Chapter 4

Reagan's first love, Britney Meyer, had returned to the country. Years ago, when she suddenly broke up with him and left abroad, Reagan had recklessly agreed to a street race with his friends. It was something he had never been good at, and it ended with him blind for three long years. Others might not have known, but Paige did. Reagan had never let Britney go. When fever left him delirious and muttering in his sleep, the name on his lips had always been hers way too many times. So, after Britney's welcome banquet, when he called Paige to pick him up, she deliberately marked her own neck with hickeys before setting out. The moment she stepped out of the car, she saw him outside the Meyer residence, pinning Britney against the wall. He brushed his fingers over her earlobe, and under his teasing touch, her cheeks bloomed with a faint blush. Just as Britney tilted her head back, her eyes about to close, Paige stepped in at the worst possible moment. She slid an arm around the slightly tipsy Reagan and murmured gently, "It's time to go home." Reagan turned, giving Paige a long, meaningful glance. Then, almost submissively, he rested his chin on her head, the gesture carrying a subtle, teasing intimacy. "You're finally here." Paige ignored the fury blazing in Britney's eyes. She offered her a nod. Then, she lifted her hair and swept it over one shoulder. The pale curve of her neck revealed a blatant, intimate mark. Britney's pupils shrank. For a split second, the scene that the mark hinted at flashed vividly in her mind. Her fury ignited. Her teeth clenched as her eyes burned into Paige's retreating figure. Britney finally snapped as Reagan and Paige disappeared into the car, which lurched violently. A raw scream tore from her throat. Inside the car, Reagan's slap sent Paige crashing into the door with such force that the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth. "Paige, your cleverness only makes me look like an idiot," he hissed. Reagan ignored the blood at the corner of her mouth. Lounging on the leather couch, he stared at the mark on Paige's neck, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Britney is extremely petty, so you'd better be careful. I won't save you when the time comes." Paige swallowed the blood, lifted her chin, and met his gaze. "I'm willing to be your wingman and help you win back Britney as quickly as possible. In return, can you let my dad and me go?" Reagan let out a derisive laugh, his gaze on her dripping with condescension, as if she were utterly clueless. "Paige, you know too many of my secrets. How could I ever let you go? Don't you worry, though. If I ever marry, I'll see to it that you and that useless dad of yours are taken care of." A moment later, his phone rang. Seeing the name flashing on the screen, he raised his brows slightly and answered lazily. "Got it." He ordered the driver to stop and shoved Paige out, after which the car spun around and disappeared into the night. Paige walked home bathed in moonlight, her thoughts drifting back to Reagan ten years ago. At that time, he had been the school's shining star—handsome, brilliant, well-born, and kind-hearted, with a sunny disposition. Not a single girl could resist him, yet the only one he had ever favored was Paige, his little sidekick. However, that once-vivid image of a pure, youthful Reagan wavered and dissolved in her memory, leaving Paige with a frown. When did Reagan begin to change? It must have been the moment everyone discovered that Quinn had clawed her way into the Lancaster family as the mistress. In other words, he was technically an illegitimate child. The scandal shattered Reagan. For years, he recoiled from every hand extended in kindness. And by the time he managed to stitch himself back together, he was no longer the same person. He had become what he was now—violent, darkly brooding, cynical, drifting through life as if it were nothing more than a game. Eventually, he fell in love with Britney, completely abandoning Paige, the girl he had once cherished. Paige walked back alone. Just as she reached the Lancaster residence's gates, she spotted Emmanuel's car pulling out. She rushed forward to stop him. "Dad, your leg hasn't been well these past few days. Where's Mr. Carson? Let me pick him up instead." Emmanuel smiled faintly. "Don't worry. I'll drive slowly. The other drivers are tied up, and I happened to be free." She opened her mouth to protest, but he waved her off. "I'll be back soon. Head inside quickly." Paige stared after the car as it slowly disappeared, a persistent unease tightening in her chest. … A nightmare jolted her awake later that night. Instinctively, she got out of bed and headed to Emmanuel's room, only to find it empty. By then, it had been four hours since he left to pick up Carson. Growing increasingly anxious, she called Emmanuel repeatedly, and it wasn't until the third attempt that someone finally answered. Before she could speak, a stranger's voice came through. "Are you the patient's family? He's been in a severe car accident and is undergoing emergency treatment at First People's Hospital—"