Chapter 3

After watching the two of them enter a cake shop, Trisha got up and left. She headed to the mall to do some shopping. She had just set her sights on a dress and was about to swipe her card when a familiar voice sounded behind her. "I want that dress. Wrap it up for me." Trisha turned around and found herself face-to-face with Anna, who was gazing at her tauntingly. She had always known Anna was no pushover, so she replied coolly, "I saw this dress first. Besides, it's quite expensive, so why don't you pick something else?" The sales assistant, sizing up Anna's outfit, caught on quickly and added, "I'm sorry, ma'am. But the clothing here may be a bit beyond your price range. If you're interested, there's a department store downstairs you might want to check out." In an instant, all eyes in the store turned their way. Anna's face flushed crimson with embarrassment, and her eyes burned with fury. "Are you looking down on me? Well, I like this dress only, and I'm paying for it now!" As she spoke, she pulled out the Black Card Cyril had given her and flung it at the sales assistant. Trisha glanced at the card, then at the stunned onlookers, before calmly handing over her own card. Caught between a wealthy new customer and the original buyer, the sales assistant stood frozen in an awkward state of indecision. Just when she was at a complete loss, Cyril's voice cut through the air. "What's going on?" Anna rushed to him pitifully, playing the victim first. "Cyril, today's my birthday, and I just wanted to buy myself a dress as a gift. But Ms. Newton happened to pick the same one. I tried to pay first, but she wouldn't let me and even said I couldn't afford it." Cyril's expression turned icy. He glanced at the dress and said flatly, "Trisha, you have plenty of clothes at home. There's no need to fight over this one with Anna. Besides, it suits her better." Then, he turned to Anna and said, "One dress isn't enough. Pick out a few more—I'll pay for it all." Upon hearing this, Anna beamed happily, basking in her triumph. She no longer fixated on the first dress and instead grabbed dozens of other styles. The store erupted in envious murmurs. "Wow, talk about spoiling someone rotten. When will I ever meet a man like that?" "Look at that other woman—she's been browsing for ages without buying anything. Are those designer clothes even real? She's probably just pretending to be a socialite!" Trisha heard it all, but she didn't bother to defend herself. She turned to push open the door and leave, just as the mall's alarm suddenly blared. A panicked crowd surged down from the upper floors, screaming about a fire and scattering in all directions. The store descended into chaos. Trisha was knocked to the ground in the stampede. Foot after foot trampled over her, leaving dark bruises and torn skin in their wake. Tears of pain streamed down her face as she tried to shield her head. When she looked up, she saw Cyril holding Anna tightly, shielding her as they pushed toward a safer area. Driven by survival instinct, Trisha screamed his name over and over again at the top of her lungs. He turned at the sound, his pupils contracting when he saw her battered and trampled on the floor. Just as he seemed about to rush toward her, Anna yanked him back. Whatever she said made him hesitate. Then, he turned away and continued shielding Anna as they left together. Trisha could only helplessly watch as they vanished into the crowd, the last shred of hope in her heart sinking into oblivion. In the tight, suffocating space, even the air felt toxic. Trampled and bleeding, she could only grit her teeth against the pain and drag herself slowly toward the corner. She then braced her bloodied hands against the wall for support and finally managed to stand. The surging crowd shoved her relentlessly toward the mall's exit, draining the last of her strength. Only after being pushed out onto the plaza and confirmed to be safe did her legs give out. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air in ragged gulps. Not far off, a familiar, urgent voice pierced through the noise. "Anna, wait here. Don't wander off. I'm going back in." After settling Anna, Cyril turned, only to see the battered and bruised Trisha lying on the ground. Their eyes met again. But this time, there was no emotion left in hers—only the still, lifeless calm of someone who had stopped expecting anything at all.