, hastily making her way to the restroom. Inside, she cupped cold water in her hands and splashed it over her face. Her reflection stared back at her—pale, hollow, exhausted. The frequency was increasing. The blood she coughed up was more than before. If it kept up like this, she wasn't sure if she'd even last a year. She gritted her teeth, swallowing down the nausea, then reached into her bag for her medication. Her body curled against the cold tile floor as she waited for the pain to subside with her eyes shut tightly. At that moment, Abby stepped into the restroom. She halted, her gaze flickering with something unreadable. Then, as if sensing something off, she casually reached for the medical report sticking out of Jessica's bag. She pulled it out, skimmed the contents, and then— Her pupils dilated. A slow, delighted smile curled on her lips. "Jess… you have late-stage stomach cancer?" Chapter 5 Jessica finally opened her eyes. Seeing that it was Abby, she reached out, snatched the medical report from Abby's hands, and stuffed it into her bag without a word. Then, without looking back, she walked away. Abby stood there, watching her retreating figure. After a few seconds of silence, she pulled out her phone and dialed Jack. "Jack, I really don't understand what Jess is thinking. She actually went to the doctor and got a fake medical certificate saying she has late-stage stomach cancer..." … Later, Jessica met with the buyer. The transaction went smoothly. She didn't feel like going home to cook, so she grabbed a bite outside before heading back. For the next few days, they were all at the hospital, "taking care" of Abby. Every day, Abby updated her social media, posting photos, writing captions filled with poetic melancholy. Occasionally, she would send private messages to Jessica, subtly flaunting her condition. And, of course, she added a few mocking remarks about Jessica's terminal illness. Jessica never replied. Instead, she took screenshots—one by one, carefully saving them. One day, all of this would come to light. She would make sure everyone saw Abby for what she truly was—the faker who had fooled them all. … In the blink of an eye, there were only two days left before her departure for Paris. Most of her preparations were complete. The 250 thousand dollars for her parents was nearly secured through her recent design transactions. She still needed to set aside another 125 thousand for herself—to cover expenses in Paris. It was Europe, after all. The cost of living was high, and she needed to be prepared for any unforeseen circumstances. As for the gifts Jack had given her over the years, she packed them all away, leaving nothing behind. Maybe she had grown cold. As she sorted through everything, she felt nothing—not anger, not sorrow. Just a quiet, detached calm. Like she was simply tidying up before moving house. … The next day, Abby and the others finally returned. She was carried into the bedroom by Jack, while their parents trailed behind, carrying the luggage. Jessica watched them enter, then called out to Jack, "When you're done, I need to talk to you." It was time to make things clear. There was no need for this wedding anymore. Jack glanced at her briefly. "Good. I have something to tell you too. I'll come find you later." Jessica sat on the couch, waiting. Ten minutes later, he emerged from the room. He looked at her for a moment. She seemed thinner. Worn out. But he didn't dwell on it. He got straight to the point. "I wanted to talk to you about our wedding." She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "Jess, this morning Abby made a request. She wants to be my bride on the wedding day." Jessica lifted her gaze. Expected, yet somehow still absurd. She didn't object outright. Instead, she asked, "And you? What do you think?" Jack hadn't anticipated her composure. He had expected anger, tears, or at least a sharp retort. But her calmness made him relax slightly, as if his choice had already been justified. "Abby isn't in good health. Let's just grant her wish. The wedding will proceed as planned the day after tomorrow, but the bride will be Abby instead." He continued, "Don't worry, it's just a fake marriage. The one I truly love has always been you. It's just… she kept begging me not to marry you. She wants to be my bride so badly. And she's your sister—how could I turn her away, right?" Hearing such a noble-sounding excuse, Jessica wasn't sure whether she should laugh. She thought back to everything that had led to this moment… Chapter 6 There was a time when she and Jack were deeply in love. He had held her close and whispered, "Jess, no matter what happens, I will marry you. You'll be the most beautiful bride in the world. "Jess, what kind of wedding would you like? I'll let you decide. "Jess, I'll take care of all the housework. And if you're afraid of the pain and don't want to have children, we don't have to. I don't want you to suffer." The warmth of those words still echoed in her ears. But now, all of that had collapsed into a single, cold sentence—"The wedding will proceed as planned the day after tomorrow, but the bride will be Abby instead." How absurd. It felt as though a massive truck had run over her body, crushing her bones, her lungs, her heart—grinding everything into dust. But after a fleeting moment of suffocating pain, she forced herself to smile. "Alright, I agree… The bride will be Abby. And on that day, I'll prepare a special gift for the both of you." Jack hadn't expected her to agree so easily. His face lit up with relief, but somewhere deep inside, an inexplicable unease took root. A vague feeling that something important was slipping away. But he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he praised her. "I knew you'd be the most understanding, Jess. I have to go now—there's still so much to prepare for the wedding." She watched him leave. Her grip on her phone tightened. She wanted to cry. But instead, she tilted her head back and swallowed the tears. Just then, Abby stepped out of the bedroom. Their parents weren't around, and with no one to witness, her face twisted into its usual arrogance. Jessica casually tapped the recording button on her phone. This "gift" needed more material, after all. "So? How do you feel?" Abby smirked. "I'll be the bride in two days. You know, I was only joking this morning when I told Jack that I wanted to be his bride. I just wanted to see how much he cared about me. But guess what? He actually agreed." She tossed her hair back, savoring the moment. "Of course, it's just a wedding. We won't even register the marriage. But if I wanted to… do you really think he'd refuse me if I asked him to make it official?" Jessica let out a quiet laugh. "Abby, how is it that you can be a mistress and still act so righteous about it?" "Mistress?" Abby scoffed. "You two aren't even legally married yet. No wedding, no certificate. And even if you were married, as your older sister, wouldn't it be natural for my dear brother-in-law to take care of me? After all, my health is so fragile." She paused dramatically, then covered her mouth in mock surprise. "Oh, wait. I'm not the one who's sick. You are—the one with terminal stomach cancer. You don't have much time left, do you? So why keep clinging to Jack? Just let him go." She took a step closer. "Actually, Jess, you never should have been born in the first place. Because of you, our family had to split everything—money, attention, affection. You were the extra one. The unnecessary one. Ever since you were born, I've wanted to strangle you." Each word dripped with venom. Sometimes, Jessica couldn't help but envy other little sisters. The ones who were cherished, spoiled by their families, and protected by their older siblings. She had wanted to be a princess too. A sharp, twisting pain spread through her stomach. She clutched it instinctively. "What's wrong? Gonna start coughing up blood now?" Abby sneered. "How pitiful. Maybe you should just kill yourself and get it over with." Jessica wanted to hold on, wanted to make it to the bathroom before anyone saw. But this time, she couldn't. The taste of blood filled her mouth, thick and overwhelming. Blood surged up her throat, seeping into her nose, her lungs, until she couldn't contain it anymore. It gushed out, spilling onto the floor. And just at that moment, their parents stepped out of their room. Jessica lifted her gaze to meet their stunned expressions. She smiled bitterly. So much for keeping it a secret. Chapter 7 As her parents walked toward her, Jessica took out the medical report and handed it to them. "I hadn't planned on telling you," she said. "But now that you've seen it, there's no point in hiding it. I have late-stage stomach cancer." Until this moment, she had believed—no, hoped—that she was still their daughter, that the news of her illness would stir some kind of sorrow in them. That was how it should be, wasn't it? A parent's heart aching for their child. But the next second, all of that shattered. A sharp, brutal kick landed squarely on her stomach, sending her staggering backward. She crashed against the corner of the table, pain shooting up her spine. She gasped, gripping the edge for support, her eyes widening in disbelief at her father. "You… you…" Before she could finish, her father slapped her. "Jessica! Have you become the kind of person who lies through her teeth?" he shouted. "If Abby hadn't warned us beforehand that you bought blood bags to fake your illness, we might have actually believed you! You're nothing but trouble!" Jessica took a slow, shaky breath. She pointed at the report, her fingers trembling. She wanted to stay calm, to speak logically, but the pain, the humiliation, and the utter disappointment all crashed over her at once. When she spoke again, her voice broke, raw with emotion. "You think I'm lying? You think a hospital report can be forged?" Her father sneered. "Of course it can. These days, anything can be faked." Something inside her went still. In that moment, she realized there was no point in arguing. They would never believe her. It was a waste of breath. So she let out a hollow chuckle. "You're right. I made it all up. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" Her mother cut her off. "Enough. Abby's wedding is the day after tomorrow. As her younger sister, you should be helping her, not causing unnecessary drama to steal attention. It's ridiculous." With a faint smile, she nodded. "Of course. I'll make sure to prepare everything well. And I'll have a very special gift ready for them." Back in her room, she opened her laptop and checked her sales orders. Another batch had just been purchased. It was enough—enough for a ticket to Paris. Then she reached out to the wedding emcee. She would need his cooperation. But as soon as he heard her request, his answer was swift. "No way. I'm not getting involved in something like this. My job is to host the wedding, not meddle in who the bride is." "What if I pay you seven thousand?" she asked. "That's more than you'd make hosting multiple weddings, isn't it?" A long silence followed. In the end, money won. "…Fine," the emcee sighed. "I'll do it." She sent him the files—every piece of evidence she had gathered. Photos, recordings, videos, everything. 'Abby, just wait. Your gift is on its way.' Chapter 8 The next day was the day before Jessica was set to leave for Paris. It was also the day before Jack and Abby's wedding. That evening, at Abby's request, the four of them gathered for a simple family dinner. The dishes were all her favorites—seafood and spicy food. Jessica couldn't eat any of it. Her illness had made it impossible, reducing her options to plain bread. But even if she weren't sick, she still wouldn't have been able to eat these dishes. Spicy food made her stomach ache. Seafood made her break out in hives. Yet no one seemed to remember that. All they remembered were Abby's preferences. Across the table, Abby clung to Jack's arm, smiling sweetly at him. Their parents sat side by side, looking on with beaming faces. And Jessica? She had called the waiter over to add an extra chair, turning a four-person table into a table for five. It was clear she didn't belong here. But it didn't matter. This was the last meal. After tonight, she would never see them again. Abby lifted her glass, her expression touched with what looked like guilt. "Jess, you don't blame me, do you?" she asked. "But I really, really love Jack. You're so outstanding—you'll definitely find someone even better. So… can you let me have him?" Jessica smiled. She raised her own glass, filled with nothing but plain water. "It's fine. You two are perfect for each other. Wishing you a happy marriage." Yes, perfect. A cheater and a faker— they were meant to be. Jack's grip on his wine glass tightened. Something about this didn't sit right with him. Why was she taking it so lightly? "Jess, you'll come to the wedding tomorrow, won't you?" Jessica's lips curled faintly. "Of course. It'll be a wedding to remember." Just then, her phone rang. It was Kelly. She picked up. "Hi, Kelly." "Jess, have you talked things through with Jack? We're leaving first thing in the morning." "Don't worry, Kelly. I'll be on time." She ended the call quickly, wary of letting the conversation drag on. Jack had caught a few words. His brow furrowed. "What did Kelly say? What's happening tomorrow?" Jessica waved him off casually. "Nothing, just something about a work contract." She no longer saw the need to explain anything to him. After all, what was he to her now? The others finished their meal in high spirits, chatting and laughing. Jessica ate in silence, each bite tasteless. That night, back home, she double-checked her luggage. Everything was in place. She went to bed early. The next morning, before the sun had risen, she was already up. She took a slip of paper, wrote two simple words—I'm leaving—and left it behind. Then she blocked Jack. Blocked Abby. Blocked every last one of them—on her phone, on Telegram, and on every possible means of contact. Dragging her suitcase behind her, she hailed a taxi to the airport, where she met up with the junior assistant assigned to this company trip. Goodbye. Goodbye forever. Chapter 9 No one noticed that Jessica had left. Everyone was too preoccupied with the wedding. Abby had always dreamed of a grand wedding, and Jack had accommodated her, replacing the original arrangements with an extravagant setup. A pricier makeup artist had been hired. Three sets of gowns had been prepared—one for the entrance, one for the ceremony, and one for the banquet. At eleven-thirty, the grand doors swung open. Abby stepped into the venue, draped in a flowing white wedding dress. The melody of the wedding march played softly in the background. On the giant screen, images of her and Jack flickered to life. Since she had taken over as the bride at the last minute, there hadn't been time for a proper wedding photoshoot. Instead, hastily gathered candid shots played in a slideshow. The hall was filled with guests, yet an odd atmosphere lingered. Faces twisted in curiosity and hushed whispers spread through the crowd. "A wedding where the bride changes at the last minute? Never heard of that before." "Who cares? We're just here for the food. Whether it's the older or younger sister doesn't matter." "Still, stealing her sister's fiancé—it's shameless, no matter how you spin it." The murmurs reached Abby's ears. She remained unbothered, her expression unchanging, her gaze fixed on Jack, who stood impeccably dressed across from her. It didn't matter what they said. What mattered was that she had become Jack's bride. Words wouldn't hurt her. They wouldn't take away what she had gained. The wedding proceeded. The master of ceremonies spoke with eloquence, weaving together a narrative—a love story of patience and destiny. He spun a tale of devotion, transforming the truth of a stolen engagement into a grand romance, a love that had been fated all along. Some young girls in the audience even wiped away tears. Then, the emcee glanced at Abby. He hesitated briefly before resuming his script. At that moment, the slideshow on the screen changed. The photos of the happy couple vanished, replaced by something else. Evidence provided by Jessica. A voice echoed through the venue, "Jess, you never should have been born. You can never win against me." "Oh, wait. I'm not the one who's sick. You are—the one with terminal stomach cancer. You don't have much time left, do you?" "You have no right to threaten me. At most, I've been faking an illness. But you? You've taken quite a lot of money from me, not to mention all the bribes from other patients' families. If I report you, you can say goodbye to your career." Audio files. Video clips. Screenshots of conversations. One by one, the pieces of evidence exposed the truth, each more damning than the last. Abby hadn't seen this coming. She clutched her ears, screaming, "Lies! It's all fake! Jess set me up! She's doing this because I took her fiancé—she's taking revenge!" She scanned the crowd, searching for Jessica. But Jessica was nowhere to be found. "She's hiding! She's guilty, that's why she's not here!" Abby shrieked. Jack felt an unfamiliar weight settle in his chest. A deep irritation. And yet, he couldn't ignore the unease creeping in. He had always known that Jessica wasn't the type to pull reckless stunts. She was methodical, precise. He needed to hear the truth from her himself. He dialed her number. "The number you've called is no longer in service." He sent her a message. A red exclamation mark appeared. He had been blocked. He thought back to the phone call from Kelly during last night's dinner. An unsettling feeling took root. Abby's parents were also trying to reach Jessica. But her phone remained off. They, too, had been blocked. Watching their concern, a bitter taste rose in Abby's throat. Yet she quickly masked her resentment with a pitiful smile. "Mom, Dad, Jack, please don't be mad at her. She didn't mean to ruin my wedding. It's my fault. I took what was supposed to be hers." But this time, her parents didn't rush to comfort her. Their eyes held doubt. For the first time, they hesitated. For the first time, they wondered if they had ever truly known their eldest daughter. Jack had no patience for this farce any longer. He turned on his heel, ready to leave. Abby seized his wrist. "Not yet! At least exchange the rings first! I know you're going to look for Jessica, but this wedding—this wedding must be completed!" Jack shook her off and walked away without a word. "Dad, Mom! Look at him! This is my wedding!" Abby cried. But her parents didn't stay, either. Without another glance at her, they followed Jack out. Something was wrong. They could feel it. And so, Abby was left standing there, alone, beneath the weight of a hundred judgmental stares. The whispers around her grew louder. She could feel their scorn pressing against her skin. Anger swelled within her. She tore off her tiara, ripped away her veil, and stormed out. The wedding ended as nothing more than a public spectacle. … Back at Abby and Jessica's home, Jack stormed into Jessica's room. A single note lay on the desk. There were two words, written in her familiar handwriting: I'm leaving. Beneath the note, there were a few items. A bank card and a storage box. Inside the box was every gift he had ever given her. What was she trying to say? He immediately called Kelly. "Where's Jessica? Is she at work today?" Kelly sounded confused. "She didn't tell you? She was assigned to Paris for further training. She left this morning." A notification popped up on his phone. Kelly had sent him a photo. It was a group picture. Jessica stood among her colleagues, smiling. The caption at the bottom read: [Congratulations to Jessica Conway and Nick Camdon for being selected for an internship at our Paris headquarters! A victorious return from the Global Fashion Design Competition!]